A/N: This is dedicated to an requested idea that was crafted by the fellow Fanfiction user I love Kol Miakelson. I hope I did your idea justice.
*Disclaimer: I own nothing, folks. All rights go to the actual creators and writers behind Vampire Diaries.*
**And the idea is all I love Kol Miakelson's.**
Please comment and enjoy the show.
Unseen, Unappreciated Magic
A slight breeze entered the room through the open window pane. "Can't Feel My Face" burst from under the closed bathroom door. A straight-faced man laid across a black and purple bedspread staring up at the ceiling. A loud off key happy voice resounded off his bathroom tiles. He winced as the sounds mutilated his ears. She really needed to stop, before his ears grew some legs and swam off to a deserted island. She gargled the words with and you. How could someone mess up a simple ballad like that? Sasha terminated those beautiful notes in straggled and tortured squawks. Why didn't he buy ear plugs?
His eyes redirected to the night stand on his left. There rested the source of his suffering to his ears. The reason why he was forced to endure that terrible singing. The surprise invitation. Who invited people around the day of for a big party?
A glossy envelope leaned against the blue lava lamp, which tossed up a giant thick bubble that crashed into the tip of the lamp. A smooth curl of ink covered the inside of the white blank, which offered polite words and meaningless words extending an olive branch to Anthony. Chris Pratt in his red leather glory from the stand alone "Guardians of the Galaxy" poster half-covered the ceiling. Another poster displayed the ever debonair and smirking Tom Hiddleston in his elaborate Loki green clothes and gleaming yellow antler crown. His emerald eyes screamed mischief and trouble...
Anthony swallowed and his pupils expanded. He silently groaned to contain his slight embarrassment over his ridiculous attraction to a roguish fictional character. He had a big problem when it came to fictional characters and he'd fix it…eventually.
At least, he didn't have to grapple with bigger issues. Like Elena did with Klaus. Or Klaus with Elena. Their relationship was one to note in the history books. How many murderers could say they were given the chance to kill their victim and then see them back to life? Rare sight, but a miracle. Or so everybody kept saying so. He didn't think it was that shocking. Elena had always seemed capable of escaping every terrible thing life threw at her.
Elena was a lucky person, or so everyone continued singing to him and expected him to mutely nod and mimic every move Elena made as well. He refused to hum along to those songs. Jeremy and the Salvatore boy toys kept chorusing that Klaus was the worst and Elena was the best.
He rolled his luminous sea green eyes. Elena was equally terrible, if not worse than Klaus. At least, he didn't live in hypocrisy.
Yeah, right. Anthony Gilbert wasn't a threat to Klaus and his recently revived family. And Anthony didn't hold a grudge against them, like his brother and sister did. Jeremy and Elena hated Klaus Mikaelson and most of his other siblings. Not including Elijah, at least in Elena's book.
Well, the ones, the Gilberts had the displeasure of meeting. He heard there were two more….Whether they were brothers or sisters? Both who he would give the benefit of the doubt. Though as a Gilbert, they would care less about his existence, unless it was gather a pawn to hold over Elena and her devoted cult. Realistically, his family wouldn't lift a finger to rescue him if one of the Mikaelsons kidnapped him or worse. She had more important things to commit to.
Elena agreed to remain their first and most annoying enemy, until the dust settled and revealed the more dangerous ones. She refused to get over the horrible things Klaus had done onto everyone. And yet she failed to acknowledge Damon's past insidious deeds. Funny how she was selective with those who she believed deserved to be punished. Elena Gilbert wasn't the only person still mourning Jenna's death. Did she forget about Ric? Jeremy? Himself? She was his aunt too.
Although, Anthony was enraged when he discovered that Aunt Jenna was killed by Klaus. He loved her and she had cared enough to notice him and returned that adoring affection. But he knew seeking revenge against Klaus was stupid. And unnecessary since Elena and company persisted in their quest to undermine him at every possible turn. Klaus did not surrender, he never gave up. Not matter the odds.
Klaus Mikaelson was an ass, but no one could declare him slothful. He persisted in his goals and visions of becoming a great invincible being. One who acquired an army of almost invincible beings like himself; along with multiple connections to slews of underground witches and warlocks.
Klaus held his power with grandiose expressions of power and social grace. He rarely resorted to meager feats of strategy when it came to his family and enemies.
