Kind of wanting to rewrite my Mummy AU, but as a canon divergence from the Originals web series. Kol wouldn’t get daggered and would instead disappear to travel the world, oblivious to his siblings plight when Mikael comes to town. He’d join the French foreign legion for a laugh and be the one in Hamunaptra (likely leading the expedition 😝). After the opening fight he’d move on and explore Egypt some more eventually getting himself tossed in jail, only oops… the jailer is one of the five and he’s got some enchanted cuffs that are keeping Kol from escaping. Cue Elena and Jeremy on the scene after Jeremy picked the Original’s pocket. He sees a potential opportunity to escape without suffering the curse that got Klaus for 52 years.
The story would play out from there with Kol agreeing to take them both out to Hamunaptra, partly because he’s bored and partly because the Gilbert siblings amuse him. He wants to get to know this new doppelgänger before he uses her to buy Nik’s loyalty and an eternity without a dagger hanging over his head.
This naturally doesn’t happen because they fall for each other hard and Kol ends up turning Elena. A fact he will vehemently deny when they meet his siblings decades later because if Klaus finds out he had a human doppelgänger and turned her there’ll be hell to pay.
…
One day 😌
Damon and Stefan would be part of the American group (a brotherly bonding experience to bring them closer together that backfires horribly when they start fighting over ‘Katherine’ who is so obviously pretending to be human for an unknown reason)
I’ve recently hit a Gilmore Girls nostalgia stage and am looking for a Fic I read years ago. I don’t remember the title or author. All I remember is that Rory was alone and had just had a baby and she went to stay with Jess rather than going home to her family. Can’t remember the circumstances. It was eventually a RoryxJess Fic.
Does anyone know the name of the story or the author?
There was a wall around the switch, a wall that kept losing tiny bits with every little act. If it falls she’s certain she won’t survive, but somethings have a way of crumbling between her fingers. Intended as a trailer for Bricks and Mortar Video clips from The Vampire Diaries Season 3 and 4. Episodes: Dangerous Liaisons, American Gothic, The Originals, and She’s Come Undone. Music: Game of Survival, Ruelle “Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for ‘fair use’ for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, education or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.”
In the two hours since Dorian left the old witch house the dryad had not moved an inch from her perch in the rocking chair. If he didn’t know any better he would have said she was rooted in place; just another piece of the room. Only the occasional blink of her eyes betrayed her as a living, breathing being.
He opened the curtains, bathing the dryad’s circle in palest blue.
She startled, focusing curious eyes on him.
“What spell gave you utilized to find my Oliver?”
“It’s a new spell called Google,” Alaric turned from the window, silently blaming his sarcasm on the teenagers he spent his days surrounded by; luckily Bonnie had a dozen spells at her fingertips and an Original with hundred’s more at her side.
“You’re mocking me,” she frowned.
For a moment so brief he thought he imagined it her eyes glowed a pale green; lit from within by a power greater men once wept at.
“Yeah,” he chuckled, nodding, “but just a little bit.”
Something about her eyes niggled at the back of his mind; he had seen that glow somewhere before, lacking something — perhaps her penchant for offence and fear.
“Will you open the window?” Her mesmerizing eyes slid shut. “I would like to feel the breeze.”
His stomach twisted, eyes darting to the glass. “Until I know the full extent of your powers, I’d rather not.”
She sighed, tired of his veiled accusations and heavy suspicion.
“You need not fear that I will deceive you. Unlike humans,” she sneered, “dryads do not lie, and we choose not to harm.”
He sank into Dorian’s abandoned armchair and tilted his head.
“Is it that you can’t lie, or that you choose not to?” He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“We cannot lie,” her eyes narrowed, “but we can choose not to answer. You have a question to ask of me?”
“I do,” he nodded; bright blue eyes flashed in his mind.
“I’ve given my terms.”
“This had nothing to do with the knife,” he held her gaze. “I swear it.”
She considered him for a moment before lifting her chin. “Ask what you will Alaric. I shall answer, or I shall not.”
“A few moments ago your eyes glowed green. Why?”
“I allowed my annoyance to show,” she looked to the window and the shadows of waving branches. “What you saw was a deep seated connection to nature.”
“I see,” he nodded, and briefly considered calling to run his thought process by her but shook the idea away. He had to ask now while the dryad was in a generous mood. “What if someone’s eyes… what if they glowed blue?”
Her neck snapped up with a creak.
“You know what that means?” He read the confirmation in her eyes. “Will you tell me?”
“I… see no reason why I should.” She shifted, causing the chair to sway. “Why should I tell you this?”
He folded his hands together and stared a beat at the circle holding her in place.
“There is a young mother, my… step-daughter, who has no idea what her child is.” He looked up in time to see her shift forward, interest piqued.
“You do not speak of an adult?” Her fingers curled around the chair arms.
“She’s a baby,” he shook his head, “only six months old.”
“With a mother who does not remember the father?” Her upper lip curled. She shook her head in disgust.
He swallowed, straightening up. “How do you know that?”
“It… it is their way,” she tilted her head, considering him for a long moment. At length she gave a sharp nod. “I would see this grandchild of yours, Alaric, and speak to the mother.”
++++
“I think I have to admit defeat,” she sighed, taking another toe pinching step up a concrete stair. “I wore the wrong shoes for this.”
“Shall I carry you?” He teased, pausing on the step below her.
“No,” she flashed an impish smile, “I just need to take them off.” She stepped out of one shoe and then the other, wincing when her sore feet flattened on the cool concrete. After a second the cold took over, soothing her aching arches.
She picked up the black satin pumps, hooking the toes on her fingers.
“Can you do me a favour?” She turned to face him and found the higher step put her at eye level.
“There is nothing I would not do for you, Elena,” he tucked a windblown lock of hair behind her ear. “What would you ask of me?”
“Nothing major,” she reached up, holding the back of his hand and absently twisting his daylight ring. With her free hand she waved her shoes. “Just that the next time you see me eyeing a cute pair of high heels remind me I haven’t worn them long term since before I was pregnant.”
“At which point you’ll choose something else?” He arched an eyebrow.
“Of course not,” she smirked, “I’ll insist I can handle it, and while I’m squeezing my feet into a pair of shoes I probably should have given Caroline over a year ago you sneak a pair of flats into the trunk.”
“Is that all?” He traced her jaw with his thumb, enjoying the warmth of her skin.
“Make sure they match whatever outfit I’m wearing,” she attempted a stern expression, but couldn’t quite manage it.
“Of course,” he nodded. “And will that keep you from being barefoot on National Monuments?”
“In the future, yes,” she nodded, “but these stairs are being taken barefoot,” she wiggled her toes. “Who thought forty concrete steps was a good way to greet foreign dignitaries?”
“I’m not sure, but the Sunset Symphonies were beautiful,” a jet flew overhead and he sighed, “before noise pollution forced them to cancel.”
“There was music here?” She looked to the left, examining the stretch of steps.
“From 1935 to 1965,” he turned enough to gesture to the water. “An orchestra played from a barge and the audience sat here: listening to music beneath the stars.”
“What was that like?” She tilted her head.
“I attended the first. They couldn’t have asked for a more perfect night,” he tilted his head, lost in a memory. “The sunset sparkled on the water, rippling in a cool breeze that reached the top of the hill. There must have been 10,000 people between the Lincoln Memorial and the bridge, and hundreds more were on the water in canoes awaiting the National Symphony Orchestra. You could hardly see the grass for all the people, and the crowds grew larger every year.”
“I wish I could have seen that,” she sighed, fiddling with her shoes.
“The NSO is still performing at the John F. Kennedy Centre.”
“That’s not the same though, is it?” She shook her head. “There would have been people from everywhere who wouldn’t normally have access to it. Tickets now would be hundreds of dollars which only certain people can afford, and they’re usually the stuffy type.”
“Are you calling me stuffy?” He slid his hands around her waist.
“Maybe a little bit,” she teased, draping her arms over his shoulders.
“I resent that,” he tilted his head. His left hand slid down and pinched her behind; she squeaked and pressed into his chest.
“Elijah Mikaelson,” she scolded, breathless. A few people glanced their way, but his hands had shifted respectfully to her hips where she fit perfectly.
“New Orleans has many open air concerts, and of those the majority are child friendly…” he trailed off when he caught her expression. “What?”
She took a deep breath that brushed his chest.
“I love you.”
Pressed as close as she was she felt his heart beat a little faster as a slow smile lifted the corners of his mouth.
The Watergate steps faded around them until all he saw were her bright eyes.
“I love you, Elena Gilbert, and I have for longer than I should have considering our situation.” He listened to her racing heart.
“How long?” She licked her bottom lip. “You’re not gonna say Willoughby are you?”
He chuckled and pressed a featherlight kiss to her mouth, murmuring ‘before’. It began when she was human. He didn’t know exactly the moment it happened, only that he was in deep when he signed the letter, but he had kept his heart caged to avoid further complicating her life; the last thing she had needed was another vampire professing his undying love.
“That’s a long time to know something like that,” she whispered.
“Well, large portions of that time were spent in a Chambre de Chas, dead and then without memory,” he pulled back to look into her eyes.
“If I’m going to stick around for eternity then you’re not allowed to die again.”
“I’ll do my best,” he swore. “I never thought I’d have the opportunity to have you forever.”
“Is that how long you want me?” Her eyes flickered, searching his gaze.
“Always and Forever seems like just enough time,” he drew circles into her waist, “and somehow not quite long enough.”
“Always and Forever, huh?” She felt her stomach flutter. “I like the sound of that.”
She made it halfway to his smiling lips when her cell phone rang in her pocket; somebody had an excellent sense of timing. She pulled away with a sigh to answer in case it was Hope, and frowned at the caller ID.
She pressed the phone to her ear.
“Ric?”
++++
“Elena,” Alaric kept his eyes on the dryad as he spoke, “I’m sorry. I would have waited until morning, but I knew you’d want to hear this now.”
She leaned a little closer, gaze transfixed on his cell phone as if she could hear the skepticism in Elena’s tone; for all he knew she could.
“What could be so important I’d want to know it right now?”
“I’ve met someone who might know something about Serena, but she’ll only talk to you.”
“She?”
“What magic is this that allows you to converse with one so far away?” She blinked, curious.
“It’s not magic. It’s a phone; most people have one these days.” He held the receiver away from his mouth.
“Is that her? Put me on speaker please, Ric. I don’t have superhuman hearing.”
He complied and held the phone towards the barrier spell.
“You’re on with a dryad.”
“Does the dryad have a name?” Elena sighed.
“Not that she’s said.”
“You never asked,” she scoffed.
“Well, you did say you’d give us no answers until we found your Oliver,” he winced, shame crept up his neck. “I figured your name was one of those answers.”
“If you had bothered to ask, as your clearly more cultured step-daughter, you would have received an answer. My name is Willow. How is it you come to be in this phone?” She tasted the modern word on her tongue.
“I’m not in the phone Willow,” she laughed softly. “It’s just transmitting my voice, but I can’t even begin to explain how that works. What do you know about my baby?”
“I must see the child to be certain,” Willow watched the phone.
“Will a picture do? It’s passed her bed time.”
“And you do not trust me with your child,” she glanced up.
“No offence Willow; I just don’t know you.”
“You are a mother, Elena. I understand your hesitance.” Willow sat straight. “How did you get her to react long enough for an artist to paint?”
“Paint?”
Alaric could practically see the confusion on her face.
“They’re pictures; they were taken instantly… or as close to instantly as anything can be.”
“Fascinating… if they were in the moment they may suffice. Can you bring them?”
“We’ll be there within the hour.”
Willow startled at the sound of Elijah’s voice but made no comment as Elena spoke again, confirming their imminent arrival, before hanging up.
He put his phone away and rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting from Willow to the window.
“You are anxious,” she tilted her head, red hair spilling over her shoulder.
“You’re honest, I believe that, but sometimes, in this world, telling the truth can do more harm than good.” He glanced to the doorway and swallowed. “Elena’s been through a lot, and she’s stronger than many in the past have given her credit for, but she’s human, and flawed and there’s only so much a person can take before it becomes too much.”
She leaned back, squaring her shoulders and crossing her legs.
“Ask your question, Alaric.”
“Will this hurt her?”
She remained silent for a long moment, thinking, until the quiet grew too great and he shifted in his chair.
“It might, and it might not.” She met his stare. “I cannot lie to her, and though you may try to protect her you cannot. No father may shield his child from everything; try as you might.”
“I’m not her dad,” he shook his head, “I didn’t even know she existed until she was seventeen.”
“Yet you act as her father, and likely grandfather to the babe. You love them both.” She tilted her head, sensing the emotion he kept inside. “Family is far more than blood Alaric.”
“You’re right,” he nodded. He hadn’t realized his feelings toward Elena were what they were until his twins were born. Sometimes he thought she looked at him as a father, but the subject remained untouched; she’d had a family, a mom and dad she’d loved so much, and he suspected acknowledging what was between them might feel a bit like a betrayal of the Gilberts, as though she were insulting their memory.
“So,” he cleared his throat, changing the subject before things got sappy. “Who’s this Oliver that Dorian went to find?”
Instant change overtook her face, softening her expression with the memories of days long gone.
“Oliver never lied.” Her nails tapped the edge of her chair’s arm. “He was not like the other men who would come into the forest to chop down trees so that their houses could be bigger than other houses. He played music,” she smiled, wistful. “He would lean against the trees and feel happiness. We fell in love,” her voice strained towards the end.
Concern flashed in his eyes.
“You should know… he might not be around anymore. It’s been… a while since those days you remember.”
“Oliver made a great sacrifice,” she lifted her chin. “He became a vampire so we might be together forever. We decided to meet at the clearing where we fell in love so we could run away, but… circumstance got in the way.”
He nodded, sighing at the ground. When he looked up it was to sympathetic eyes.
“I feel your pain. You have lost a great love.”
His breath caught. He added empathy to her known abilities.
“A psychic tree?” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Check.”
“Is your humour helpful in avoiding your pain?” She cocked an eyebrow.
“Not really,” he exhaled slowly, “no.” He felt her critical eye as he stared at the floor.
“You carry more than one loss.”
Their faces flashed in his mind. He saw Isobel’s smile, heard Jenna’s laugh and felt Jo’s warmth beneath his fingers.
“Several,” he blinked: Isobel’s disappearance, Jenna’s funeral… Jo’s blood.
He swallowed, speaking around the lump in his throat. “Including Elena’s mother, and the mother of my twins.”
He paused for a moment, and when he spoke it was in a thick voice.
“There’s some happiness there too.” He saw Isobel’s determination and Jenna’s temper in Elena, Jo in the twins. “I can still see her sometimes when they smile and laugh.”
Willow smiled, and they sat together in silence for a long moment until Dorian returned, interrupting the burgeoning connection.
“Good news and bad news,” he paused at the door, looking between them. “Bonnie did some sort of combo spell Kol provided, summoning and astral projection, but…” he trailed off and stepped out of the way, making a path for a seemingly young man with blonde hair above a confused face.
“Can someone please tell me what’s going on here?”
Willow beamed, excitement seeping from her in a wave. “Oliver?”
She got to her feet and moved as close as the boundary spell would allow. Her smile failed when he regarded her with nothing but confusion.
“I’m sorry,” he sounded genuinely so, “but do I know you?”
Alaric could only imagine the pain in her heart. His eyes shifted to Dorian as Kol entered the house with the ring on a looped thread.
“I’m guessing that’s the bad news.”
++++
Elijah parked the Bentley beside a dark SUV bearing the school logo, illuminating Kol in the headlights where he leaned against a vine covered pillar; the quick flash of silver in his hands resembled the mystery dagger that had caused so much trouble.
Before either of them could open their doors, or utter a single word, a stranger left the house. Elena couldn’t hear him, but something about Kol’s expression caused a seed of sadness to take root in her breast.
“Elijah?” She breathed, reaching for his hand on the gear shift.
“I don’t know him,” he held her fingers, “he wants to leave.”
He twisted, looking in their direction. She thought she saw a flicker of recognition when the stranger met her eyes. She didn’t have to hear to make out the name on his lips.
Elijah stiffened beside her and Kol gave a sharp shake of his head.
If he had looked at her with any emotion beyond curiosity her heart might have dropped as it had so many times when her identity was in question, but the stranger didn’t look at her like a jilted lover or a sworn enemy. At most he had met her ancestor in passing; maybe he had heard of Katherine’s demise and suddenly thought he heard wrong.
Kol must have corrected him because the man nodded and then disappeared, leaving behind an Original with a broken string.
“Bonnie’s doing,” she exhaled. A name floated on the edge of her mind; she grasped for it while opening the door. “How much do you want to bet that was Oliver?”
“I think the odds are good.”
Elena glanced down at the ground where dozens of broken twigs and sharp pebbles beckoned with threats of sliced soles. Reluctantly, she worked her swollen feet back into her shoes and winced when she stood and her toes pinched.
