Puppet on Your Strings
"I have heard of your paintings too, well enough; God hath given you one face, and you make yourselves another. You jig, you amble and you lisp, and nickname God's creatures, and make your wantonness your ignorance." –Hamlet, Hamlet(Act 3, Scene 1).
A pinch here, a prod there, not out of malice or spite but out of a bored curiosity. He didn't even know if she existed. This mythical salvation, his personal holy grail. If there was another Petrova doppleganger in existence this little doll was merely his little toy to imagine what his tinkering could do.
One of his witches had crafted it. After a passionate night(for he sometimes indulged himself and mixed business with pleasure) she offered it to him.
'If you wish to monitor Katerina even when her heartbeat jumps beyond your ears' reach….'
A malicious act done to please him. He was flattered. The witch had been meek and kind when he'd first kidnapped her. He had succeeded in corrupting her. If he was sceptical of the gift at first, it was still an object that fuelled his vanity.
Elijah did not find it so amusing. He never did share the obsession with toys that Klaus had, even as children.
'Lead Katerina like a lamb to slaughter Niklaus…but do not draw this out. Let this be a means to an end, do not prolong her suffering for some tinker toy your concubine made you.'
No sense of fun. He should have seen it coming. He'd made the stupid mistake of assuming that his brother's love for Tatia had been as true as his own. He should have suspected that any woman who stole her face would beguile Elijah. He was a romantic at heart and would mold the doppleganger into any form he wished in order to behoove her of wearing that face.
Klaus was not so deluded. The face meant nothing without his girl behind it. Katerina was nothing but mutton dressed as lamb, leeching off every kind word he fed her. She remained oblivious to his resentment of her prancing around in a body she could never fully deserve and smiling in a simpering fashion…..even her facial expressions lacked what her predecessor had embodied effortlessly. Oh Tatia, this is blasphemy to see your memory mocked so!
He has delved into her mind on occasion. He can truly taste her fear that way, savour it. Katerina longs for his approval because of his reputation. If she can melt his heart then she can redeem herself after her disgrace, win back her family's respect and affection. He offers her crumbs. Enough to sustain her but not nearly enough to keep her at ease.
Snippets of her stream of consciousness pass through him-
'His words are too sweet- will choke on them. Like swallowing honey from the jar- I feel overindulged like a child with a sweet tooth…too thick, too rich…what does he want, WHAT DOES HE WANT….'
She becomes hysterical and it threatens to bubble over into reality and crease that false plastered smile. He then reverts to civility and feigned meekness to calm her, to reassure her that he does care and how could she doubt such a thing? Of course he is a bad man but she is a good woman and can change him, no?
However, Elijah does not share these sentiments. He would rather entertain romantic notions of reincarnation and even then when Tatia's absence was proven, he would still make those lovesick eyes. His was a shallow love, a desperate love without ideals. He disgraced Tatia by falling for her shadow.
But Elijah's true act of treachery to his brother and to his dead love was when he sought to spare Katerina her fate. Sabotage in the name of nobility? Utterly deluded.
Initially he trifles with the doll out of sheer vexation at Katerina despite knowing full and well that being dead, her stagnant heartstrings cannot feel the mildest flutter. It becomes therapeutic. Instead of decapitating a person in one of the many fits of rage that he is prone to he simply squeezes or pricks at the doll. Countless lives have been spared over the centuries since Katerina's flight, due to this seemingly insignificant piece of cloth and twain.
But the doll is more than that. Of course it is. But Klaus doesn't know just yet. His prey senses it but her mind has yet to translate her heart's erratic beating patterns that seem induced by some malevolent god.
Thousands of miles away, Elena Gilbert feels the by now familiar flutter race through her heart as she sits with her family at the dinner table. The pacemaker two years ago has accomplished nothing…..she sighs and waits for it to slow as her parents continue talking about their day.