It however isolated Klaus to become a hybrid equivalent of an island, and separated him from any larger contact with other beings. Anthony empathized with Klaus. He would have morphed into his modern-day equivalent, if not for his best friend Sasha; who was the horrendous songstress that had stolen his bathroom.
He was sure that Klaus would disagree on the singular notion that any Gilbert could relate to his millennia span of experiences.
He was just a mortal, at least what Klaus and others around him believed to be true. And Anthony intended for Klaus and his family to keep that perception of him, until Anthony departed for New Orleans. He wanted, no, needed to experience the brand of magic he always dreamed of feeling.
No one knew what Anthony Gilbert really was. Well except, his best friend Sasha. Of course. He couldn't keep a secret like this forever. But that didn't mean he wouldn't try.
An energy pulsated through him as he spoke the elegant phrases. Anthony alternated the words between French and Latin. He found the combination sizzled under his skin. The flames burst upward by his command, and the Gilbert home shook. The vibrations pulled a tiny bobble head to the wood floor and hit it with a pathetic thud.
Anthony Gilbert was a warlock. A good one. Possibly better than Bonnie Bennett. He had no idea where that wonderful hum resonating in his chest originated from. Were there ancient Gilberts that were blessed with magical abilities?
He doubted that. Anthony Gilbert might have to face that mystery on or the sister website. Or he would remain in perfect ignorance for all eternity.
Anthony hated parties. He made no secret about that…But then again, no one seemed to care about what he did or where he went. So luckily for him, there were no pressing worries.
Klaus was all posh language on that lustrous letter.
Why Klaus wanted an entire town to come and visit his personal home? The guy thrived on boasting and drinking around clueless and gullible people. He loved having them greet him with praise and envy. But he also loved to display the control he wielded over his enemies. No matter how far, they appeared to gain an advantage or exploit a weakness, Elena and her groupies were no match for him.
His sister failed to stop his advancements repeatedly. What possessed her to believe that she may finally weaken him?
She was fooling herself.
Elena conjured many ridiculous illusions throughout their lives. She honestly deluded herself to likening her role as a savior to their brother Jeremy. Even to Jenna, when she still breathed and bled. Elena acted like a Superman who lacked the super sight or super hearing. Maybe she would have prevented Katherine's unrelenting desire to survive and halted the evil doppelganger from selling out Jenna. Anthony needed Jenna. He missed her quirks and non-parental skills. She was a major improvement from their actual parents.
Anthony needed her to keep Elena in her place, Jeremy returned to their home, and he included in familial moments.
But she wasn't here. She would never return.
No matter how much he wished things of that magnitude would change. Catastrophic events never contained a rewind option to undo their damage.
"Anthony, honey, stop it," commanded an energetic booming voice.
Anthony Gilbert turned to his best friend. Sasha sashayed over to the bed and swatted his knee. She arched her dark manicured and well-defined eyebrow and an irritated scowl gracing her beautiful black face. Her brown eyes popped with the vibrant firebird eyeshadow that swirled around her lids. The charcoal eyeliner was smooth and not covered in any shavings or thick clumps. Her charcoal hair spun out in thick beautiful curls that haloed around her head. They were majestic spirals that highlighted her regal appearance and complimented her larger than life personality and spirit.
She, of course, rocked that matching fiery red dress. The material laced across her neck and left her shoulders and arms liberated from its' silk-like clutches. The smooth red material clung to her sides and highlighted every exquisite detail. The smoldering red popped out her thick and luscious curves. Her hair spun out in thick black curls. A jeweled fire bird tiara rested on her head. She was crowned, like a goddess. Many men would have lost their voices by meeting her. Their jaws slackened and eyes wide with admiration. Sasha's beauty superseded the Petrova women, Rebekah, Caroline, even Bonnie.
Sasha's beauty personified regal beauty. There was no living person who dared to dream of surpassing her quality.
Anthony understood why men fell at her feet and watched with desire and admiration for her looks. He nearly fell to pieces just by glancing at her, and he wasn't even remotely interested in women. And she was his best friend.
Her personality intimidated men, because she rarely hid her opinions. She allowed them to flow from her in rapid, unrelenting waves. Sasha knew the power of her beauty, both in and out. Sasha King was born to outshine everyone and everything she encountered. Life was a fun, often predictable game for her. While most grew frustrated and threw in the towel, she just smirked and attacked her issues and goals with burning passion. It was inspiring to watch her just blaze, without worrying anything minor.