“What are you two doing here?” Kol twirled the dagger around his fingers.
The cold bite he directed towards her had melted months ago after an awkward apology during goblin research. They weren’t besties and would probably never braid each other’s hair, but it was nice going into eternity without hatred.
Then again, he remained unaware of her impending forever. Maybe he’d pick up a vendetta when he found out.
“Willow has information on Serena,” Elijah placed a hand on the small of Elena’s back.
“Willow?” His brows lowered.
“The dryad,” Elena drew her jacket closed, keeping out the cool spring breeze. “Her name is Willow. You didn’t know?”
“I didn’t stick around for introductions,” Kol shook his head. “I didn’t want to add discomfort to her upset; Willow is unlikely to be forthcoming.”
He glanced toward the cottage as Alaric stepped outside with Dorian, affording the dryad a moment alone.
“The heartbroken so rarely are,” he sighed.
Elena spotted moisture glistening in the corner of Alaric’s eyes, caught in a beam of moonlight; Dorian appeared upset, but otherwise unaffected.
She felt the folded page crinkle in her pocket as she took half a step towards them. She took another and drew in a shaking breath; they made a space for her to walk between, but she paused to watch them.
“We think we’ve figured out why nobody remembers these creatures.”
Elena arched an eyebrow at Dorian’s choice of terminology; almost everyone in the loop chose ‘creatures’ or ‘beings’, but Dorian had been using ‘monster’ since the beginning.
“Whatever happened to them erased all memory of them,” Alaric swallowed, “it’s like they never existed.”
“How do you know that?” She shifted on her feet, feeling the dread pluck at her neck.
“Oliver was her lover, they were going to run away together before whatever happened, happened, and he has no idea who she is,” his eyes flickered to the door. “She wasn’t talking after he left; I don’t know if she will anymore.”
She pushed between them, pausing only when they called her name to say ‘nobody should go through heartbreak alone’.
And she loved that Elijah understood without words that she wanted to go in alone.
Damon would have flat out refused to let her approach a potentially hostile supernatural.
Stefan would have taken convincing.
Matt would have followed for backup.
He provided the support from outside, either speaking to his faith in her or himself; knowing Elijah it was probably both.
She shut the door behind her and followed the rustle of leaves to a circular boundary.
“Willow?” She dropped her hands to her sides.
Slim shoulders shook beneath a shimmering cape.
“Are you okay?” She received no reply; Willow didn’t even acknowledge her presence, staring instead through the grime covered window.
She considered the barrier a beat before taking a deep breath and condemning herself to the circular prison until someone let them out.
She stepped over the line of herbs and placed one hand on her shoulder, rough like tree bark beneath the silk cloak.
“Willow?” A twig dislodged from her hair.
She looked up, catching Elena in overly large eyes.
“I heard what happened,” she swallowed, squeezing comfortingly. “I’m sorry.”
She stayed silent for a long moment, studying Elena’s features.
“You really are, aren’t you?” She murmured. “You’re Elena. You came for answers, not to commiserate over my lost love.”
“I can commiserate,” she smiled, shrugging. “Do you need anything?”
Willow appeared sickeningly green, and her breathing sounded short, but for all Elena knew that was perfectly normal amongst dryads.
With a short wave of her hand Elena opened the window. A cool breeze stirred their hair and Willow’s large eyes closed, revelling in the fresh air.
“I’ve never been in your situation exactly, but I am sorry.”
“Thank you, Elena.” She opened her eyes. “There is something you can do for me.”
“Of course,” she nodded.
“In this moment I would choose not to dwell,” she stood at eye level. “Show me the picture of the child.”
Elena passed her the folded sheet with the snapped photos of Serena’s fingers, toes and eyes at three weeks old.
“They were taken months ago,” she twisted her coat between her fingers and pressed her lips together. “She’s a lot bigger now, and her hair came in red, of all colours. Apparently my grandmother had red hair.”
“She is healthy?” Willow touched the glowing eye.
“It was touch and go for a while, but now she’s great.”
“That’s remarkable,” Willow breathed.
“Why? Do you know what she is?” She could see the look of concentration on Elijah’s face as he listened in outside the house.
“I do,” she lifted her gaze, “as I know all other children like her — the ones who weren’t stolen from their cradles — died within weeks of birth. How have you kept her healthy?”
Her stomach dropped as her mind replayed the words with an accompaniment of angry red skin and terror filled screams.
“Two baths a day,” she forced out the words around the lump in her throat.
“She will need more as she grows and becomes more active,” Willow nodded, staring at the pictures.
“What is she?” A large part of her never wanted to know what transpired in Brazil, but another recognized her need to understand everything about her baby girl in order to keep her safe and healthy.
“She is a naiad.”
“Bloody hell!”
Elena’s eyes darted to the open window when Kol swore loud enough for her to hear.
“She is also whatever you are,” Willow added. “I sense you’re not entirely human.”
“Gypsy,” she nodded, taking the traditional name. “What do I need to know about naiads?”
++++
“What is it Kol?” Elijah’s eyes flickered over his brother’s abnormally pale features.
He raked a hand through his hair and shook his head, hesitant to offer up whatever forgotten information had sprung up in his mind.
“One of my grimoires mentions a naiad,” he exhaled, seeing the cramped Gaelic in his mind’s eye. “The account spoke of fatherless children stolen in the dead of night and never seen again.”
He was moving toward the door before Kol finished speaking.
Elena spun toward the swinging door and read the panic in his eyes. Her brows lowered in silent question.
Fear cinched his heart.
“Is someone coming for her?” He stared at the dryad and got the distinct sense she saw straight through his attempts at intimidation.
She studied him, large eyes roaming his form.
“Does hostility bury your fears?” Willow cocked her head.
“Is someone coming for who?” Elena stepped toward the barrier, stomach trembling.
“Serena,” he held his breath.
She paled.
He very nearly crossed the barrier to hold her, but he held himself back. He didn’t trust himself to refrain from killing Willow if he disliked her answer.
“Why would someone come for her?” She looked back to Willow, voice shaking.
“Your child?” She looked to the page after frowning for a beat at Elijah. “At her age it’s unlikely. They will think her dead; if the children are not taken within the first few weeks they die.”
“Who takes them?” Her knees felt like water.
“I’m given to believe it was long ago when I last walked the earth. Humans lived near great sources of water then — near enough to walk in a matter of hours. For the children born to these human mothers the naiad father would reclaim them, but the mothers would often believe their baby possessed and leave them out to die, or they thought them changelings and left them in a grove. Some of these were fortunate and found by dryads in time to be returned to the water, but many more perished.”
Anger flashed behind her eyes.
“Had I known the children could survive with their human mothers I would have done things differently. Then again…” she sighed, eyes darting from Elena to the window she had opened, “… most mothers were entirely human, and humans have the most deplorable habit of persecuting that which they don’t understand. Perhaps they would have been worse off with woman who feared them.”
Elena’s jaw clicked, teeth clacking; only the barrier spell kept her from claiming Elijah’s hand. She reminded herself that as a ‘magical’ mother the assessment didn’t apply to her; her little girl was happy, healthy and loved. And the odds of her remembering one terrified scream that occurred at three weeks old were virtually non-existent without supernatural intervention.
“Why differently?” She latched onto the word. Her mind worked to go in a million directions to a million scenarios, but lacked the required information to start. “If someone had taken her what life would she have had?”
Willow’s eyes dragged back to Elena as she tilted her head, catching a breeze in her hair.
“Children are precious to Naiads; she would have been protected. It is the environment she would have grown up in.” She pressed her lips together, considering her words. “Naiads are only able to have children with humans. Females drown their partners as a way to protect their kind, but males possess an ability to wash away the memory of encounters with human woman. They can sense the time a woman might conceive, and combined with an ability to enthral humans many…” she hesitated, hearing Alaric’s words, “… many use their ability to force relations.”
Blood drained from Elena’s face. She swayed dangerously on her feet and would have fallen if Elijah hadn’t stepped into the circle, wrapping his arms around her.
“Not all,” Willow amended, meeting her eyes. “Perhaps those traditions have faded since I’ve been gone. I’m given to understand it’s been a while and there were some who did not approve of these methods.”
“But they still took the memories?” Elijah tightened his grip when Elena began to shake, tremors running down her spine.
“Humans persecute what they don’t understand,” she raised her arms, encompassing the circle of herbs as evidence.
She drew in a steadying breath and turned, silently raising her left wrist. She locked eyes with Elijah; dark veins spidered across his cheekbones.
He cradled her hand and pressed his lips to the delicate network of veins, piercing the skin with his canines — careful to only press with his fangs and leave two small punctures; her blood still exploded across his tongue, igniting his desire for her. Not that he needed an excuse to hold her tight and banish the dark thoughts from her mind.
Willow leaned in closer, curious, as Elena held her wrist over the barrier.
Two drops of blood painted the bud of a dried flower. The air shimmered. Elijah stepped back, taking Elena with him across the line.
She reached out a hand; clearing the line of herbs as the door swung open.
Dorian’s eyes locked on her hand and then flew to Elena’s face. Whatever warmth he had begun to feel for Willow’s situation evaporated, replaced by fear.
“What have you done?” He stared at the pristine handkerchief on Elena’s wrist.
“I thought that obvious,” Kol twirled the knife between his fingers. “Darling Willow over there, appears to have gained Elena’s trust. And given the doppelgänger’s history that is no easy feat.”
“Kol,” Elijah’s tone held a note of warning, hard and unyielding; a stark contrast to the gentle way he held Elena.
“And now she’s free with nothing to stop her from taking the knife and leaving us with no answers.”
“Why would I do that?” Willow lowered herself calmly into the chair, eyes shifting from Elena to Alaric. “You honoured our deal, so too shall I. What do you wish to know?”
++++
“What do you want to know?” A silver spoon brought a dainty helping of honeyed yogurt to pale lips surrounded by laugh lines.
Caroline savoured her coffee and glanced over the woman’s face. Chestnut ringlets, leeched of colour in places by the hand of time, framed sharp eyes; intelligence shone from the depths under envy inspiring lashes. The set of her mouth warned anyone who looked that she was not a woman to be trifled with.
“We’re looking for information on the merge,” Klaus sat down his coffee cup, “it’s a curse that effects the Gemini twins.”
Lydia arched an eyebrow as she deliberately placed her spoon on the breakfast table and pursed her lips.
“Not a peep from you in forty-six years,” she hummed, “and now you come for information? You’ve never made a habit of getting involved in witch business.”
“The gemini twins are fourteen years old,” Caroline’s knuckles turned white, “and they are my daughters. I’ve grown rather attached since having them and I have no intention of losing either of them to some ancient curse.”
Her heart raced, pumping adrenaline through her blood. Instinct said to wrap her fingers around the delicate throat and squeeze until she got answers. Social decency scolded the thought.
Klaus’ hand on her thigh grounded her.
“You should make your peace with what is to come.”
His fingers, the only thing keeping her from lunging, tightened.
“You are correct in your assumption that it’s a curse,” Lydia continued, glancing between them, “but this is one curse that can’t be undone. The gemini twins were cursed millennia ago by the Gypsy coven, and as the entire supernatural community knows the Gypsies met their end on the second day of May sixteen years ago.
Caroline paled, eyes flickering to Klaus as Hope’s birthday came up; the same day Damon first died in a fiery explosion.
“Without a gypsy your daughters will be forced to merge.”
“How can you speak with so much conviction?” Caroline simmered.
“The knowledge is not common, but it is there for those who know where to look, and those in positions of power.” Lydia’s fingertip circled the rim of her coffee cup.
“And which are you?” She gritted her teeth.
“I am the high priestess of my coven,” she lifted her chin.
“That’s new,” Klaus tilted his head. “Last I heard you were still called Maiden.”
“Maiden?” Caroline’s brows rose.
“For the goddess Persephone,” Lydia smiled, “a symbolic title bestowed on the daughter of the high priestess, symbolic, nothing more. And that was forty-six years ago,” she turned to address Klaus. “I took over when my mother passed ten years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that she’s passed,” he nodded.
“Thank you,” her dark eyes focused on Caroline, tinged with sadness. “My coven kept the knowledge of our progenitorial covens.”
“What do you mean ‘progenitorial covens’?” Caroline leaned forward, heart in her throat.
“I mean that 2000 years ago, give or take a few decades, a rift occurred between the two covens; it was strong enough that a small portion of witches from each broke away.” She tilted her head. “They severed all connections with their families and bound together a new coven; one free from the family feuds. Severing the bonds protected my coven from the curses.”
Lydia hummed, tapping the table.
“The Gemini cursed the Gypsy coven as punishment for their part in an ancient spell, and only the leader of the Gemini knows how to break it; in retaliation the Gypsy coven placed a curse upon the leaders of the Gemini, and every future leader. Only a gypsy born of an ancient bloodline would know how to break it.”
“And the travellers are gone,” Klaus finished.
“Not all of them,” she caught his gaze from the corner of her eye.
“The coven was destroyed,” Lydia reiterated, speaking slowly, as if to children.
“The travellers are gone,” Caroline shifted her weight, mentally pulling up a flight schedule, “but they’re not all dead.”
“Any remaining would be from non-practicing families. Families that stopped practicing centuries ago, so even if you found one they’d lack the information you seek.” Lydia shook her head.
“Even if she’s born of an ancient bloodline?”
“Caroline, she would have told you anything she knew,” he frowned.
“She didn’t exactly throw herself into learning,” she vibrated with energy. “She barely cracked the books because they were written in half a dozen languages, so what she knows she knows from Bonnie, plus that one spell she got from Hope.”
“You know a gypsy from the ancient bloodlines?” Lydia’s brows rose.
Klaus looked at Caroline for a moment, contemplating the situation; it would be just their luck to travel halfway around the world for a solution that had been under their noses the entire time.
“Yes,” he felt the corner of his mouth raise in an involuntary smile, “we do. And she’ll be more willing to help Caroline than she was me. Thank you, Lydia.”
As usual I do not own TVD or TO, but I also have to tell you that I don't own The Recovery Agent (Janet Evanovich) either. This story is based off of that one and will follow the plot of it changing characters and adding, hopefully, some empathy for the characters. It was hard reading for me, honestly. All tell and no show, I felt like I never knew what the characters were really feeling.
Elena Gilbert stood in a small clearing that led to a rope-and-board footbridge — the kind that threatened to toss pedestrians into a hundred foot gorge with the slightest misstep. And with a hundred feet of bridge many opportunities existed for faulty steps..
She couldn't see the river, courtesy of the pouring rain, but she could hear the ravenous roar of rapids. They urged her to step on a rotted board or lean too far to either side and plunge onto the enormous boulders at the bottom.
Chills swarmed her calves.
Elena adjusted her wide brimmed hat in a vain attempt to protect her long hair from the rain while keeping as much water as possible from her dark eyes. Over the last decade she had amassed a wide range of skills — martial arts, cooking, and shooting.
None of those skills kept her dry.
The rain soaked her through from head to toe, underwear and socks drenched. She hoped her slight tremble passed as cold.
She doubted her guides bought it. Genuine cold was next to impossible to feel in the hot and humid Ecuadorian rain forest.
She peered over the edge of the gorge, ignoring her mud caked shoes and pants in an attempt to spot the water. Her fingers twitched to the plastic protected gun in her waistband and touched the folding knife in her pocket before finding her lip gloss.
"Is this safe?" She nodded to the bridge and spread the gloss over her cracked lips.
"Yes," Diego, one of her guides, nodded.
"And it's the only way?" She tucked away the lipgloss and swung her backpack around to lift her canteen free for a drink. Her eyes landed on the useless waterproof poncho.
Diego and Tomás shrugged. Elena was pretty sure they thought her idiotic.
"You first," she nodded to Diego. If she had to cross a rickety bridge in the middle of the rainforest she sure as hell wasn't going first.
He gave another shrug and mumbled something in Spanish. Granted she hadn't spoken much since high school, but she was pretty damn sure he called her a 'chickenshit woman'.
She let it slide, in part because at that particular instance in time she was exactly what he said, but also because it paid to be underestimated. Should things turn ugly, she felt certain she could kick his ass with ease. And if she couldn't then she could shoot him.
Nothing fatal, of course; she'd just take off a toe.
She followed after him with a tight grip on the poor excuses for handrails, placing her muddy hiking boots with care on the slick boards. It had been raining when she touched down in Quito two days ago; the rain had persisted for the twenty-five minute flight to Cacao, across the Napo River ferry and when she met her guides at daybreak. She had traveled six hours by canoe down a narrow, winding, river with no name to a crude campground hacked out of the jungle where they followed a obscured trail through the dense vegetation.
And it was still raining.
She just knew the rain had partnered with the river to try and claim her life.
Not today, buddy, she glared over the side of the bridge.
She had come too far to let a rickety bridge be her end. She refused to turn around with her tail between her legs.
