Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries/The Originals or their characters. I'm just using my own creative license to play with them.

Chapter 1

"I need two bowls of jambalaya and bell peppers, onions and celery chopped for shrimp gumbo," Marcel Gerard requested of his sous chefs. Murmurs of "yes boss" reached his ears and he smirked. He would never get tired of hearing that. Just like every night, business was booming with tourists wanting to sample all that New Orleans had to offer. Marcel had no intention of disappointing.

"Hey, Marcel," one of his servers, Ashley, said flirtingly, "are my table's Po boys ready?" Ashley was a notorious man-eater and a flirt, borderline unprofessional. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on opinion, she was an excellent server to the high rolling tourists. Marcel flashed her a grin and placed the fish Po boys on the window.

"Here it is, Ash."

Ashley fluttered her eyelashes at him as she retrieved her order. "When are you going to take me up on my offer? I think we could have a really great time together…" she trailed off suggestively.

Marcel rolled his eyes, sighed and continued to chop shrimp. This was the reason he had issues with Ashley. "Ashley, I've told you. I don't date my employees."

"So fire me."

Marcel put the knife down, exasperated. Behind him, he could hear the snickers of the other chefs. "Don't you have Po boys to deliver?" She flashed him a flirty smile and left the kitchen.

Shaking his head, Marcel frowned. Ashley was fairly new to town so she probably hadn't heard all of the rumors, but Marcel was sure one of the others would take it upon themselves to inform her. It wasn't just that he didn't date employees, which he didn't. He just also didn't date anyone. Looking at the ring on the ring finger of his left hand, he mused that explaining his absentee wife wasn't exactly something that he wanted to do the night before his anniversary.

Or ever.

Rebekah Mikaelson—Rebekah Mikaelson Gerard, her inner voice reminded her—could not sleep. October 25th marked her fifth year anniversary to a husband she had not set eyes on in three years. If only they were happy. Or together…or in the same state.

She rolled over to look at the clock. 2:59 am. Her upstate New York apartment felt especially cold in the wake of the memories that consumed her. She was plagued with thoughts of a happier time, of a time where the princess got her prince and they lived happily ever after.

Yeah, well, they don't tell what happens after happily ever after, she thought bitterly. Fairytales were for children, told by parents so they stave off the inevitable: growing up and realizing the world wasn't all that it claimed to be. Cinderella never showed the real ending, the heartache and pain and blame…

Shaking off her morose thoughts, she rolled over to look at the clock again. The red digits proclaimed that it had only been a minute. The witching hour, her mind supplied ominously. If just to confirm her thoughts, the phone rang. Rebekah leaned over to switch the light by her bed on and answer the phone.

"Hello?" Her voice was hoarse from sleep and she was wary. Nothing good could come from a phone call so early in the morning.

"It's me Rebekah," her brother answered as if she couldn't tell. He was one of the few people who still called the landline.

"What is it, Elijah?"

"It's Finn…he's passed, Rebekah. You must come home immediately."

Home? She was in shock as tears immediately filled her eyes, both from grief and fear of what Elijah had demanded. She was home. She vowed she would never return to New Orleans. Not after all the heartache and blame and pain, the stuff fairytales were not made of. Not after…

But this was her older brother who had died, not a stranger. And though she was not particularly close to him, it was her obligation to be there for the rest of the family. They all helped when she went through her period of grief. She might have turned tail and left New Orleans, but she was stronger now. She could handle it. She would handle it.

"Rebekah?" Elijah questioned, probably wondering if she had hung up on him like she was prone to do.

Squaring her shoulders, she made the decision that would reopen the storybook and its consequential wounds. "I'll be there in the morning."

A.N. I'd like to dedicate this first chapter to two of my roommates, Naya and Nelly who encouraged me to get started and enjoy being my pre-readers. Thanks Naya for also being my beta reader and fixing all my comma mistakes. This first chapter is short but the others get a lot longer. Please review with comments.