Anthony Gilbert wished he was like that. He tended to overthink every decision and action he committed to. He stressed and gnawed his nails to the bloody stub, before he finally cemented his future planning.
And this is when he was going to buy milk.
He lacked passion for most things, except for magic. He was zealous when it came to saying the words and then creating grand effects to the natural order.
Anthony refused to create great beings like hybrids. But he still wanted to form blasts and stretches of cohesive strands to wield and deflect other witches and warlocks. Smacking around annoying, arrogant vampires wouldn't be a negative.
Sasha King would love to join in for that. She knew about his sister's dealings with the Salvatores, Mikaelsons. All the shenanigans Elena put the Gilbert family through and forced her friends to undergo. Sasha loathed Elena, and now this only added more ammunition to the fire. Sasha wasn't opposed to one of the Mikaelsons taking her down.
Elena had been a jerk to Sasha when they were elementary students. Elena had chosen some unkind phrases to describe Sasha. Elena called her a…fat chocolate dipped piggy. Sasha had been bigger then, but that didn't give Elena a pass to insult her so. And Sasha then wailed on her and pulled out a large clump of Elena's hair. Elena had missing patches for 6 months. Sasha smirked at her whenever Elena glared at her. Elena had been pitied to her face and then people rejoiced about the perfect little Elena's misery.
She hated vampires more than he did. And Sasha refused to meet any of them. Thank Goodness, although God and Jesus were the reasons she refused to go near them. She didn't think they (vampires) belonged in God's world.
Although, she was fine with warlocks, witches and werewolves, because they were part of the Earth. All beings from Earth were directly crafted from the mighty, all-powerful hands of the Creator.
Sasha was deeply devoted to God and his works. She knew that being a part of nature and respecting it, was in turn respecting God.
She didn't agree with the need to attend a church, but she felt God in everything, everywhere. Sasha King firmly recognized him in all things and his reflected on his overall messenger for his creations.
Anthony honestly liked that interpretation more than anything else he heard from certain proclaimed religious zealots.
Like Sasha, Anthony noticed that people (boys first began to treat her differently) once her boobs came in the fourth grade. She confided to Anthony, she felt left out and she wasn't a normal girl.
Her early growth spurt encouraged many inappropriate glances and some weirdos who felt compelled to compliment her.
And so began, the long-unwelcome praises from men.
That sucked.
For a moment, Sash enjoyed when her crush complimented her. But the creepy stalkers had to go.
She grew bored and angered of men's predictable reactions to her. Sasha loathed guys who just wanted her for her body. Though she could have started singing and those guys would have exploded at the spear-note-throwing impact.
"What are you-" started Anthony.
An irritated huff resounded her lips. Her giant red-painted lips were captured under her teeth. She was pure passionate irritation and anger. She despised when Anthony wasn't on the same page as her.
Which was often.
"Don't act stupid. This Pity Party needs to stop, now…Elena doesn't know a goddamn thing," she sassed.
"But…" he started.
Anthony stopped abruptly at the disapproving expression that poured out of her made-up face. She narrowed her eyes at him. A wave of shame smacked him in the face. He needed to stop this strange impulse to defend his sister, in spite of her many faults.
And she had many faults. Like hundreds. Possibly, thousands.
"Don't make me slap you, witch boy," she threatened.
Anthony winced and glanced down to wood floor. Restless anxiety etched between his brows.
She rolled her eyes. "They're not here, honey."
Anthony sighed.
He knew that….
No, he totally had lost all knowledge about his sister's recent whereabouts. He could honestly care less about where she was at. Elena wasn't his mom. Why would he care enough to ask her about her day?
That wasn't their relationship.
They barely had that. They were more like two people in an apartment complex who lived near each other but never interacted.
Which would be sad, if either sibling cared enough.
That didn't mean Anthony suddenly desired a renewed and healthy relationship with his sister. Elena would want to take advantage of discovering her other brother had powers that could shift the scales in her favor against Klaus. Anthony Henry Gilbert was no one's pawn.
"I don't know why you're worried…It's not like she'd care enough," she bluntly stated.