She had a reputation to uphold: an international reputation for excellence in the field of insurance fraud investigation. As an independent contractor she had traveled the world over. It was hardly her first time traipsing through a jungle, but it was the first time she had taken a rope bridge in a deluge.
She chose to think of the big bag of money she'd get when she finished the job, not the old will naming her now ex-husband as beneficiary and the likelihood of him actually getting everything with one wrong step.
She thought instead of Atticus Shane and the priceless amulet he carried. Her information on both Shane and the amulet were incomplete at best and pitiful at worst; he couldn't leave his job site, and he'd requested someone retrieve the antique. That seemed reasonable enough since Shane was an archaeologist busy researching a lost civilization along a recently unexplored stretch of the Amazon Rain Forest.
Success promised a big bag of money, but that wasn't why she chose to take the job. She was an independent contractor, after all, she got to be picky.
Way back in her family tree, unconfirmed by genealogy, Blackbeard rested on a branch — the Blackbeard. Ever since learning that interesting tidbit as a little girl she had been fascinated with pirates and every civilization they touched; she may, or may not, have driven friend's, family and ex-husbands crazy with a tiny obsession with Jack Sparrow.
She couldn't pass up an opportunity to visit an honest-to-goodness lost civilization, especially on her thirtieth birthday. What better way to celebrate, and mute her biological clock's alarm, than to have an adventure?
"How much farther?" She shouted ahead to Diego, wincing as the rough rope scraped her palms.
"Not far," he yelled back, barely discernible over the roar of the river. "Just on the other side of the bridge."
Thanks, she rolled her eyes, but I was talking about the damn bridge.
Thankfully her boots squelched through mud a few minutes later before she could fully discover a fear of heights that she suspected lurked in the back of her brain. Twenty minutes after that she stepped into the dig site.
Archeological digs were a part of the job — she'd been on many over the years — but Shane's was not what she expected. She picked her way past the partially exposed rubble that, once upon a time, was a wall on her path to a handful of tables and benches under a blessedly dry tarp.
She eyed the rustic kitchen, a handful of crates and the trampled ground that had very recently been used for tents.
A single tent remained.
Between the safety of the tarp and the tent were two men. The closest laid facedown in the rubble: waterlogged, bloated and obviously dead. The second man twitched on a folding camp chair, staring at them as if they were ghosts that had stepped out of the jungle.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
"This is not good," Diego grumbled, waving one hand around manically. "One of these men is very dead… and something has eaten his leg."
Elena shuddered and stepped into the rain again until she was close enough to see the teeth marks on what remained of his left thigh.
"P-panther." Her eyes cut to the man in the chair. A bit of colour returned as he straightened and faced Diego head on; eager, she suspected, to have a different sight than the corpse at her feet. "You can h-hear them prowling through the jungle at night, by the tents."
She listened but picked up only falling rain.
"This place is hell on earth!" Fire flashed in the man's eyes, settling back to dejection after a beat as he regarded them with rising caution. "You lot just our for a stroll?"
"I was sent to retrieve an amulet from Atticus Shane." Elena straightened her spine and turned to face him, ignoring the clawing suspicion creeping up her throat. It was her birthday, the universe couldn't be that cruel. "Y'all should have been expecting me."
The man nodded to the corpse because evidently the universe hated her.
"That's Shane. Had some bad luck."
"What happened?" She tipped her head to the body as nausea rose up.
"He was, uh…" the man rubbed the back of his neck. "He was checking the excavation first thing this morning, fell off the wall over there and smashed his head on the rocks. A panther came at his leg before we could scare it away. Everybody packed up and left after that," his eyes darted around the site, "too many bad things happen here."
"But you stayed," Elena swallowed.
"Couldn't carry it all," he shrugged. "I stayed with the rest and the body. Cameron said he'd be back before it got dark."
"And do you know where Shane kept the amulet?" Her stomach turned over. He hadn't trusted anyone to physically carry it out of the jungle; she couldn't imagine he'd just leave it lying around where anyone could grab it.
"Usually on a chain around his neck — thought it was the safest spot. Right now it looks like he's got it in his hand, though."
She shut her eyes again and breathes slowly through her mouth. There was a reason she elected not to follow uncle Grayson's plan for her life — aside from it not being her dream — touching dead people gave her the heebie-jeebies; there was no way she could have gone through years of med school practicing procedures on corpses.
Give me an adventure over a cadaver any day.
Elena stared at the grotesquely swollen fist concealing all but the edge of the amulet from view and felt her lip curl.
"Someone's gonna have to get his hand open." No one volunteered and her nose wrinkled.
"Guess it's me," she mumbled, flicking a centipede from her sleeve.
She traveled to the rainforest expecting rain and mud, bugs and sweltering heat. She had not expected dead men.
How badly do I really want that amulet? Her flesh crawled.
The lost city was a total let down, but there was still a huge payday attached to the amulet. She had gotten used to being able to afford her absurd rent, the ridiculous price of groceries and the occasional designer items to round out her closet.
Though she was well respected in the field large paydays like this one didn't come around everyday.
She wanted the damn amulet.
"I'm not going back without it," she straightened her shoulders and spun to the man in the chair. "I gotta pry his hand open. I'm gonna need gloves and a baggie; these sites usually have them."
"Sorry," the most unhelpful man in the world shook his head. "They were all sent out earlier. Honestly, we were shutting down before this happened. Shane was the only reason we held out so long because he found the amulet and was convinced there was something else here; nobody else cared."
"We need to leave now," Diego edged away from Elena and the dead man. "We don't want to be in the jungle after sunset. Hard to find the way, and panthers will be hunting…" he tipped his head towards the canopy. "We have, maybe, five hours of daylight left."
"I'm not leaving without the amulet!" She crossed her arms, but before she could even think of kneeling to do the unthinkable and use her bare hands to pry the trinket free Tomás took his machete out of its sheath.
It swung in a deadly arc and severed Atticus Shane's hand at the wrist with a squelch, separating flesh, blood, and bone with a single blow.
Bile rose in her throat.
"Guess that's one way to do it," she covered her mouth as Tomás lifted the hand by the swollen thumb. "I'd have preferred to try my way."
"He's dead," he frowned at Elena, "doesn't need his hand anymore."
Elena's eyes bulged when he lifted the flap of her backpack and dropped the severed limb inside. With the luck she had it had landed on her zip-locked cellphone, but no layer of plastic could ever be enough protection.
"Problem solved," Diego nodded.
"Maybe for you," she grumbled, "I'm gonna have to burn this bag now."
"He's right about the jungle," the man in the chair said. "If you're going back the way you came then you don't want to go back alone, or stray from the path… that would be a very bad idea," he shook his head.
"If everyone left this morning why didn't we see them?" Elena held her breath and attempted to hold her pack as far from her back as possible.
"Took the road behind the wall," he jerked his thumb in the right direction. "Forty-five minute walk and it cuts the river trip in half."
Elena cast an inquisitive, hopeful look to her guides, already dreaming of being dry, but Diego shook his head.
"Bad juju; that road is Anaconda Highway."
++++
Nearly four hours later, after the rain let up and marginally eased their journey, Elena stopped at the edge of the river and dropped her back pack. Purification seared her nostrils to the point that she could no longer smell the damp earth, or even her own body odour; as disgusting as it sounded she'd gladly take her own sweat, or the combined stench of her high school football team after a practice, over the foul aroma wafting from her bag.
"I can't take it anymore," she tossed up her hands, silently commanding her guides to cease their motions near the motorized canoe. "One way, or another, I'm getting that amulet out of his hand. With any luck the swelling's gone down."
"It's not good to stay here," Diego scowled, furtive eyes darting to the jungle, "the hand will draw predators."
"Not a problem," she flipped open her pack and tipped it, letting the hand tumble out. "They're welcome to it, just as soon as I've got what I came for. It shouldn't take me long."
She retrieved her knife from the back pocket of her stiff cargo pants and opened the blade. She held her breath against the smell of decomposing flesh and fought through her gag reflex.
Her guides inched away, closer to the canoe.
She didn't blame them; things were going to get far worse before they got better. She could hardly believe she actually planned to do surgery in the middle of the jungle necrotic flesh. There was bound to be blood, severed fingers, and, if history were any indication — vomit; the thought alone brought a noxious smell to her nose.
She gagged.
She tossed her bag towards the two men and placed her foot on the hand for leverage because there was no way, no damn way, she was touching it without gloves; she doubted she'd touch it with gloves.
At first she tried to pry the fingers open with the blade of the knife. When that didn't work she rocked back on her heels and assessed the situation; all she had managed to do was mangle the hand with deep purple cuts.
Fine hairs rose on the back of her neck.
"I hear something in the brush," Diego frowned, slowly stretching a hand towards the boat. "We should go right now."
"We've been hearing things in the brush for four hours," she wiped sweat from her brow with her wrist; goosebumps prickled her spine.
"That makes it worse," Diego snapped. "It could be the panther stalking the hand you're standing on."
"Don't be ridiculous," she shook her head, gaze darting to the dense foliage. "It would have attacked by now. The brush is full of small animals doing whatever it is they do."
Her voice dropped off when she caught their anxious expressions and thought that maybe, just maybe, she should listen to her guides in this one instance.
Instead she bent to try the knife again and a panther crept out of the jungle.
She couldn't look away from glowing green eyes, focused with fierce determination on her and the hand beneath her foot. Danger lingered in his coiled muscles and powerful jaw.
Behind her she heard the unmistakable sounds of feet jumping into a canoe and water splashing as the boat was pushed away from the shore.
Her hand remained steady as her insides trembled. Slowly she pulled the gun from her waistband and trained it on the beast.
"Panther's are on the endangered list," Diego warned from the relative safety of the canoe.
"This one ate Atticus Shane," Elena adjusted her aim right between the cat's laser eyes.
"Humans aren't endangered…" she could hear his eyes roll. "It's okay for panthers to eat them."
Reluctantly, and with great effort, she dragged her feet backwards two steps.
The panther darted forward, snatched up the hand, and raced into the jungle.
"I'd have taken the shot," Tomás remarked.
"We could track him." She clicked on the safety and stowed the gun. "He won't eat the amulet."
They exchanged glances and nodded after a drawn out breath.
"You can track him," Diego met her eyes, "we'll wait here for you."
Yeah, right, she clenched her teeth and stared into the jungle. They wouldn't wait for her. The second she stepped under the canopy they would take off and she'd be stuck in the jungle with no cell service and no boat. By the time she managed to walk back to the encampment, if she could find it at all in the dark, it would be abandoned.
And the beautiful panther terrified her, if she were being honest — which she would never be with them. She admitted to herself that it would be terrible to have to shoot him, and worse to become his main course after archaeologist finger appetizers.
She kicked through the shallows and climbed in the canoe.
Shortly after nightfall Elena, stepped out of the motorized canoe and onto the dock at Neuvo Rocafuerte. She paid her guides, tossed her emptied backpack into a trashcan, and strode away. She powered up her cellphone as she went.
She had been on better outings, but worse business trips existed in the rearview and she got to see a wild panther on her birthday.
How often was that likely to happen?
She went to check for messages, but only had time to notice fifteen missed calls before the culprit called again and she pressed the phone to her ear.
"Hi Mom."
"Hi baby girl, happy birthday," Isobel's voice warbled in song — her mom was many things, but a singer she was not. "We've been trying to call you all day, but you must have been busy."
"I'm in Ecuador," she shook off the shudder as her ears rang. "I just got cell service now."
In the background her grandma Nina shouted happy birthday.
"Is grandma living with you?" She frowned, picturing her tough as nails grandmother moved into a granny suite.
"For a bit," Isobel hummed. "I've been thinking about selling. We can't afford to fix the damages; nobody can."
Elena nodded, thinking of the tropical storm that hit her hometown six months earlier. It was unusual for a hurricane that strong to touch down in Mystic Falls, but rules existed to be broken. Her mom had sent pictures after the rain slowed and the floodwaters lowered: houses off their foundations, roofs ripped clean away and windows blown out.
She didn't like to think about the town square.
"What about insurance? I know you've got good insurance?"
"Oh baby," Isobel sighed, "nobody in this towns got insurance; it's too expansive."
She thought of her old bedroom with the pale purple walls plastered over with dozens of cringey band posters and hundreds of old pictures, and felt her throat close up. She thought about lecturing her mom, but there was no point. What was done was done, and Isobel was right: insurance premiums were through the roof and she had always worked hard to pay for everything else.
"Where are you gonna go?" She blinked back a tear; it wasn't like she lived with her mother anymore.
"I was thinking of Washington to be closer to the University. I wouldn't mind a shorter commute."
She thought her mom's voice sounded thick. A house in Washington wouldn't have the doorjamb with her height marked in pencil, or the tiny flag Elena drew on the wall when she was four and mom told her she was a descendant of Blackbeard with pirate blood in her veins. Grandma had been less than pleased to find a four year old drawing on the walls her twenty-year old daughter worked ridiculously hard to provide; mom helped her draw a pirate ship too.
"Your dad already left…"
"Dad's always leaving," she rolled her eyes. "You moved us to Mystic Falls to be closer to him and he spent most of my life traveling for work; more after the divorce. An airplane was more of a home to him than the town."
"We became parents very young, baby girl."
"I know, mama," she raked a hand through her sweat soaked hair. "You didn't seem worried when I was at home for Christmas."
"We thought the town would get emergency funding," Isobel admitted, "but the funding never came through. And now there's a real estate developer making offers on the houses. It's a low offer, but better than nothing."
There was a short struggle and then her grandmother came on the line.
"I'm not giving up my house. That was my mother's house and her mother's house before; why do you think I jumped at the chance to move back to town?"
"Grandma, your house doesn't have a roof."
"It can be fixed," Nina huffed in that way she always had. "All of the houses and businesses can be fixed. We just need some money, and I've got a surefire way of getting a whole lot of it if you'll help. I've got a plan."
"Your plan is nuts," Isobel scoffed. "It's crazy talk, not a plan."
Elena checked the time, knowing how long an argument between the two woman could last. She was desperate to shower and change before making a hundred and one phone calls, so she jumped into the conversation before her mom could talk about having her grandmother committed, and grandma returned with a version of I-changed-your-diapers-and-you'll-change-mine.
"I'm leaving Ecuador tomorrow; I'll get my ticket changed to Washington instead and we can all discuss this over dinner."
++++
The last minute ticket change landed Elena on the red eye out of Quito so that she touched down in Washington a little after noon. With her rented car she took her time passing through the countryside before crossing over the old Wickery Bridge into her hometown of Mystic Falls.
Aside from the falls for which the town was named there wasn't a lot to see or do. At least not if you were local, but tourists flocked to Mystic Falls for its Southern history, quaint town charm and proximity to nature.
They used to, anyway.
Now it seemed like every brick storefront she passed was boarded up. A handful of cars were parked outside the Grill, but nowhere near the regular amount, otherwise the town appeared deserted. Not so much as a high school kid cutting class on a beautiful spring day.
She picked her way around pot holes until she reached her mom's house on the edge of Peach Street. The Gremlin sat proudly in the driveway as it had since Isobel saved up enough to afford the second hand car when Elena was five years old and she got a research position at Duke; a little younger than most of her newly brought on co-workers, but damn if her mom hadn't worked hard for it.
She knew exactly what the inside of the house would smell like before she entered, and she wasn't disappointed to breathe in a deep breath of lavender scented candles and store bought chocolate chip cookies when she opened the door.
She was a little surprised to smell warm chocolate.
Her surprise melted away when Isobel drew her into the dining room with a bright smile and sat her at the table with a mug of peppermint tea and a large cake she knew to be chocolate under the neon pink icing.
"Mom," she shook her head.
"Don't you dare tell me I didn't have to, Elena Gilbert-Flemming," she gave Elena's braid a playful tug as if she were still five years old and not thirty, "you're my only baby, so I get to spoil you on your birthday."
"You know you're the only one who calls me Gilbert-Flemming," she took a sip of tea and fought off her exhaustion. One day she would learn to sleep properly on an airplane.
"It's the only way I ever hear my name attached to yours," she grinned, dropping into a seat at the table and twisting to call upstairs, "Mom, she's here. Grandma made the frosting."
"Cake too, I bet," Elena smirked.
"What exactly are you implying, daughter-of-mine?" Isobel raised an eyebrow.
"Just that you can't cook to save your life, and that if it weren't for grandma, Sheila Bennett and takeout we probably would have starved." She sat down her mug and twisted to smile at her grandmother.
"She's right you know," Nina snickered, patting Isobel's shoulder as she passed to her chair. "You can't cook, honey."
"Well, I'll have you know, baby girl, that I did cook the cake!" Isobel huffed, fighting a smile back.
"And I'll have you know, sweetheart," Nina tapped the table, "that I supervised the entire thing."
"So, it's edible then?" Elena looked from mother to grandmother.
"Quite so, honey," Nina grinned.
