Disclaimer: I own none of the characters (though I have this wild hope that Klaus will turn up on my door someday) nor the events referenced in this fic.
Petrova 1475. Petrova 1992.
He meets the first doppelgänger when he is four hundred years old. The moment he gets wind of the Petrova girl's presence in England, he deploys his servants to shadow her every move and uncover every piece of information about her.
Eighteen years old. Bulgarian nobility. Sent to England by her parents; no one knows why. Staying with her aunt, the Lady Constantinova. Can play the lute and the harp. Likes red roses, the smell of cinnamon…
It is not long before she arrives at his estate; on his birthday no less. A present from the gods, if such beings existed.
When she is presented to him, he can't help but devour every single detail of her appearance. Except for the curly hair and the rounder face, everything else is the same. The same dark eyes, peach lips, smooth, sun-kissed skin…
Exquisite.
"Zdravei, Katerina"
Katerina, he admits, is enjoyable the first few months of their time together. Bright and high-spirited, she fills his study with intellectual conversation and the once silent courtyards with bright, bubbly laughter. He also discovers that she is a good lover; nights of quick, gasping breaths and cries of pleasure can attest to that.
But despite the entertainment Katerina provides him, she is dispensable. A pawn in his grand design.
His brother seems to think otherwise. Klaus observes that Elijah's smiles are different-warmer, less condescending-when they are directed at her. He sees the way his eyes trace her features at dinnertime. Foolish. She isn't her. It may be the same cup, but the wine is different.
Fragrant and sickeningly sweet; the flavor of youth. Soon, he grows discontent with a few sips. It's time to empty the cup.
"The full moon is tomorrow, brother. After all these centuries, it is finally time."
When he encounters Katerina again, years later, he finds that the wine has turned into bitters. Left out in the air of violence and brutality long enough to drain her of all sweetness.
The discovery of a second doppëlganger is unexpected. He and Maddox are watching the boarding house, listening to the activity in the basement. He is about to give the order to the warlock to draw Katerina out of the basement and ambush her when the girl arrives. She comes into their line of vision like a bystander wandering into the cross-hairs.
He's rooted to the spot, shock robbing him of sensibility as he appraises her. A mirror image of Katerina. He ignores the swirl of confusion that threatens to break his concentration as he comes to terms with what he's seeing.
Impossible, he thinks, the line ended centuries ago. It can't be..
But when Katerina enters the parlor and moves to stand before the girl in a manner reminiscent of a person admiring her reflection in the mirror, it is undeniable.
The Petrova line lives on.
"Sir, shall I take them down?" asks the warlock.
His first instinct is to take them both; kill two birds with one stone. But he rallies his discipline and reminds himself to be patient. The last thing he wants is to scare them off and alert the entire town's vampire population to his presence. Better to watch and wait, then catch them unawares.
He turns to the warlock. "It seems we'll have to put Katerina's punishment on hold. There's a curse that needs breaking"
As they are leaving, his mind modifies the blueprints of the plan to suit a new one he is plotting.
In the months preceding the sacrifice, his servants search the surrounding states for werewolves while he remains in Mystic Falls, watching her. Unlike with Katerina, he doesn't have to dig too deep to find out the nature of this Elena Gilbert. Warm, kind, compassionate, gentle, and self-sacrificing. Predictable, nothing special. A classic Mary Sue.
But despite the good girl persona, she has inherited her ancestress's dilemma.
The love between her and Stefan is undeniable; they're a matched pair, both so full of goodness it makes them weak. But he sees her struggle against the lure of Damon. The elder Salvatore is her polar opposite-dark, dangerous, reckless-yet he can see the look of ardent desire when she's alone with him.
He was once a point on the love triangle trope so he knows too well what her problem is. She can't choose. So she takes turns playing with each brother as if they were two beloved toys she couldn't bear to part with.
And the fools fall for it like they did with Katerina; they trail after her like a pair of dogs and fight over her as if she was a nice, juicy steak.
She falls short of appealing to him though. Nothing about her extends his interest beyond her usefulness as a Petrova.
She is more water than wine: pure and clear. No mystery, only transparency.
But then again, water is a basic need for life. Instrumental in ensuring the survival of his progeny.
"Thank you, Elena" he whispers, as he sinks his teeth into her neck. The taste is dull and flat as she washes over his tongue. A disappointment, considering her lineage.
He's savored them both, yet neither of them can compare to the richness and boldness of Tatia Petrova.
They are merely copies. Everything, yet nothing like her.
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