Anthony felt a pang hit his chest. He then rubbed his sternum. His eyes locked on a picture frame with all the Gilberts smiling and hugging. He didn't really feel the spirit that day. The mythical familial feeling that exudes when family members come together. The photographer suggested they hug. Before and after his family separated and then went back to their usual behavior of either fretting over Elena, giving Jeremy the occasional nod, and then ignored Anthony entirely. It was-
A pillow smacked his face and slid down to his lap. He turned to glare at his buddy. He arched an incredulous eyebrow and raised his arms to display his confused frustration.
"Stop. It. We are going out and enjoying ourselves at that stupid party, okay?" she commanded with a wide, excited arm flourish.
"It's not a party," he sassed with his eyes flaring in irritation.
"Yeah, it is," she argued with her eyes fluttering at an agitated degree.
"No, it's not," he stressed.
"There's booze. We're dressed up. And we'll be around people. It's a freaking party," she argued with her arms crossed across her chest.
"It's a ball," he corrected as he stressed the importance of the technicality.
Honestly, how could she not know the difference?
Sasha rolled her eyes. "I don't care, Gilbert."
Tony's lips tipped upward. "You should."
"Why?" she asked in a mocking tone.
"Because I'm the boss of you," he said with a false Commander voice.
"Ha!" she hollered with glee.
"I'm serious," he argued.
"You're cute," she mocked while she puckered her lips and made some baby gestures at him.
Anthony rolled his sea-green eyes. "Don't call me cute," he ordered.
"I can call you whatever I want…Witch boy," she teased.
"Stop, Sash," pleaded Anthony.
"Witch….Boy…" she sang. Badly. Off-key. On the wrong tone. And it mutilated his ears. R.I.P. They were great when they still collected the proper sound waves and processed them into his vital pumping noodle.
"My ears…" complained Anthony.
"I don't know what you're talking about. I have the voice of an angel," she bragged while "flipping" back her hair. She then cleared her throat and began belting out Lady Gaga's "Edge of Glory". It morphed into the edge of unbearable pain and headaches to rail against his frontal lobe for the rest of the night.
Spirits, he needed one hell of an Advil. Or a hammer to his head to knock him out for a good week. Or twelve.
"More like a screeching demon," remarked Anthony.
Sasha mockingly glared at him. "You would know."
"You're funny," retorted an insincere Witch Boy.
"I know," The fire goddess declared with unconcealed pride and splendor.
"Sash…" Anthony groaned with a snort merged giggle.
Sasha grabbed his hands and dragged him up on his feet. "Now come on."
"Sash…" Anthony started.
She pinned him with a hard look. Anthony held up his hands in surrender and his eyes brimming with innocent intentions.
"Anthony Henry Gilbert, shut up and put this on," she commanded as she tossed the wrapped up fabrics at him.
"I don't-" argued Anthony.
"Nope. I don't care what your mood is. You need this," stated Sash.
"I do?" asked a confused Anthony.
"Uh. Yeah. Everybody knows parties helps," Sash said with a sophisticated air.
"That's not a fact," he argued with a condescending tone.
"It's a Sash fact," she said matter-of-fact.
"A…what?" questioned Anthony.
"I've studied it for years…" she boasted.
"Huh? You're not a doctor, Sash," informed Anthony.
"You don't know my personal life," Sash retorted.
"Actually, I do. I see you like every day," Anthony stated with a stupid smug smirk.
"Boy, shush, and put on that damn suit," Sasha ordered.
"Yes, ma'am," he said with a mock salute.
Sasha arched an eyebrow at him, a warning appeared in her dark brown eyes to not be an ass.
"And you need to put on a happy face," she added. She leaned into his face and playfully pinched his cheeks. He squirmed under her grip. He then dodged her further prodding and pinching by then slipping out like slimy ooze.
"Do what I can," Anthony drily stated.
"I will tie you down," Sasha threatened.
"Kinky…Okay, I'm putting it on. Don't get your panties in a twist," he said.
Sasha scoffed. "Impossible, I'm wearing Spanx."
How did he let Sasha talk him into this foolishness?
He looked down at his smooth well-tailored suit. A dark blue tailored suit with a black silk tie. He had a white lily corsage pinned to the front pocket. His dark brown dipped to his shoulders, and he brushed a curtain of strands to witness the glory of the scene. His face was unmarked by any bright, pulsating red bumps or craters. His bright, wild and unconquerable sea green eyes contrasted with his dark colored and smooth suit.
The room was filled with people who continued to amuse one another with the social rules. They clung to old ideals of how to interact and appeal to each personal gratification. It was ridiculous, and yet amusing to watch people stumble over themselves, so they could impress the other.