"I do a nice thing for my baby, and both her and my mother use it as an opportunity to roast me," Isobel tossed up her hands.
"I'm sorry, mom," Elena stifled a giggle and reached out, wrapping her arms around her, "the cake is beautiful, and it smells delicious, but you should know that I'll love you even if it gives me food poisoning."
"You're getting cheekier every year," Isobel made a sound between a laugh and a sob as she hugged Elena tight. "I'd like you to go back to being five years old now."
"I don't think I can," she shook her head, pulling back to rest in her chair.
"Well, I love you anyway," Isobel smiled and tucked a loose curl behind Elena's ear. "How was Ecuador? What were you doing there?"
"It was hot and wet, and I lost the amulet I was sent to retrieve." Elena fiddled with the edge of her watch. "The worse part is I had to call the lawyer who hired me and tell her about the wild panther who ran off with it. I felt like I was telling Miss. Rogers the dog ate my homework; she never bought that excuse."
"We didn't have a dog, baby," Isobel rubbed her arm.
"Well, there was a panther, and it stole my amulet. And the lawyer — the calm, collected lawyer — did a great impression of a demon."
"She can't be more devilish than this developer," Nina cut a piece of cake and slid it to her grandchild. "He wants to build some sort of resort here — a spa resort, I think. Kingmaster Land Development is forcing the bank to foreclose on a bunch of properties and he's trying to buy up houses cheap so he can tear them down. This one included," she gestured to the walls. "And Liz Forbes, not to mention almost everyone else you know."
"At least someone's willing to buy, mom," Isobel sighed, her eyes shimmered and flicked to the closet where Elena's height was marked in pencil, "otherwise I'll be walking away and losing everything."
"We need to fix the town and clean up the paths to the falls, get this place up and running again for tourists."
"And how much is that gonna cost?" Elena took a big bite of chocolate cake and felt her eyes close in bliss.
"I figure about fifteen million."
She coughed on cake crumbs, after she swallowed and managed to breathe again she focused on Nina.
"What?"
"Obviously that included other stuff, sweetie," she ran her finger around the rim of her mug. "We want to fully rebuild the Grill and clean up the square, plus all of the other businesses and individual peoples houses. Repairs are so expensive with lumber prices where they are; Esther hasn't even rebuilt yet, and that family is hardly searching the couch cushions for spare change. We could use the money to give people that wanna stay loans until they get back on their feet."
"And just where do you expect to get fifteen million dollars?" Elena raised her brows and tilted her head. She waved with one hand to the living room. "Between the couch cushions."
"Of course not," Nina smiled, "I have a plan, and I need your help for it. Do you remember when you were a little girl and I would tell you stories about your great aunt's house in St. Vincent?"
"The secret room?" She glanced at her mom.
"Exactly," she nodded, leaning close across the table. "I've just learned that the room is under the floorboards of Margaret's bedroom. There's supposed to be all kinds of things that belonged to Blackbeard in there."
Elena hated herself in that instant when the mere mention of Blackbeard sent a spike of adrenaline through her blood.
"Your great aunt Judith used to talk about a chest filled with maps and a diary, so I'm hoping you can go there and find the chest and maybe a map to lead to treasure."
"Grandma…" Elena chewed her bottom lip, "how exactly did you find out about this room?"
"Katherine told me so."
"Katherine?" She blinked quickly, eyes darting between the woman. "The ghost?"
"I warned you, baby," Isobel raked a hand through her hair.
"She dropped in the other night and told me all about the room," Nina cut herself a slice of cake, "that's when I got the idea for you to find the chest. That's what you do, isn't it honey? Recover treasure."
"Well, yeah, but… grandma, this is fairy-tale treasure you're talking about!"
"I'm pretty sure it's real," she took a bite of cake, chewed and swallowed, "Judith said it was real."
Judith was Elena's great-grandmother's sister. Most of the family migrated to Virginia, but not Judith; she stayed behind in the Caribbean and when she died she passed the house on to Elena since she never had children of her own.
"It's not just me, Katherine wants you to find the treasure so you can save the town," Nina said.
Elena sighed. Grandma had been telling stories for as long as she could remember about the tragic love affair between Blackbeard and a beautiful woman named Katherine; poor Katherine had died giving birth to their daughter and according to family legend they were all descended from that daughter.
Elena had never personally seen or heard the ghost, but Nina often dragged out Katherine in moments of minor crisis. Katherine is very upset that you didn't eat your breakfast. Katherine is upset you got a D in math. Katherine is horrified that you smoked a cigarette at the party.
Imagine Katherine's horror if she knew it wasn't a cigarette.
"All you have to do is hop over to St. Vincent and get the chest."
"Is that all," she rolled her eyes even as her heart stuttered. "I'm sorry to tell you Grandma, but that's not gonna happen. I no longer own Judith's house because Kol got it in the divorce. I haven't seen him or the house in seven years."
"I'm sure he'd let you get the chest," Nina stabbed a piece of cake onto her fork.
Elena shook her head and chewed her bottom lip. Up until then she had kept most of the details private.
"It wasn't…" she blew out a rush of air. "It wasn't a friendly divorce. I gave him that house so I wouldn't have to see him every time I came back to Mystic Falls."
"You two always fought like cats and dogs," Nina shook her head. "I never did understand why you married him."
Elena had no answer. At least not one that would satisfy her grandmother.
What could she say?
She got into a fight with Kol Mikaelson on the first day of kindergarten, and every day since they found something to argue about, but they were inexplicably inseparable; a part of him always called out to something in her. They were the scourge of the town, so that when an empty car turned up in the river, or graffiti appeared anywhere Sheriff Forbes knew exactly which door to knock on.
They dated all through high school, got married in college.
They fought over breakfast cereal and movies, detergent and bedroom temperature, and almost every other aspect of their lives. Then they had mind-blowing makeup sex and argued about it when they were done.
The residents of Mystic Falls, Virginia had all acknowledged that their's was the loudest, most contentious, fantastic divorce in the history of the town.
None of that would satisfy Nina Flemming.
"I loved him," she shrugged, staring at the table. Isobel reached over and squeezed her wrist. "He was fun."
And adorable and sexy straight through to the end of the marriage, but it was probably best not to say stuff like that in present company. He was also a slob, lacked ambition, had a habit of drinking too much with his brother and insisted on calling her Ellie.
"There's no way I can go to St. Vincent and search for a treasure chest stored under his bedroom," Elena shrugged and smiled apologetically.
"Without the treasure it's hopeless. And I get that it sounds crazy, but I can't come up with anything else."
"I'm sorry Grandma," she looked to her mother.
Isobel rubbed the back of her neck. "She is right about it being hopeless, baby. We're all scraping the bottom of the barrel for idea and money."
"Say you'll consider it at least, sweetie?" Nina reached across the table to hold her hands.
She knew exactly how that train of thought would go, precisely where it would lead.
"I'll think about it," she blinked slowly, "but first I need to get back to New York and take care of some business."
Just saw a post on Facebook about kids getting in trouble for reading their books at times when they weren’t supposed to (recess, math class, etc…)
That did happen to me, but it made me think about this time in fifth grade when my math teacher got mad at me, not for reading a book but for doing my work.
Basically I read the examples while he was teaching the rest of the class on the chalkboard. And since he had the assigned questions already listed I went ahead and got started on them. I was over halfway done when he noticed and proceeded to yell at me, calling me out in front of the whole class for not paying attention to him.
I WAS DOING THE WORK!! I DID NOT DESERVE TO BE BROUGHT TO ATTENTION LIKE THAT!
…
I might still be a little bitter about this.
But it has had an impact on me. To this day when I’m teaching if I see someone moving ahead while I demonstrate for the struggling students then I don’t say a word.
Those kids are good, just like I was good.
Seriously, if he wanted me to pay rapt attention to him he should have given me some freaking enrichment.
“Caroline, love, it’s nearly two in the morning.” He fought down his laughter when she tossed her bags down and made a beeline for the suite’s door.
“I’m on Virginia time, and it’s only seven there.” She paused, spinning to face him with hands on her hips.
He boxed her in; one hand on either side of her shoulders.
“I doubt the entirety of Santorini operates on Virginia time.”
“I don’t need the entirety of Santorini on Virginia time,” she rolled her eyes. I just need one witch from the coven. Are you really going to tell me not a single witch could still be awake at two in the morning?”
“Eager,” he smirked, twisting a lock of blonde hair around his fingers.
“Klaus.” She drew out his name in an annoyed groan.
“I understand why,” he tucked the hair behind her ear. “This is the first lead you’ve truly had in a long time.”
“Years,” she licked her bottom lip.
He could see in her eyes the reflection of a ticking clock with more time than his, but counting down nonetheless; he would not be the least surprised to find a timer on her phone counting down to the second her girls turned twenty-two. He would have been surprised if there wasn’t one.
“I’m sure we can find one.”
She yanked him through the door before he finished speaking, and though he had said as much he stiffened when he spotted a single witch halfway down the street.
Caroline, being Caroline, noticed.
“That was fast.” She followed his gaze to the swarthy man. Black curls swayed by his chin as his face shifted into a deep frown when he sensed their joint gaze. “Friend of yours?”
“Chrisos,” he swallowed and cleared his throat. “He’s the elder brother of a former lover: Lydia.”
“I see,” she clicked her tongue, too preoccupied for the short flash of irrational jealousy. “Do they hate you?”
“Hate is such a strong word,” he hummed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Well in that case,” she let go of his hand and waved, calling loudly to gain the man’s attention. “Excuse me!”
His eyes snapped to her, widening when he spotted Klaus trailing behind.
“Hi,” she came to a halt three feet in front of him, “my name is Caroline Forbes, and I hear you’re part of the oldest coven in Greece.”
“What is it you want?” He spoke in accented English, weary eyes flickering from her to Klaus.
“Answers.”
“I know nothing,” he shook his head and turned to leave.
“Chrisos,” Klaus took a deep breath, “prospatheí na sósei tis kóres tis.”
He paused, looking over his shoulder to meet Klaus’ earnest gaze.
“Eínai to teleftaía didyma Didymoi,” he placed a hand on the small of her back, catching — for a moment — her confused frown.
“Last twins, Gemini?” He looked to Caroline for confirmation. “Ancient curses. I still know nothing.”
“You know its a curse,” Klaus’ eyes narrowed.
“Please,” she held her breath. “They are my children. Anything will help.”
“I know nothing,” he repeated, expression slowly softening, “but Lydia… she may know.”
++++
Phone please,” Elena held out her hand, palm up.
“It’s only 6:43,” he stopped the car and bit down his smirk. His fingers itched to dial; he’d had to force himself to take an alternate route so they wouldn’t call to soon and then feared he would arrive too late.
“Do I have to climb over this console to get it?” She twisted, unbuckling her seatbelt.
“Not before dinner,” he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest.
“Elijah,” she rolled her eyes, but couldn’t stop the short laugh.
He chuckled, pulled her phone from his pocket and tapped the screen three times before placing the device in her hand. Her foot jiggled as they waited, after an eternity Landon’s face filled the screen.
“Hey sorry,” he shrugged, “Hope had her hands full; just a second.”
They were staring at the ceiling for a beat before Landon settled on Hope’s bed and they got a shot of the teenagers propped against the headboard. Serena sat in Hope’s lap with her back to her chest and her hands wrapped loosely around the bottle Hope supported; she smiled lazily upon seeing them.
“Hello, baby,” she smiled. “Are you being a good girl for Hope.”
She gurgled as she finished her snack.
“She’s been an angel and is just about ready to go to bed,” she placed the empty bottle on the nightstand. Sitting Serena upright, she rubbed her back until she burped.
“Are you gonna say goodnight?” She murmured, settling the baby back.
Her chubby arm reached for the phone; Landon held it closer until she was the only thing on the screen.
“You look like you might fall asleep before your story tonight,” Elijah smiled.
Sleepy eyes turned to him. She smiled, flashing a white incisor; that one tooth had caused so much pain — only sleeping cradled against his chest had soothed her.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he echoed Elena’s words, voices overlapping.
“Da,” Serena yawned, “dadadadadada.”
His car keys clattered to the floor. The string of sound cut off around a big yawn; she reached for something beyond the camera, interest seemingly lost in them as a thin book appeared.
Elena wondered whether ‘If Animals Kissed Goodnight’ had been sitting on there, or whether Hope had used magic to summon it… or if the slim volume had flown randomly across the bedroom? Things had started doing that recently, and half the time she felt certain she hadn’t done it; it seemed growing within the walls of a magical school with a mommy who levitated forgotten things was helping Serena tap into her power early in life.
She caught a glimpse of Elijah’s expression from the corner of her eye and ended the call with a final goodnight before lowering the phone. With her hands in her lap she waited a long moment and watched him stare at her phone.
Since the day she stabbed herself to dagger him she had been able to see every emotion in his eyes: anguish and terror then. Heartache a split second before he broke a hole in the earth. Self-loathing more times then she could count. In Willoughby, when she had wanted to run far away because his mere presence threatened the precarious switch, he had looked at her with a mix of grief and hope.
And always, Always, the unspoken thing she had begun to think of as Forever.
But this was different.
New.
She thought she might have seen it that day in the hospital.
“Elena,” he breathed, all wonder blown pupils and a smile he didn’t know what to do with; she watched him try to contain it: uncertain.
“Elijah,” she smiled, tilting her head. In truth that first word felt natural, given the role he had taken on; one that she could see he wanted more than anything. She knew he wasn’t going anywhere of his own volition and if he wanted the title then as far as she was concerned he had more than earned it; it was his.
As was her heart.
“Did she just…?” He trailed off, watching her nod. “Do you have nothing to say?”
“What should I have to say about that?” She fished, raising one eyebrow.
“Perhaps your feelings on this new development?”
“If I admit how I feel about it then so do you,” she smirked.
Amusement lit his eyes as they seamlessly slid into a bargain.
“That seems like a fair deal,” he nodded. “Ladies first.”
“Honestly?” She pursed her lips, thinking of the best way to present the myriad of thoughts in her head. “I’m a little jealous,” she settled on, “I’ve been trying to get her to say ‘mama’ for weeks.”
For a long moment he remained silent, thinking, as she had, on the right words.
“I speak a great deal of languages Elena, and yet I cannot find the words to describe this feeling,” he lifted her hand to his chest. His heart beat fast beneath her palm.
“Is it anything like how I felt in the hospital? Like my blood was champagne and I could have flown away for the effervescence?”
“Was this before or after the drugs wore off?” He chuckled.
“After,” she rolled her eyes, “when I was holding her.”
“Something like that,” he nodded, eyes flickering to her fingers drawing random shapes along his shirt. “I feel like she’s mine,” he admitted, softly.
As an adopted child she knew better than most that family extended beyond blood.
“She seems to think so, and is hardly a wonder to why.”
At his sudden look she shrugged and slipped her palm up, over his jaw.
“You’ve spent only a few hours a day away from her, and most of them only because of the class you’ve been covering for Caroline. She’s a baby; she understands who’s there everyday. I don’t know where she heard ‘dada’, but she’s associated that with you, and as long as you want that then so do I.”
There had never been a doubt he would always be there; he had all but given his word once, and he did so again.
“I do.”
++++
Hope examined the picture over the top of Serena’s sleeping head and grinned.
“Worth it.”
++++
He lost interest in his pages the moment her arm snaked around his torso and her even breathing fanned across his chin, choosing instead to focus on the wrinkle in her brow.
With his work safely on the nightstand he worked the spiral notebook free from between her stomach and his hip, careful not to tear the thin pages. A dozen precise diagrams surrounded the margins, creating a border of interlocked circles around an incantation; crossed out and rewritten so many times he could hardly tell what the original words had been, but he knew them; the failed spell from Davina.
Sometimes he wondered if she hadn’t deliberately botched it.
He simmered at the thought for the thousandth time.
Bonnie approached the task of Elena’s lost memory with increased frenzy — several crossed out spells having torn through the page. After every failure her agitation would grow, increasing the sloppy nature of the following attempt.
She acted like he had under Finn’s hex, trapped in the deteriorating body of Kaleb Westphall and desperate to escape.
Only, as much as he longed to blame her, Elena placed no extraneous pressure on her friend. There existed no clock to tick away second after hopeless second, and yet…
Bonnie acted as if under a looming deadline.
Every crossed out day on her calendar tensed her shoulders a little more.
He sat her notes aside. Then he slipped his arm beneath her body and worked on the tight muscles below her shoulder blades.
She grunted her discomfort, but soon moaned under the skilled message and melted into his embrace.
He shifted onto his side and wrapped his free arm around her waist.he pressed gentle circles into the small of her back.
“A li’l lower,” she mumbled, barely coherent.
“You should be asleep, darling,” he murmured, lips against her ear. His fingers dipped down.
“Too tense,” she hummed, whining when his hands left her body. She moved with him as he sat her up, peeking through mostly closed eyes.
He took off her shirt; gooseflesh rose across her stomach. He removed her bra and stared a beat too long before kissing her bare shoulder.
“On your stomach, love.”
She kept cocoa butter on her nightstand. He spread some across his hands before touching the small of her back.
“So not where I thought you were going with this,” she yawned, relaxing under the perfect pressure moving up her spine.
“Complaining?” He teased, making small circles with his thumbs. The soft quality of her voice told him she was drifting off.
“Maybe a little.”
His hands worked across her upper arms and started back down her spine.
“What if I promise to wake you up with a more intimate massage?” He paused, spending some time on a tight spot near her ribs. “One that utilizes my tongue along with my hands?”
He felt the shiver of desire beneath his fingers and suspected she would dream of it.
“That would be nice,” she murmured.
He continued kneading her muscles until she fell asleep. Then he lifted the blankets over her, took off his shirt and jeans and slipped into bed.
++++
“One that talks?” She paced the length of her cage, back and forth, toeing the edge for a hint of weakness.
More space than the unending darkness and yet less. Her freedom lurked in the dark shadows beneath towering trees just beyond the window; close enough to taste.
Such cruelty, to make her watch the wind whistle in leaves and not feel it on her skin or in her hair — to smell the rich earth and be unable to touch.
Her fingers skimmed the back of a chair, devoid of the spark of life she longed to feel again.
She wavered hovering between her out of reach freedom and the task that would ensure liberation without fear.
From the corner of her eye she watched the man pace the outside of her prison and sit in another chair.
“Are you going to stand all night?” He asked, offering up the chair beneath her slender fingers as if they were having a civil conversation as equals and not captive and captor.
She ignored him and let her gaze flicker around the room; he went on.
“We figured out the pattern. The monsters come one at a time.”
She cast him a sharp look. Who was this human to speak in such a way?
“I had to kill a wraith thing,” he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. He twirled the blessed, cursed, knife between his fingers. “A dragon, a goblin, an Arachne… and more; we’ve killed them all just to find one of you that can talk about why you want this so bad.”
A monster? He called her a monster. He who slaughtered those that came before; those who came from the never-ending black?
“So now, it’s time to talk.”
She watched him through lowered brows.
“Why would I talk to evil creatures that kill?”
“You’re calling me evil?” His mouth popped open. “You don’t even know me.”
Her nail dragged around the back of the chair.
“I know from your own lips that you are a murderer, from your actions,” she waved a hand to the barrier spell, “that you are a liar. I know more of you than you know of me, so, I shall ask you again: why would I talk to evil creatures who kill?”
She fixed him in the stare that had once been labelled unsettling. The weight of her disapproval transferred to him. She could see the search for words, chosen and discarded and chosen again.
Outside, beyond the closed door, twigs broke beneath the weight of a great beast.
The click of the front door distracted her and she broke her glare to turn.
A second man entered, gaze fixed on the open book in his hands. He sensed them staring and looked up.
“Anything yet?” His eyes watched her with open curiosity.
“Just some light judgement…” he stood behind her, but she paid him no mind, drawn to the newcomer by the strength of his loss.
“You’re a dryad, right?” Wonder laced his voice. “The living spirit of a tree?”
“You figured that out fast.”
“You said tree like, and that didn’t leave many options,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off of her. “You are a dryad, right?”
Stunned, she could do nothing but nod.
He looked to the book in his hands, tracing a fine line of text as he read.
“It says here that, uh, dryads were gentle creatures who lived among humans.”
Intrigued, she approached the curve of flowers and tilted her head.
He looked her in the eye; sincerity dripped from his tone.
“We’re not your enemy.”
She frowned, searching his words for the trick.
“We’re just looking for answers.”
“Humans are known to lie.” She shook her head. The first man’s scoff set her teeth on edge.
“So are monsters.”
She glared over her shoulder before turning her attention back. Against her better judgement she wanted to trust him.
“There is a man I cherish named Oliver. If you bring him to me, I will believe you to be trustworthy,” she shot another glare over her shoulder, “or what passes for it among your species.” She faced forward again. “Only then will I answer your questions.”
“Woah, woah, woah,” he waved a hand. “We’re not negotiating, right, Ric?”
Despite the dissent behind her she could tell this Ric was considering it. He wanted answers about the knife more than he wanted to distrust her. The audible gulp belayed his anxiety as he shut his book.
“Uh, what should we tell this Oliver?”
She reached up, mindful of the vines and twigs on her hands, and yanked a necklace. Candle light flickers on the simple gold ring at the end of the chain — her sole source of light in the dark.
“This ring belonged to him. If you show it to him he will come.” She relinquished the ring into his hand. “I will give you no further answers until he does.”
The first man, her captor, looked her up and down. “What if we don’t take the deal?”
“Trees are patient,” she sat in the wooden chair and folded her legs. Her gaze turned to the darkened window. “Human’s are not.”
++++
He felt like he had barely closed his eyes when the knocking started. He glared at her alarm clock in the dim room. Truthfully, nine o’clock wasn’t late for visitors, but anyone who would visit knew they had taken the overnight guard shift and hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours.
Not a big deal for him, but he doubted he was the one they wanted.
He dressed quickly and raced down the stairs.
Kol’s scowl clouded over when he yanked open the door and came face to face with the librarian; sans knife.
“Please don’t tell me you lost it to the newest creature.” Metal warped under his grip.
“Worse,” Dorian fished a simple gold chain from his pocket. “Ric has made the executive decision to negotiate with a monster.”
His heart beat fast with excitement.
“You’ve got one that talks?”
“A dryad; she refuses to say anything until we find some guy named Oliver. The ring belonged to him.” He passed the chain to Kol who examined the gold band. “I thought Bonnie could do a quick locater spell."
“For her sake I hope this Oliver is a vampire. The ring is at least four hundred years old. Come on in; I’ll attempt to wake up Bonnie.”
“Attempt?” Dorian shut the door behind him.
“Once she hits REM sleep nothing can wake her.”
Kol took the stairs two at a time, slipped into the bedroom and perched on the side of the bed. Sweeping her hair away, he bent until his lips brushed the shell of her ear.
“Bonnie.”
She hummed, hugging her pillow tighter and protesting each call of her name with groans, but after a few seconds she managed to crack one eye open.
“S’not how you’re s’posed to wake me up.”
“Sorry, love.” He sat back with a chuckle. “Dorian’s here for a spell.”
“What kind of spell?” She pushed up, yawning, blankets pooling around her hips.
“A locator spell,” he handed her the oversized sweater from the armchair, “but I think astral projection will suit our needs better.”
He smiled when she pulled on her sweater and groped blindly for the neck.
“You could pull him here for a short while, and then send him on his way.”
“Why am I bringing some guy here?” She covered her mouth, yawning.
Tall, strong men, always carrying their weight in each heavy stride.
Hunters, accustomed to silencing their feet; doing so without thought, but still always making some noise.
Weight had to be distributed somewhere.
Yet in their efforts to let her rest, they never made a sound.
She wished they wouldn't, finding the silence deafening.
She couldn't remember the last time she had a full night's sleep.
Harsh whispers floated around her, forming meaningless until a low voice snapped near her ear.
"Quiet, you'll wake Elena!"
"I am already awake," she mumbled, eyes cracking open enough to see them.
"Did we wake you darling?" He brushed her hair from her face.
"No," she smiled sheepishly, "I have been awake for some time."
"You should be resting," he admonished, but there was no real bite to his words.
"I tried," she rolled onto her back, "but rest is difficult when you are being battered from the inside." She cradled her swollen stomach as the ship swayed and a series of hard kicks reached her ribs. "I don't think she likes the storm very much."
From the corner of her eye she watched his siblings move to the other end of the ship.
She appreciated the illusion of privacy, but knew they could still hear.
Rain pattered overhead. She saw where it clung to his hair and dripped from his nose. His long fingers moved aside the heavy cloak someone placed over her body during her light slumber. With a jolt she realized the fabric was dry, as dry as could be after months at sea.
She squinted up at what was not the rolling clouds of the raging storm. All of her manipulation had only succeeded in quailing the lightning.
He covered her stomach and she looked down. The swell was huge and prominent on her small frame. Under the weight of his palm the kicking slowed; the babe twirled, rolling toward him.
"She?" He smoothed down her dress.
Elena shrugged, tilting her head; a smile played over her pink lips.
"Mother's intuition," she covered his hand, "never argue with it."
"Very well, darling," he chuckled, kissing her cheek. "She seems to have calmed down." He nodded to her belly.
"She adores her father," her eyes darted to the side. The faint outline of a body shifted beyond the curtain of water. She pushed up on her elbows and snapped: "get under here before you are soaked to the bone!"
"Too late," Nik smirked, ducking under the crude roof created by the spare sail.
"Honestly," she sat up, scoffing, "I know you were all taught better than to stand around in the rain. You'll be down sick."
"I don't think that's a problem anymore, love," Rebekah dropped in a heap near her bed. She drew her knees to her chest and rested her chin on crossed arms. "You're the only one who needs to worry about falling ill."
"With the way you all fuss over me that is unlikely to happen." She sat up; the cloak fell about her waist. The babe giving indignant kicks at the change in position.
"We are allowed to fuss, sister," Elijah raked his wet hair from his eyes.
"You are the most precious cargo aboard this cursed ship," Finn stared out at the rain.
Kol adjusted the cloak, lifting it to wrap around her slim shoulders.
"Are you hungry, my love?" He took her hands, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.
She thought of the dwindling food supplies and shook her head. They would run out soon. All ready the fruit and vegetables were turning. that didn't present a problem for her, but she hated using magic in front of him. It pained him to view what he had lost, though he would never say it.
"I am fine for now," she squeezed his hand. The babe kicked and her stomach grumbled in a clear betrayal of her words.
"You are a terrible liar," Elijah smirked. "It is simply not in your nature to be deceitful."
"Perhaps I would get away with it if this child ever slept," she sighed. Her eyes turned toward her stomach. "You have yet to see the world, but already you take after your father; up to no good at all hours of the day and night."
"She will meet the world sooner then you can imagine," Rebekah smiled. "You can teach her then, though I don't know how much luck you will have."
"Not much," Nik smirked, passing Elena an apple, "the child is also Kol's offspring after all, and there are only so many behaviours you can correct."
"It's so nice to be surrounded by my loving family," Kol grumbled.
"This is what happens when you were a mischievous child," Elena giggled. She ran her hand over the mottled skin turning the fruit a radiant red. She bent forward and kissed his cheek; his face shifted under her lips as he fought away his smile.
She leaned back lifting the fruit, prepared to sink her teeth into the apple. She had barely pierced the skin when the ship lurched.
She pitched forward, falling into Kol's open arms. He held her tight as the ship was buffeted by a powerful wind and tipped precariously to the side. They rocked back and forth for a nerve-wracking minute that turned into two; when she was certain they were going to fall over the edge it stopped.
She tipped her chin up, saw his other arm extended holding the edge the ship, and then looked down. His siblings had moved, tossing anything and everything that might have come her way to the side.
She was the first to break the silence. She knew she would have to be they were all looking at her, waiting for her to say that she was all right, the babe was alright, that nothing had harmed her.
"What was that?" Juice from the apple dripped into her hand, rolling down her fingers from the half-moon cuts her nails had left.
The wind pushed them again and the ship creaked, groaning under the assault.
Nik secured the crate he had stopped from banging into her legs and stood up carefully. He placed his feet down only after ensuring his weight would not turn them over; the possibility was high given the angle of the ship.
The journey lasted an age that left bruises on the apple and Kol's arm where she gripped him. Her entire body trembled with the effort to remain perfectly still when the icy water broke over the side of the ship and soaked through the cloak.
"Hold on, love," Kol pressed a quick kiss to the top of her wet hair.
"You need not tell me twice," she offered a weak laugh, shifting her grip on his forearm.
"Nik," he called out, his brother had been silent for too long, "what is going on?"
His voice came back full of quiet wonder.
"Come out," he lifted the edge of the sail, "it's safe."
"This hardly feels safe," Finn scoffed. The overbearing smell of salt water filled his senses.
"It is, I swear it," Nik ducked inside. He turned his eyes on her and Kol. "The water can't be higher than Elena's knees."
"We are in the middle of the sea," Rebekah frowned.
"It would appear the storm has moved us off course," Nik grinned. "We're caught on some rocks, but land is close. Much longer and we might have run aground."
Everyone moved at once, leaving Kol and Elena in place. The ship rocked nearly knocking them over the side.
He never utilized his newfound speed around her, but he did then, standing and lifting her into his arms.
She grasped the back of his neck and turned her head to follow his wide eyed stare. Through the pouring rain she saw it: a towering rise of slate grey which she could only take to be a tall hill. Her breath caught in her lungs.
Only Rebekah remained on the deck with them.
Through the heavy downpour of water, she heard the unmistakable call of his brothers as they beckoned the three of them to the shore.
Kol shared a look with his sister before smiling at his wife and jumping from the ship with her in his arms.
~oOo~
The ground shifted underfoot, softened by torrential rainfall in such close proximity to the sea. Salt stuck to every inch of her skin, stiffened her clothes and assaulted her senses as it had every day since fleeing their home.
Grey mist stretched as far as the eye could see in any direction, yet her shoulders relaxed for underneath each dreary feature lurked the rich smell of tilled soil and a tantalizing aroma of pine.
It was neither safe nor permanent, but it was land. For the first time in months she stood perfectly still and tipped her head up, letting the light rain wash the tension from her body until she shivered in the cold.
Arms wrapped around her body from behind. She leaned into the hard chest, humming softly.
"You can't stand out in the rain," he kissed the juncture where her neck met her shoulder.
"I'd rather not lie on the wet ground," she covered his hands, holding them in place on her stomach.
"You will not sleep on the ground this night, wife."
"Where, pray tell, shall I lay my head," she glanced at him through her lashes and snuggled further into his arms. "You're warm."
She adored his touch, but his skin had been cold as ice and twice as pale for weeks — until that moment; in the circle of his arms she sat near a smouldering fire. Turning, she struggled to link her hands behind his head as the swell of her stomach separated them.
She huffed.
"I've a place in mind," he chuckled. Ducking his head he caught her lips in a quick kiss that turned her frown to a smile. "Nik stumbled across an abandoned farm."
"Abandoned?" She tilted her head.
"Completely deserted," he nodded, "with a sign warning away any who would settle."
"He could read the message?" She blinked.
"Yes, darling," he stepped back and took her hand, leading her up a path. The ground rose at a gentle incline. "It was a runic script that warned of a great flying beast."
"A dreki?" She lifted the hem of her skirt.
"The family that lived there appears to have fled in a hurry," he cleared his throat, gaze drifting towards the fog.
An acrid smell reached her nose the further they travelled, until Kol turned them away from and moved towards clear air where the fog began to lift.
She glanced down at his warm hand with its healthy glow.
Had the family escaped the rain of fire? Had they perished in it, or had they met a more recent, far more grisly end?
"Is there a dreki around, Kol?" She shivered. The cold weather clung to her body; she longed for a fire, but not one created by such a creature.
"Elijah and Finn are scouting the area for safety," he slowed his steps as the ground sloped down, "but we shall be safe for tonight and with any luck until this weather passes."
"Nik and Rebekah?" She squinted at the tall structure as it came into focus. From inside she heard movement.
"Cleaning up," he grinned, stepping over the threshold.
She followed him, taking a deep breath as she left the damp behind.
The small house held two rooms. In the first Niklaus knelt and stoked a fire; he glanced towards them and nodded as Kol led her through the entry and into the second.
The room held a simple bed and a handful of chests. Most of the cases were empty, but one held fabric that Rebekah picked through.
"There you are," she straightened up. "You must have wandered off."
"I assure you, Rebekah," she smiled, "I did not move. I believe you have forgotten how fast you run these days." Her eyes flickered to Rebekah's body; the blue dress she had worn was gone, replaced with a white one.
"I've laid out some clothes for you," she nodded to the bed, "you need to get out of that wet fabric and warm up straight away."
"Yes, mother," Elena smirked.
"How adorable," she rolled her eyes. "Get changed before you and my niece are down sick." Rebekah slammed the trunk closed and was gone.
She moved her braid over her shoulder, presenting her back to her husband. His long fingers made quick work of the wet strings and helped her peel the sleeves away. She finished the job, stepping out of the material and shivering as her smooth skin met the air.
She bent slightly, reaching for the dark blue dress. The soft material caressed her skin, nearly slipping from her hands when she straightened up and caught his lingering gaze; heat spread through her veins.
"What are you staring at?" She cocked an eyebrow.
"My beautiful wife, of course," his grin held a sunny cheerfulness she had not seen in so long.
She lowered her eyes to where her breasts sat heavy on her pregnant belly; a dark mark stained her skin.
He reached out, placing his hands on either side of her belly and bent to kiss her cheek before dropping to his knees in front of her.
Her body came to attention, shifting a few inches closer but he pressed his lips to her swollen stomach. A warm glow flowed through her as he whispered to their unborn babe; his voice shifted into a low song and she giggled. His breath tickled.
"Kol?" She held the dress in one hand and smoothed back his hair with the other.
"Hmm?" He glanced up, meeting her laughing eyes.
"As sweet as this is, and as loathe as I am to interrupt," she smiled, "I'm very cold." A shiver raced down her spine.
He straightened up and tightened the laces of her dress after she pulled it on. A fur blanket had been left behind and he wrapped it around her shoulders before leading her back out to the fire.
Elena sat on a low stool and watched as Rebekah plucked feathers from a small bird. The creature had a brown head, speckled wings, and a white belly.
"What is that?" She blinked.
"I've no idea," Rebekah shrugged. "I found it beyond the fence. Perhaps some form of chicken."
"I've never seen a chicken like that," Elena leaned forward. Heat from the fire reached her face and spread through her veins slowly.
"Probably poisonous," Nik snickered.
"Then you can have the first bite," she flicked a speckled feather at him.
"Why me?" He blew the feather away.
"Better you then Elena," Rebekah shrugged. She returned to her task.
The feathers piled up at a steady pace. Every once in a while when she wasn't looking Kol would pluck a few from the floor and stick them in Rebekah's hair. He had managed to slip twelve into the blonde strands by the time Finn and Elijah returned to their borrowed house.
She wondered how long they would rest before continuing their frantic run. With no threshold keeping her family out she knew the family who had lived there were indeed dead.
That didn't mean that they could go unnoticed forever. The best they could hope for was a short reprieve and that Mikael had been blown off course in the storm; an unlikely scenario for the experienced sailor.
"Kol," Elijah sighed, "what are you doing?"
Elena focused, following Elijah's gaze to the mess her husband had made of his sister's hair. A giggle bubbled up in her throat.
Rebekah turned towards Elijah and dislodged several feathers. She stared at them as they fell, fluttering to the ground. Slowly, her hand reached behind her head and made contact with the soft feathers.
She shrieked.
Elena suspected the only thing saving Kol from being tackled was her presence at his side. She covered her mouth but her mirth still leaked into her tone.
"He's proving that our child will reach maturity long before he does."
~oOo~
Three days trickled by with all the speed of a slow moving stream; all remained quiet.
She fell into a routine; in the long run she believed it pointless, but such was her nature when peace reigned.
In the morning she busied herself mending torn clothes and tidying their temporary home.
Afternoons passed in a blur of exploration for mid-winter herbs that might prove useful in the coming months; she glided over the gentle hills with a member of her family at her side or following her path.
Signs of a dreki remained well hidden, yet they were vigilant in watching her.
If not for the constant guard and the way they would each avoid her gaze after a prolonged absence she might have fooled herself into thinking they were safe.
They were not safe.
They would never be safe, so she explored.
She explored and waited for an announcement that it was time to run.
On the fourth afternoon the family went hunting and Rebekah accompanied her brothers; silently informing Elena that they were not seeking game. It seemed that every other day they required sustenance.
Only Finn remained behind.
She often struggled not to think of the thirty souls they had fled the New World with. In the beginning their deaths had been explained by drunken tumbles overboard in the dead of night, but as the numbers dwindled she had felt their anger and fear, as well as their covetous stares as she was left unharmed. She had remained healthy and unafraid while her belly grew.
She rested a hand on the swell and looked out over the field. Finn knelt in the snow with a handful of nails between his teeth and a hammer in hand.
"Why are you repairing that fence?" A tiny limb protruded and raised a bump beneath her skin; she rubbed it. "There are no animals to pen."
"I can think of several beasts in need of a cage," he mumbled. A few quick hits secured the board.
"Where are these beasts, brother?" She spun in a circle, eyes widened in feigned horror. "I have never seen one, let alone several. Are they behind me?"
She gasped, looking over her shoulder.
Finn chuckled, but his smile failed to reach his eyes. He took the final nail from his mouth and used it to point to her.
"A person could be lunging down on you with a knife, sister, and you would see something good in them."
"Do not mistake my nature for naivety, Finn," she approached, curling her fingers around his shoulder. "I can recognize the wicked intent of a person better than most, so know that when I see a glimmer of virtue in the heart of anyone it is because it is there."
She saw his eyes shimmer and turned to the fence to take attention from him.
"Why repair the fence, Finn?"
When he spoke his voice was thicker than normal.
"One day a family may live here again, or relations will lay claim to this place," he fingered a knot in the worn wood. "I should like to repay the hospitality they have unwittingly provided us."
"How very kind of you," she smiled.
He was silent for a moment before clearing his throat.
"My task will take some time, Elena, and I'm sure watching will bore you," he turned the hammer over in his hand. "I'm certain there remain parts of the farm you have yet to uncover."
She took one look at his nearly finished job and smiled her soft smile.
"Yes," she nodded, "I think I shall explore the eastern side of the house."
She turned and waddled away, granting him the private moment he was too proud to ask for.
The layer of snow crunched beneath her shoes. Flurries spiralled from the heavens to settle in her dark hair. She circled the house, drawing her shawl tighter over her shoulders.
The house she at first thought built into the side of the hill was actually pressed against it with only a narrow passage in between. She slipped into the space.
The snow came down a little faster behind her.
Through the shadows she saw something unusual and approached it until she ran her fingertips over the wood of a door built into the hillside. She hesitated, considered getting Finn, and came to a decision.
He was close enough to hear her cry out.
She pushed and the door swung inward on silent hinges. Through the narrow beam of weak light she spotted a candle; it ignited with a thought.
She stepped into the flickering light and felt the air rush from her lungs.
The door led to a narrow room carved into the earth. Candlelight flickered over the shelves pressed to the packed earth of the walls on either side of her body.
It was dry and as the heavy door drifted shut she discovered it was pleasantly warm compared to the outside; warm, but cool enough to act as cold storage, for that was what she had found.
Baskets and bottles lines the shelves. She lifted the candle and examined the contents: pickled vegetables, dried fruit, nuts, grains, salted meat and a hearty supply of root vegetables. The store would have fed a family of five well during the cold winter months.
The clothes had been hastily packed and coated in a heavy layer of grime; most of the neglected cleaning had been tidied before Kol had brought her to the house, but she had found hidden corners and grimy pots to clean.
An abandoned farm, a store full of food and a home covered in dust.
"What happened here?" Her whisper bounced back from the walls.
Had the family fled the dreki or had they run from something else? Why would they have left behind so much food?
There were areas where baskets and jars had been taken, leaving behind a lower pattern of dust. They had taken a small supply of food; she could only assume that they had perished before returning.
She located an empty basket used for transport and pulled down a selection of jars until it was too heavy to lift. She opened the door, blew out the candle and beckoned with her hand; the basket slid out into the snow. She followed behind and used magic to levitate it through the narrow pass until she came to a stop in the open air.
The snow slanted before her in an impenetrable wall. She hugged the side of the house, using her foot to push the basket in front of her until she found the door and stumbled inside.
Without the snow blinding her she had the confidence and concentration to use magic again, lifting the basket with her mind and depositing it on one of the benches lining the longhouse.
"Finn," she called, "are you in here?"
She received no response and shrugged. He must have still been outside; probably staring at the falling snow.
Her attention turned to the fire pit. She ignited the logs with fire and fed a few more to the flames before settling to her task.
She methodically laid out the contents of the basket, peeling and cutting and adding them to a clean pot. She hummed as she worked until she felt warm from head to toe.
The bubbling concoction filled the house with a rich combination of smells and by the time the door swung inwards she was tidying up her mess and nibbling on dried strawberries. She turned towards the startled cry of her name, freezing with a strawberry halfway to her mouth.
"What?" A line appeared between her brows. Her eyes flickered over her husband's haggard appearance.
"Where have you been?" Kol crossed the dark room in the blink of an eye. His hands patted down her arms.
"Here?" She frowned, catching his hands and meeting his frantic eyes. "What is going on?" She brushed some snow from his hair before the heat could melt it.
"We've been out looking for you," his eyes narrowed. "Finn said he couldn't find you when the snow fell. And you've been here?"
"Yes," she nodded. Her eyes flickered to the door as the rest of their family poured in. "I've been right here, cooking."
Elena let go of his sleeve to point at the bubbling stew.
"Dinner is ready."
"You've been here," Finn stared at her with wide eyes. "You were not inside when I checked."
"Then you must have checked while I was still in the storeroom," she reasoned. "I found it between the house and the hill, and I've been here cooking ever since." She glanced around at his siblings. "Were you all out traipsing through the snow to try and find me?"
"We thought you were lost," Rebekah crossed her arms. "You've got a habit of exploring."
"In my defence I did tell Finn I'd be on the eastern side of the house," she waved with the dried strawberry. "I couldn't exactly see the snow coming down while I was inside. Should I have ventured outside to find you all after I felt my way back to the door?"
"She's got a point," Elijah cleared his throat. "We would have never found her if she'd left."
"We might have," Niklaus glanced towards the still open door, "but she would have been covered in a layer of snow."
Elena followed his eyes, but she failed to see beyond the white curtain. A rush of frozen air whistled inside, stirred the dancing flames and sent a shiver down her spine. The layer of sweat she had worked up around the fire cooled.
"Would one of you mind sealing the house?" She rubbed her hands together. "You're letting the warmth escape."
Finn moved to bar the door and she relaxed, shifting back on her heels. Her hands moved, located the bowls and reached into the swirling smoke to ladle the bubbling stew into servings.
"Who's hungry?" She passed the first bowl to her husband. He caught it between cold hands when she gave him no other option; it was either catch the bowl or spill on the floor. Smoke tickled the back of her throat and she sneezed into the crook of her elbow.
"Let me," Rebekah shooed her back into a stool.
"I'm perfectly capable of doing this," she protested.
"You've been on your feet for hours, darling," Kol returned the first bowl to her hands along with a spoon.
Once she had settled in she realized how weary she was. An ache had settled in her lower back and her feet. She hadn't stood for so long in a while and the added weight wore her out quickly, so she settled on her perch and tucked into the bowl of stew.
After dinner they sat around the hearth and listened to the roaring wind and crackling flames. She folded her hands on her stomach, leaned over slightly and rested her weight against Kol, letting her eyes droop shut as his arm settled around her waist. Quiet conversation floated around her.
"How far along is she?" Rebekah whispered to her left.
"I'm not asleep, Bekah," she mumbled without opening her eyes.
"Oh," she sounded chagrined, but recovered and rephrased her question to be directed to her. "When should we expect this child to join the world?"
Elena's chest rose and fell with each deep breath in and out. She ran her palm over her stomach and considered fibbing, but after Henrik's accidental walk in the entire family knew that she and Kol had been intimate prior to the wedding.
"She should arrive by the beginning of Skerpla," she sighed, "after the snow has melted and the flowers have sprung up. Why do you ask? What month is it, anyway? I've lost track."
"I would think that you were the only one keeping track of the passage of time," Niklaus snickered from across the room. "If I've kept track of the days correctly then it is góa."
"That doesn't leave much time," Rebekah hummed, "only four months. We should find somewhere to settle for a time. You cannot deliver on the run."
"We cannot stay here," Elijah cut in. "It is far too close to the sea and the first place father would look if he were to land on the shore."
"We can't move far either," Rebekah snapped. "Look at her, Elijah," she waved with her hand.
"I can keep up," Elena opened her eyes and slowly shifted into an upright position.
"Darling," Kol rubbed her back. "Please do not take this the wrong way, but you can't even stand up."
"I can too," she turned to glare out of the corner of her eye.
"I would love to see you try," he smirked.
His hand moved away and her eyes narrowed. She moved her feet back from the hearth, planted them beneath her body and stood up, raising three inches before promptly losing her balance and falling sideways into Kol's open arms.
She saw the shaking shoulders of their family. Her muscles tensed as her annoyance flared and blood rushed to her cheeks.
"The first person to comment will wake up tomorrow covered in warts," she huffed, glad of the semidarkness that hid the flush on her face.
"Rebekah is right," Kol schooled his features into a stoic expression, but the mirth still shone in his eyes. He sobered quickly after that. "Elijah is correct as well. You need to be somewhere soon, somewhere that we can stay still at least for a short time."
"How close are we to the sea, really?" Niklaus glanced around.
"Elena was able to walk here through the snows," Finn stared at the fire. "Only a short walk to the north and you can see the crashing waves."
She tucked her long hair behind her ears. Her chest ached at the thought of walking through the cold winter days in search of shelter.
"We can start looking once the snow stops," Elijah suggested. "Elena should remain here until something suitable can be found further inland. Should father land she is the only one of us he will not harm on sight."
"I'll stay with you," Rebekah squeezed her hand. "Just let me know when you're exploring hidden storerooms."
"Will any of you ever let me live that down?" Elena rolled her eyes.
"Not in this lifetime, darling," Kol kissed her temple.
~oOo~
They had been gone for two days when the temperature took a drastic drop, but she wasn't worried about them. They would be fine.
She rolled onto her side and adjusted the pillow beneath her head. A sheepskin blanket softened the wooden bench, but it was still hard under her body; the bed would have been a better choice for comfort, but the benches ran either side of the long house and sat close enough that she could feel the heat of the fire.
The house was still cold.
She opened her eyes and watched the crackling fire. Flames licked up the sides of a fresh log, devouring it for added warmth. A second and third log were added; the smell of burning cedar reminded her of home and brisk fall evenings, but even in the New World winters were not this cold. The dead of winter in their former village would have been preferred to the one of the Old World.
The bed had been shared with Kol since they arrived at the abandoned farm, but only now that he was gone did she realize why he always retired with her. They required less sleep than they had before their mother's spell, and while Kol always came to lie with her eventually, he had always remained awake longer. He had joined her immediately so she would have his body heat; it had been like having a low fire in bed with her.
They didn't feel the cold as strong as she did.
"Rebekah?"
She paused in stoking the fire, mid poke. Her sapphire blue eyes landed on Elena.
"I thought you were asleep," she murmured.
"I'm experiencing difficulty with that task," Elena admitted. She shifted her curls back from her face, shivering as her icy fingers brushed her cheek. "I'm rather cold."
"I fear that if I put more wood on the fire you shall be unable to breathe for the smoke," she nibbled her bottom lip. The smoke swirled in thick patterns toward the ceiling.
"Would you lay with me?" She shifted on the wide bench to make room. "I know the cold weather no longer bothers you but it can't be comfortable either."
Rebekah gave the fire a final poke and moved away. She quickly gathered her pillow from the bench beside Elena's along with the heavy blanket and curled onto the sheepskin lining beside the brunette. Her creamy skin still held the heat of the fire.
Elena shifted a little closer so the warmth would leech from Rebekah to her. The baby chose that moment to roll over.
Rebekah stiffened.
"Sorry," she mumbled, "am I crowding you?"
Her reply came back tight.
"No, it's fine."
"Then why are you lying like I've strapped you to the bench?" Elena cocked an eyebrow.
"Am I?" Rebekah laughed; it was a soft broken sound. She relaxed marginally and rolled toward Elena so she could adjust the second blanket and cover the brunette with it. Her flat abdomen pushed against Elena's and the baby pushed back.
"She's been doing that lately," Elena murmured, "whenever there is any pressure on her."
"She's learning to fight back early," Rebekah smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"What's wrong, Bekah?" Elena lifted her hand to place on Rebekah's arm. She cradled her elbow and watched the shadows on her soft features. She felt thin fingers on her stomach; each barely there touch garnered a tiny nudge from inside.
The blue eyes slid nearly closed, and in the stillness she heard a deep breath that she thought was meant to be relaxing but it failed to work because Rebekah's voice came out in a shaking whisper.
"I… I feel a little envious," she drew patterns over Elena's stomach.
"You'll have a little one of your own running around one day," Elena smiled, "if I can finally convince your brothers to stop interfering with anyone who offers suite."
In the flickering orange light a single tear slipped from Rebekah's eye, rolled over the bridge of her nose and dripped onto the pillow. She shook her head and more tears fell free.
"No…" she sniffled, "… I won't."
"Don't say that," Elena propped herself up on her elbow and shifted, gathering the sobbing blonde into her arms.
"It's true…" Rebekah shook her head. "They haven't noticed yet – what mother did – but I have. I last bled just after Henrik passed."
She sobbed harder, great hiccupping shudders wracked her body.
"We are frozen, sister," she wrapped her arm around Elena's waist. "I am frozen… I shall never feel my child quicken. I'll never feel a life growing within me."
"I'm sorry, Rebekah," she struggled to rub her hand up and down her spine. The soft whisper wasn't meant for her ears, but she still heard the admission that brought tears to her own eyes.
"I made a terrible mistake," she buried her face in Elena's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," a tear slipped from her eye and rolled into her hair.
Slowly Rebekah drifted off to sleep and Elena found herself in a position she hadn't been in for months; she was the last one awake. Her eyes fluttered shut over the course of several long blinks until she too slipped into unconsciousness.
When they woke the next morning it was to find Kol adding a log to the fire.
"You're back," Elena croaked, stretching as much as she could on the bench.
"I am," he narrowed his eyes, examining her face, in the flare of light, "and you've been crying."
Elena felt Rebekah's pleading gaze as she stood and managed a tired smile for her husband who helped her off the bench.
"I'm pregnant," she stretched up on her toes and kissed his cheek, "I cry a lot. Where are the others?"
"Waiting for us," he held her hips. "We've found somewhere to stay still for a short time." One of his hands slid around to her naval and he bent at the waist. "Good morning, little one. Did you miss me?"
"She kicked me all night, every night," Elena smiled, "demanding to know where her father had gone."
"Well, I am right here," he straightened, pressing a slow kiss to her lips, "and I shall remain with both of you for every step of this journey."
"How far is it?" Rebekah frowned, her eyes lingered on Elena as she sized her up for a long journey.
"We should arrive in three days' time," he turned to his sister, "and there are places to rest along the way."
"Three days of walking?" Rebekah crossed her arms.
"Who said anything about walking?" Kol smirked. He led Elena to the door with Rebekah on their heels and pointed out.
She shielded her eyes against the brilliance of the rising sun and felt the air rush from her lungs. Three horses pawed at the freshly fallen snow.
"Borrowed from our new neighbours," he explained.
"Neighbours?" Rebekah's voice held a note of unease.
"Relax, sister," Kol looked over his shoulder, "they reside an hour from where we shall stay. Now," he turned back to the house, "would you prefer to pack before or after breakfast?"
He moved back into the house.
Elena caught Rebekah's eyes; she shook her head after a beat and Elena nodded in understanding. Their midnight conversation was to remain between them, as the subject had since the previous spring.
~oOo~
How easy, she often mused, to lose track of the days. Time raced by, flying around them with the speed of the birds until the sun gained a weak warmth to begin chasing away the bone chilling cold of winter.
Soon they would see grass.
She held the edges of her shawl closed and stepped outside. With any luck she could gather some firewood before anyone caught her and insisted on completing the task.
She rounded the corner of the small farm house and moved towards the tiny shelter someone had built to protect stored firewood. She moved aside the heavy covering and stepped inside. There was a healthy supply of wood on her left and a length of cloth covering something to the right. Her toe caught the edge on the way past and the material slipped to the ground with a soft thump. She turned back to replace it and froze.
A sturdy box had been pieced together with wood and carved with images of Frigg, Heimdall, Freya and Balder. Sheepskin had been tacked to the inside, lining the rough edges; she could see where the material could be worked free for cleaning.
"You weren't meant to see that yet," strong arms wrapped around her from behind.
A warm glow flowed through her. She wondered how long he had been working on it.
"Where's Nik?" She smoothed her palms over his wrists. "I should like to thank him for the beautiful carvings."
"How do you know I am not responsible for that?" He rested his chin on her shoulder.
"I love you, Kol," Elena tilted her head and threaded her fingers through his, "but you would surround our child with images of Loki."
"And I have no artistic talent to speak of," he chuckled.
"That too," she turned, catching his laugh in a soft kiss.
The chaste kiss sent the pit of her stomach into a wild swirl. She twisted slightly and trailed her fingers over the length of his arm to cup his neck. Her tongue traced the seam of his lips. The soft touch of his hand sent a warm shiver down her spine.
Her heartbeat skyrocketed, beating in her throat. She backed off for a second to catch her breath and gasped when his mouth covered hers hungrily to ravish her.
He pulled her to him, holding her tight and pressing her into the tall pile of wood.
She arched against him; her skin tingled deliciously wherever their bodies met even through the thick layers of clothes.
The harsh uneven rhythm of her breathing filled the small space as she felt the heady sensation of his lips against her neck, but as the flame in her blood rose to a frenzy he stopped.
His heavy breath rushed over her flushed skin, and she knew what she would see if he moved away from her.
"Kol?" Her hand slid to the back of his neck. Her body craved his touch, but she already knew she was destined for disappointment. "Are you alright?"
"I…" his voice sounded strained. "You smell…" he held his breath, but the scent hung heavy in the small shelter; he could almost taste it. His thumbs pressed into her hips; the last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone and have her feel rejected. "It's so close in here," he murmured, finally.
"Go, get some air," she lowered her hand, forming a wide arc down his back and around to his waist.
He was gone before she had finished speaking. She shivered in the rush of cold air, adjusted her shawl and took a deep breath.
She stepped outside and nearly collided with Niklaus.
"Sorry," she gasped, pressing her hand to her heart.
"Should I not be the one apologizing to you?" He laughed. "I do have superior senses after all. Where are you off to in such a hurry?"
"I was looking for you," she smirked. It wasn't a complete lie. "I saw the carvings and wanted to thank you; they're beautiful, Nik."
"You're welcome," he smirked, "and lucky. Kol was going to try his hand, but I got there in time."
"You haven't seen him have you?" She looked around the empty farm.
"You may want to give him a moment, love," he suggested, ducking into the shelter for firewood. "He's likely still recovering."
"Recovering," she tilted her head.
"I can guess what you were doing," Niklaus murmured, "and you shouldn't take him running off personally."
"It's hard not to, sometimes," she shrugged and took some of the wood from his hands. She didn't fully comprehend their new lives, but she understood that it was a struggle to spend so much time around her. If she weren't family she might have found herself as prey.
"It grows difficult to remain in your presence during…" he trailed off; colour stained his cheeks. "We can smell blood when it hasn't been spilled, and the further you progress with your pregnancy the stronger the scent becomes; it's as though you have more blood than usual."
"I hope you're not about to tell me he's never going to touch me again," she sighed. Her eyes widened when she realized just who she was talking to; it was one thing when it was Rebekah. "Sorry," she bit her bottom lip.
"It's fine, love," he cleared his throat. "I'm sure things will go back to… normal… after the baby comes."
"Thank you, Nik, but you don't have to do that," she held the wood tight to her chest. "I never should have brought it up."
"You need to talk about it with someone," he moved in front of her to open the door.
~oOo~
The further she progressed in her pregnancy the worse her need to move became. An itch took route in her feet. She could think of many activities that might have aided her predicament and soothed the burn beneath her skin, but such things were impossible; if Kol's behaviour hadn't done so then Nik had made that clear with his confession.
Walking was a close second.
"Wherever do you find your energy, darling?" He chuckled.
"There's a whole new country to explore," she threw out her arms, spinning in a wide circle, "and I want to see as much as I can before I'm confined to the house."
"You could never be confined," he caught her hands, "there is far too much fire in you."
"Be that as it may," she tipped her head back, smiling up at him, "I'll not be able to venture far after the baby arrives; at least not right away."
"Then I suppose we shall walk," he bent, kissing her cheek. "How much farther today, my love?"
"We haven't gone that far, have we?" She frowned. Her eyes glanced back to their tracks through the fine powder of snow, stretching in a line far beyond where her vision could see.
"We are nearly to the town," he nodded ahead.
"How close?" She tilted her head, listening to the distant whisper of voices that she had failed to notice.
"A further ten minutes," water dripped from an overhanging branch into his hair.
She reached up and brushed the moisture away. Standing still the cool air rushed through her body and she shivered.
"Perhaps we should turn back," he rubbed her upper arms, "so you may warm up by the fire."
"I don't want to go back yet," she sighed, "it grows so dreary inside."
"You are freezing, Elena," he murmured.
"I'm chilly, not freezing," she smirked, wrapping her arms around his neck, "and there are many other ways to warm up beyond a fire."
"Elena…" he warned.
"I know," she tilted her head, "just hold me."
"That might be a problem," he sighed, but there was a twinkle in his eye, "for when I hold you, I have this uncontrollable desire to kiss you."
"I don't think a kiss needs to be controlled," she cocked an eyebrow.
"Perhaps not a single kiss," his arms snaked around her waist, "but a single kiss rarely remains alone; it is always followed by a second and a third."
"When did kissing your wife become a problem?" Her fingers played with the thick hair at the back of his neck, twisting a heavy lock around and around to create a curl.
She recognized the possibility that she was approaching dangerous territory, but she couldn't help teasing him.
"You know exactly when," his eyes darkened, before lightening again when her smile dropped. "Very well, darling," he sighed, feigning exasperation.
"Am I about to receive a kiss?" She smirked as hope rose in her throat and shone in her eyes.
"Just one," he warned, not believing his own warning for a second.
"As you like, husband," she murmured. Her chin tipped up as he leaned down, meeting her halfway in a chaste kiss.
Heat, white and hot, raced from her lips to her toes.
Slim fingers gripped his hair, holding him in place. He had declared a single kiss, but he had failed to set a time limit on it.
"Darling," he mumbled.
"Still one," she breathed without moving her lips away and knowing he understood her perfectly. A warm chuckle was her only response.
He gave in to the desire coursing through him and swept his tongue along the seam between her lips, seeking entrance that she readily gave and exploring the familiar opening of her mouth. She warmed against him and when her heart began to race he held his breath, unwilling to end the kiss just yet; he held his breath until he couldn't any longer and was forced to inhale.
The richness of her blood hit him, mouth-watering and everywhere.
He backed away and closed his eyes. Instinctively, her body followed before she began to correct her weight.
"I'm," she panted, placing one foot behind her, "really starting to…" she shifted her weight, lost her balance and fell with a small shriek.
"Elena," he cried, reaching out, but his internal struggle slowed his reflexes and she landed on the ground.
The force of the impact stunned her and for a moment she could only look up at him with a numb expression on her face. Thoughts of her dislike for his mother flew from her head as she began to first giggle and then laugh, bringing her hands down to the soft pile of snow that had broken her fall.
"I am alright," she wheezed, waving his hands away. For the first time in months nobody had caught her or held her away from anything remotely dangerous and she found it refreshing. Her bright gaze lifted and she grinned, heedless of the dark veins still wriggling below his eyes. "I am alright," she pressed her lips together.
"I should have caught you," he shook his head.
"I am not fragile, Kol," she slapped her hands down with unnecessary force. Ice dragged along her wrist, cold and white hot all at once. She hissed, winced and looked down, lifting her hand.
A thin line of crimson welled up. She watched in fascination as a single drop rolled down the tender skin of her arm, beneath the sleeve of her dress. She would need to wrap the small wound with herbs; it would be good as new by morning and if she did it soon then there would likely be no scar.
Her stubborn nature meant she wanted to stand all on her own, but her large abdomen dictated her actions and the strong need for help. She pushed herself up with her uninjured hand and without thinking reached out.
Her feet landed on the ground; the speed of the motion knocked the air from her lungs.
"Kol?" She gasped and lifted her head. Her voice trembled as she repeated his name and cut off in a strangled shriek. She knew a piercing pain, and a great lightness washing over her before her world faded to black.
~oOo~
Her head throbbed, as though Thor himself had taken up residence and started a steady rhythm with Mjolnir behind her brow. She squeezed her eyes tight, turning her head from the light that pierced the darkness of her lids; a dull ache in her neck broke into a sharp sting as her skin pulled.
"Slowly, my dear," a feminine voice, rough with age and something else, murmured at her side. "You're body has healed, but you need rest and sustenance before you'll feel truly better."
She blinked slowly, bringing the woman into focus. Long locks of dark brown hair, held back in a Northern style, draped over her shoulders to cover the arms of an indigo gown. Black eyes watched her on either side of a straight nose; there was something familiar in the woman's face but Elena couldn't quite put her finger on where she had seen the features before.
"Wh…" she croaked, closed her mouth and swallowed thickly. Her tongue felt too big for her dry mouth.
She watched as the older woman poured water into a simple goblet. The slim arm wedged its way behind Elena's back, helping to lift her into a sitting position. The goblet pressed against her lower lip and she opened her mouth to take a long sip.
After her third drink she felt strong enough to hold the cup herself and by the time she had emptied the goblet she had enough strength to prop her body against the headboard.
She cast her eyes around the room; simple wooden furniture and a crackling fire reminded her of home and the house Kol had built with the aid of his brothers.
"Where am I?" Her fingers ran over the soft fur that covered her as a blanket.
"You are in my home," the woman poured a second goblet of water, this time sprinkling herbs on the top. "Your husband brought you here yesterday. He said you were attacked in the woods… forgive me…" she perched on the side of the narrow bed, "… I've never known an animal to leave such a mark…"
Elena raised her hand, gingerly running a finger over the raised flesh on her neck. The images trickled back to her: falling, cutting her hand, and Kol.
"What happened to you, my dear?"
"I…" red eyes and sharp teeth swam in her mind's eye. "I…" a phantom bite pierced her throat. "I didn't see," she swallowed. She flattened her palm to the bruise. "You're a witch."
"I beg pardon?" Her eyes widened.
"He brought me here yesterday, but I only have a bruise…"
"You'll have a scar," she held out the goblet, "but you will be fine. The gods must have been watching over you to bring your husband to my door. There is not another witch to be found within a fortnight of travel."
"Where is he?" Elena ignored the goblet. "Where is my husband? Kol?" She called, casting her eyes into every corner of the room. "Kol?"
"He's not here…"
"Kol!" Her heart pounded in her chest. She fumbled with the coverings as they slipped through her slick fingers. "Kol Mikaelson," a sob rose in her throat, "where are you?"
"He refused to come inside," the woman reached for her arm.
"He wouldn't leave me," she shook her head. Fat tears streaked down her face as she got to her feet, swaying on her legs. "Kol?"
"Elena," his voice carried through from somewhere distant.
She shuffled towards him, toward the front of the house, but she barely made it three steps before a strong hand clamped around her elbow.
"Let me go," she tried to shake her off.
"You need to stay in bed," the older woman insisted.
"I need to see my husband," Elena trembled. An ache in her lower back chose that moment to make itself known and she cried out at the sharp pain.
Heavy furs doubled as a door, separating the main part of the house from the bedroom; a slim hand, smooth and free from the wrinkles and spots of age, pulled the curtain aside. Through the haze of the cooking fire, beyond the body of a younger woman who looked even more familiar than the older she saw the faint outline of a man on the opposite side of the threshold where he stood in the cold.
"There," the woman patted her shoulder in a matronly gesture, "you've seen him, now you need to get back in bed."
"Listen to them, please darling," Kol called over the crackling fire.
"Why are you outside?" She groaned, pressing her hand to her naval.
"Because it is safer for you away from me." She couldn't see him clearly, but his voice sounded thick.
"Come on," the younger woman urged her back. Elena liked her better; she possessed kind eyes, despite the bitter sadness that lurked in the shadows.
Elena shook her head, ready to deny everyone's requests and march straight to her husband in order to inform him of how foolish such a decision was; he had lapsed. It hadn't been his fault, and if anyone was to blame it was her. The bleeding had stopped and there was absolutely no reason for him to place a magic barrier between them.
She was ready to march, but then a sharp pain ran from her back to her front. She felt a pop followed by a burst of fluid.
When the pain passed she picked up her hem with trembling fingers and stared at the dark liquid that rolled down her ankle; more of it clung to her thighs.
"Now you definitely need to get back in bed," the older woman glanced down. Her eyes cut to the younger. "See it's done."
Elena wanted to fight back and move across the room; she had a plan and that plan involved Rebekah, but she lacked the physical strength to break the young woman's grip.
Through the rush of blood in her ear she heard the quiet strains of a conversation; the soft words remained just beyond her comprehension.
"I'm going to examine you now," the quiet voice murmured.
Elena blinked as she was eased back to the headboard. She blushed but spread her legs all the same, breathing slowly as her skirt was lifted. She lost all interest in the younger woman when the older one returned to the room, dropping the curtain in place behind her.
"Where is my husband? I want my husband."
"What a strange notion?" Her brows shot up. "Childbirth is no place for a man," she clicked her tongue.
"Where is he?" A pain tore through her again and she doubled over, gasping. She had not the energy to explain her customs; where she came from it was unheard of for a father to not be present at the birth of his child.
"He has gone to inform your family that you shall be gone for some time," she held out the forgotten goblet. "And before you can say it, he didn't leave you. He shall return in no time at all."
"He's gone?" Elena stared numbly at the cup.
"He'll be back," the young woman eased her skirt down.
"He informed me that this was your firstborn child and as such I informed him that the babe would take at least a day to make an appearance," bony fingers curled her hand around the cup. "This will help with the pain."
"He may not have that much time, aunt…" Elena glanced over her shoulder, "… her pains must have begun while she slept."
"All the more reason to drink now," her thin fingers urged Elena to drink by lifting the cup higher.
She pushed it away.
"I want my husband." She had meant for the words to be strong, but they met the air as a whimper when the pain gripped her body. Whether they had begun in her sleep or not remained irrelevant; it was too much too soon. "She needs more time."
Her sob cut off in a groan. The babe needed more time; she had tended to several births in the village and heard of many more. She knew that Hel liked to claim the souls of infants born too soon, and had taken many born later than her daughter would be if the pains refused to cease. She couldn't lose their child before she had begun to live.
"Make it stop," tears streaked down her face. Over bright eyes darted from one woman to the other as she begged. "Please."
She held her stomach tight and rocked forward, unable to shake the unnatural feeling from her mind.
"It can't be stopped," the older woman soothed, running cool fingers through her hair. "We can no more stop your pains than we can stop the sun from rising. It is time for your child to enter this world."
She sobbed and fought it for as long as she could, but the shadows lengthened. The sun rose higher over the roof of the house, and she was powerless to stop the flow of time as her body worked through the motions without her consent.
Just before the pain became all-encompassing she wondered if it mightn't have been easier on her body to give in and breathe through it, but then she was pushing and she couldn't think, she could barely breathe, and the only thoughts she spared were wordless pleas to Frigg for her child's health.
Her world shrank to the narrow room.
Plea… breathe… push…
Pressure built down low.
Plea… breathe… push…
Kol would be hard pressed to talk her into more children after this one.
She thought that perhaps it was fortuitous the woman had sent him off to inform their family because if he were present she would have cursed him where he stood.
Plea… breathe… push…
Push…
Just one more push…
That was what the younger one said, and she fell for it every time because surely one time she would be right.
And then she was.
The pressure eased. Her pain faded to a dull ache — present, but easily ignored now in favour of the sight between her spread legs. Dark red streaked the young woman's arms to the elbow as she cradled something unbelievably tiny in her spread hands.
"She's not crying." Elena shifted to brace against the headboard and held out her arms. "Why isn't she crying?"
She watched the flash of a knife and knew the lifeline that tied her babe to her had been severed, and all she wanted was to put her right back where she had been to grow bigger and stronger.
"Not all babies cry," stained fingers dragged a rag over the tiny body.
"Give her to me," she whispered, broken by the lack of sound. She barely noticed the glance her companion cast over her shoulder, or the fact that they were the only two in the room.
She wrapped the babe in cloth, shifted onto her knees and carefully placed the child in the crook of her mother's arm.
Elena gazed down at the pinched features and mottled skin — too small for the world. She doubted her lungs could have handled a strangled grunt, much less a piercing cry. For one long moment all was still, but then she felt it. She traced her finger over the soft slope of nose and cheek to linger atop her heart; the pulse pressed upwards. She felt the life flow through her body, but it was nowhere near as strong as the magic her infant possessed — the last remnant of the power her husband had wielded — but no amount of magic would ever make up for the time she had lost.
"What have you done?" The sharp voice startled Elena into looking up; the infant pressed closer to her breast with a soft sound.
"She wanted to hold her."
"You've only made this more unbearable," she placed a steaming cup in Elena's hand and reached for the babe. "Drink that; it will help you heal."
"I don't want to put her down," she trembled, sipping the liquid before she could think better of it. Warmth spread through her body and weighed down her limbs; darkness crept into her vision.
"No mother ever wishes to part with her child," the voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
Her protests never made it past her lips as she was pulled under. The last thing she felt was the squirm of her baby as she was lifted from her arms with the shrill sound of her first cry.
I know it’s been a little while, but here is the next chapter for BMR. Between Covid, work, labour strikes and life in general I haven’t been feeling very motivated to work on writing, but I’m trying to get back into a groove because I miss writing.
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3
Alaric cautiously eyed the second new student in as many days, wary after the return of the Salvatores to New Orleans. The daylight ring on his finger and the straight set of his shoulders did nothing to ease his fears.
No twenty-first century teenager possessed that kind of posture.
"We've got a rule about taking vampires older than seventeen." He leaned back in his chair, adopting what he knew to be cool indifference.
"I understand," he nodded and raised his hands innocently, "but perhaps an exception can be made in my case. I have spent the last centuries desiccated and have only recently awoken. This world has greatly changed and I find myself lost in it."
"And yet you found your way directly to my school." He tilted his head.
His guest lifted his chin and offered a serene smile.
"I was fortunate enough to meet a woman in Virginia who told me of this place." Unbidden an image of Liz popped into Alaric's mind. "I beseech you Dr. Saltzman, allow me to stay."
"Well, I can't exactly send you unprepared into the world," he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, "but I can't just let a 400 year old vampire stay either."
"I'll have to consult with the school board. Until then, you can remain on a trial basis. I'll get one of the students to show you around." He reached around for the microphone and clicked it on. "Eve Mikaelson report to the head master's office. Eve Mikaelson to the head master's office."
He flipped off the microphone as the door creaked open thanks to Eve's enhanced speed. "You wanted to see me?" She frowned. "Is this about the botched spell in the garden? I didn't mean to wreck the fountain."
Alaric resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
"Eve, I need someone who can handle a potentially dangerous vampire during a tour. Who better than an Original capable of compulsion if he gets out of line?"
Her eyes flickered to him. "He doesn't look dangerous."
"Neither does your mother," Alaric chuckled.
She shrugged at that and turned her attention to the guest chair while extending a hand.
'I'm Eve." He surprised her by taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. A blush spread across her cheeks.
"It is a pleasure to meet you Eve. My name is Sebastian."
++++
She held her breath and the delicate silver bracelet, eying a patch of golden sunlight where it streamed through the clear glass ceiling. Her heart beat hard and fast beneath the lump in her throat.
"Are you gonna walk over?" Elena perched on a low chair and tipped her head back to soak in the bright day. "That bracelet isn't just for show."
"Go on," Stefan prodded the small of her back, propelling her forward.
"If I have any luck, then Elena botched it."
"Can it, Damon!" She glared over her shoulder and exhaled in a rush. Then she slowly stepped forward until she stood beside Elena's chair. She tipped her chin up and closed her eyes to bask in it.
"I don't mess stuff up Damon," Elena snapped. She crossed her legs at the ankle. "How do you feel Lexi?"
A smile turned up the corners of her mouth and lifted the apples of her cheeks. She stretched her arms out wide and spun, giggling as the sun warmed her cold skin.
"You really are a witch," she exhaled, opening her eyes. "How is this possible?"
"It's a long story involving hybrids, time travel, civil war and a thousand year old witch." Elena hummed, tilting her head. "The more interesting question is how you're alive."
"Not sure," she shrugged, "one minute I was dead and wanting to inflict some revenge. Next thing I knew I was alive and beating the crap out of Damon."
"Revenge may be the common theme."
"So we can plan on mother and father enacting some. We'll need a plan to deal with that," Kol came down the stairs. tucked away his phone and bent over her chair to kiss Elena's cheek. "We are needed for an emergency meeting of the board.”
"What's going on?" Elena frowned. "And I've already sent out some information that'll bring us some extra help... Hopefully."
“Evidently there's a very old vampire seeking admission to the school." Elijah strode in from his study.
"And if its one of your children then he's not staying," Kol's eyes slid to his elder brother.
"I think the better question is whether he was alive last week," Elena rolled her eyes. "Now that I'm thinking of it I should check that out for the new kid too."
"What kid?" Kol frowned.
"Henry, I think." Elena pursed her lips and wrinkled her brow to summon an image of the boy's painfully familiar features. "Erik was showing him around yesterday. I highly doubt it, but better safe than sorry, right?"
++++
He could hardly believe his luck, not two days into the assignment and already she walked alongside him. He knew he should focus on the task at hand, but he was already ahead of schedule and the girl had such a pretty blush.
It would be remiss to not see it again.
"How is it that you are meant to keep me from getting out of line?" His tongue twisted around the unfamiliar phase even as he maintained the charming smile that once labeled him the town flirt.
"Compulsion," Eve lifted a smooth brow. "Weren't you listening to Dr. Saltzman?"
"I assumed he spoke in jest." Sebastian paused on the worn path between the school and what appeared to be an athletic field of some sort. "Vampires are surely immune to compulsion."
"Not around my family." Eve pivoted on a heel to face him and settled her hands on her hips, knocking the leather bag on her shoulder behind her back.
"The Mikaelsons?" He frowned. He had thought her flush would be easier to rise. "What makes your family so special?"
"You really don't know anything, huh?" she tilted her head. "They're only the first vampires in the world. The only vampires to have hybrid and tribrid children."
"I beg your forgiveness of my ignorance, Eve Mikaelson." he inclined his head and took a step closer. "I was a vampire for mere months before a witch sealed me in a coffin and buried me alive."
Her haughty expression melted. He could have sworn in that moment her captivatingly beautiful eyes shimmered.
"I was awakened a handful of days ago by a woman in the former colony of Roanoke. She told me of your school for the supernatural."
"Roanoke?" She swallowed. "How long were you desiccated?"
"I'm told almost 500 years —“
His words cut off when strong slender arms wrapped around his torso. Warmth burst through him, shattering the last vestiges of ice around his heart.
"What are you doing?" he frowned, already reaching to return the embrace.
"Anyone that's been abandoned for that long needs a hug,” her muffled voice brushed the silk shirt and tickled his chest.
He found himself grateful for the way she had smooshed her face as it hid the pink tinge on his cheeks.
"You're a very forward young woman." He chuckled, holding her tighter to his body without meaning to.
"This from the guy that kissed me a second after meeting me," she laughed.
The sound was pure sunlight wrapping around him. With it he found the strength to pull away, confident her laughter could replace the comfort of her arms.
"Who could blame me?" He smiled and slid his hands to her elbows. "You are, without question, the most beautiful woman I have ever met."
Her cheeks tinted pink under his sparkling gaze.
"If I do not leave this school with an education at least I shall have the memory of your soft skin, and warm hug."
"And you call me bold," she mumbled, but if anything she blushed harder.
"Forgive me, please. I seem to forget myself around you."
"I suppose I could let it go," she glanced down.
"You've a truly compassionate soul."
Eve smiled faintly and lifted her chin as she turned back around. She opened her mouth to say something, probably about the school, when her toe caught on a loose stone and she dropped her bag with a muttered curse to make a seasoned sailor blush. Books, loose pages and half a dozen brightly coloured sticks, he remembered Ariadne calling pens, scattered across the grass.
With a sigh she sank to her knees.
“Allow me to help.” Sebastian knelt and started reaching for her things. He gathered the pens in a blink of an eye and then reached for an open leather book, fingers pausing above the ornate sketch of antique daggers so real it appeared to sit within the page.
His mission came flooding back to the forefront of his mind and he longed to hear her sweet laugh again, just to banish it for a moment longer.
“You’re an artist,” he picked up the book.
“Oh,” Eve frowned, “no. My cousin and uncle are the artists.”
“Then this is your cousin’s property?” He carefully flipped a page, engrossed in the images.
“It’s my mom’s actually,” he caught her new flush from the corner of his eyes, accompanied by a sheepish smile. “When you meet her please don’t tell her I’ve got it. She thinks it’s safely locked up.”
“Your secret is safe in my hands,” he chuckled, “but I find myself confused. Why does your mother lock away a book of drawings?”
She laughed then, summoning the sunlight to warm him from the inside out.
“They’re not drawings. They’re magical objects my mom sealed in paper. Some are really dangerous.”
“If they are dangerous should they not be locked away.” He frowned, surely things wouldn’t be so simple.
“It’s fine,” Eve waved a hand dismissively. “Only my mom, my brother and I can get them out. It’s a family thing.”
“Truly?” He felt his brows raise.
“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “Not even dad can get them out. There was this really powerful diamond my mom locked up, it was special to them, one of the first objects they found together or something. When I was two, maybe a little younger my dad brought the page with the diamond into my room because he wanted it.”
“Why not just ask your mother?”
“It was a surprise,” she smiled, bright and warm — eyes reflecting the sun. “He had it cut into an engagement ring, apparently I almost gave the whole thing away though because mom came in the room after I took it out. Dad hid the diamond in his pocket and I kept trying to reach for it.” She lifted her wrist to show him a charm bracelet containing a diamond and the same crest that decorated the school. “He made this for me, because apparently I wouldn’t be here without that diamond, or something. Honestly, I’ve always been a little too sacred to ask for more details.”
“You’re parents sound incredibly romantic.” He smiled, handing her the book.
“And incredibly embarrassing,” she scoffed, stuffing away her mother’s grimoire.
“As are all parents,” he conceded, thoughts turning to his own family.
++++
Elena slid into the chair Kol pulled out, crossed her legs and leaned back, resting her hands on the arm rests. She glanced over when her husband’s tongue clicked and followed his gaze to Elijah.
“Always so formal, brother,” he smirked.
“Is it so wrong to look my best?” Elijah countered.
“He’s got a point, ‘Lijah,” Elena sighed, “you could stand to loosen up a bit.”
“If he ever wears a pair of jeans I’ll assume hell has frozen over and the apocalypse is nigh,” Klaus rolled his eyes.
“If he ever puts on a pair of jeans he’s not making it outside the bedroom.”
“Little more info than I needed Hayley,” her eyes found Alaric across the table as the rest of the family settled in.
"So," she tilted her head. "Who's the new kid?"
"He's not a kid, darling, hence the meeting," Kol smirked, reaching for her hand beneath the table and linking their fingers.
"Kol's right, love," Klaus nodded.
"Was that painful to say, Nik?" He tilted his head.
"Don't be silly, Kol," Caroline snickered, "it's not like he admitted he was wrong about something."
"I expect he would burst into flames if that were to happen." Rebekah spun in her chair. "Back to Elena's question."
"He's with Eve —“
"You left my baby girl with a centuries old vampire?" Kol leapt from his seat, vanishing from the board room in the blink of an eye.
They stared at the empty space. After a beat of silence Elijah addressed the group.
"Are we in agreement that discussing and voting on the matter is now irrelevant?"
"Come on, Elijah, Kol won't kill him for talking to Eve." Hayley rolled her eyes.
"He was flirting a bit," Alaric cleared his throat.
"I'm gonna make sure he doesn't kill him," Elena sighed and got to her feet. "As far as I'm concerned as long as he was telling the truth about how long he was desiccated he can stay."
"What if he was desiccated for a good reason?" Alaric frowned. "People don't change over night Elena."
"They don't," she agreed, "but it’s hardly been a night, and everyone deserves a second chance."
++++
Eve stifled a shriek and jumped to the left, relaxing when she realized it was just her dad, but then her annoyance flared because her dad’s hand curled around Sebastian’s throat.
“Seriously dad!” She stomped her foot.
“What are your intentions toward my daughter?” His jaw clicked as he compelled. “Answer me!”
“I have no intentions, sir,” he wheezed around the constriction on his neck. “We’ve just met.”
“Kol!” Elena came up behind him and laid a hand on his arm.
“Intentions can develop in an instant.”
“Mom, he’s embarrassing me,” Eve groaned, burying her burning face in her hands.
“I know baby,” she sighed and tugged her husband away. “That’s enough, Kol, the poor boys been through enough: desiccated for 500 years.”
“Desiccated for a reason, I bet,” he snapped, glaring over Elena’s head.
“Mom!”
“I’ve got this, baby girl,” she shot a smile over her shoulder.
“Elena, let me go,” his eyes narrowed. There was something about the young vampire’s slow smile that irked him; he couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity when he touched him. “500 years buried, love.”
“900 years buried!” She snapped, succeeding in capturing his eyes. “Finn was desiccated 900 years; and you spent 300 cumulative years in a box. Rebekah and Elijah were down for who knows how long. Did Klaus always have a good reason for doing that to you? Did Emily Bennett have a reason to seal all 26 vampires in a tomb, leaving them to desiccate? Did the Founder’s Council have a good reason to murder Lexi? Did Marcel have a good reason to leave countless vampires buried alive in the garden?” She grimaced at the memory of her son, grey all over from blood loss.
Beneath her restraining hands she felt Kol’s muscles relax slightly.
“We don’t know the circumstances here,” she sighed, pushing her hair behind her ear, “we can’t turn him away without a basic understanding of this century, and you can’t kill him just because he was flirting with your baby girl.”
“There was no flirting!” Eve turned vermillion.
“There may have been a little flirting,” Sebastian cleared his throat.
“You’re not helping your case, Sebastian,” Elena rolled her eyes.
“My apologies Mrs. Mikaelson,” he lowered his eyes and inclined his head.
“I don’t want him alone with her.” Kol met Elena’s eyes.
“I’m right here, daddy,” Eve tossed up her hands, “and I can handle myself.”
“Evie…” he started, only to be cut off by his daughter; she grew more like her mother everyday.
“Sebastian has been a perfect gentleman since we left grandpa’s office. He hasn’t done anything wrong, and even if he did way back when,” she waved vaguely behind her shoulder, “doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”
Kol’s eyes flickered over her slowly as he sighed. “You are your mother’s daughter. Would it kill you, just once, to see the absolute worst in someone, and be suspicious on sight?”
“If I did that I wouldn’t be me,” Eve shrugged, mouth tipping up in a smirk, “I’d be uncle Nik.”
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