What had really changed?
He rose a brow at his friend who winked at him while Sash smirked at him. She then strutted through the doors of the Mikaelsons' house. Like her name was on the dotted line to this place. Men stared at her in admiration and desire, and some women too. Others merely envied the liberating confidence that exuded from her.
He shook his head. His eyes widened when he spotted a smirking young man who had just kissed Mayor Lockwood's hand. The guy seemed out of place among the sea of the Mystic Falls residents. His posture appeared to be one of great power and yet an unpredictability. Almost like an immortal who merely graced the mortals under the obligation to another with a higher distinction.
Though he appeared like someone who didn't like to be constrained by rules or others' opinions or feelings about. Anthony wished he had that ability to brush off those petty concerns with that level of ease.
But he wasn't that bold or rude.
Sasha could. She had. She would do so again.
The mysterious man then turned in his direction and Anthony frowned at the man's hard examining gaze. Anthony clenched his jaw and then ran a hand through his hair. He then walked deeper into the room and plucked off a wine glass from a tray. He glared at a woman who passed him with a disapproving look over his form. Anthony refused to be diplomatic. He then gulped down the burning, fizzing liquid and tossed the champagne glass into a nearby Grecian pot.
He internally groaned when he spotted Damon near the entrance staring at the doorway for some reason.
Did Klaus even care about Damon trying to kill him and interfere with his hybrid plans? Klaus probably wanted to ruin the Salvatores and everyone else who held a special place in Elena's heart.
Or did Damon Salvatore invite himself?
That sounded like the manipulative Salvatore. He was that kind of guy.
"Well, hello, Tony."
Why him? Why was he attracting Mikaelson attention, tonight, of all nights? First that hot mysterious guy, now Klaus. Who was next? Elijah? He knew he should have stayed home and caught up on Stranger Things.
His connected with Klaus' blue-green. For a malicious, blood thirsty, so called "freak of nature", he was quite charming…and good-looking.
All the Mikaelsons were. But Klaus was laced in charm. The immortal hybrid never dropped or misplaced his astonishing magnetism.
"Hello Klaus," greeted Anthony in a calm and welcoming tone.
Klaus rose a brow at Anthony. A strange emotion clouded those blue-green eyes. Surprise and admiration churned in those bright eyes.
"I hope you are enjoying yourself, tonight," Klaus said politely.
Anthony sighed. "Trying to."
"Rather broody for a Gilbert," remarked Klaus with a teasing tone.
Who knew Klaus was such a tease?
Anthony shrugged. "I like to mix it up every once in a while."
Klaus watched him with a newfound interest. "Is that so?"
Anthony nodded. "Everyone needs to refresh every so often. Or become trapped in old and boring behaviors.
"Don't you mean relax?" asked an amused Klaus.
His signature dimples and smirk aligned in an alluring pair. Anthony Gilbert was beginning to understand why so many witches fell into the arms of this Mikaelson. He was really handsome. Anthony never would have guessed Klaus was a terrible mass murderer who was responsible for his aunt's death.
God, Anthony Gilbert really needed help.
"No," said Anthony.
A slight smile formed on his face.
"What do you mean by "refresh"?" Klaus asked.
"It is said humans are machines, right," casually spoke Anthony.
"Great human minds have seemed to make that comparison," coolly remarked Klaus.
"Well then, every now and again, we need to restart and then change our settings, or our attitudes. Then we'll reach the goal of becoming a better, more evolved and informed person," clarified Anthony.
Klaus stared at him for a beat. A gleam of appreciation entered his eyes and inspired a strangely burst of joy that exploded in her chest.
"You're not what I expected, Tony," he commented.
Like he would be an Elena double. Only
Hell, no.
"Well, that's what I do. I shatter expectations no one cares enough to."
Klaus started to laugh. His dimples popped.
Did he just make Klaus laugh?
Anthony was planning to float on that amazing feeling for the next year. So when he would hear how Klaus was planning to hurt Elena from Elena and her gang, he could silently laugh at her misery.
"Hey, baby, you need to try this…Why are with him?" interjected Sasha.
Anthony shrugged. "Well, he's the reason we got to come here. So trying to pay my respects to the host."
Klaus tipped his head in Anthony's direction, and Anthony provided him "It's the least I could do, although I'd rather be anywhere than. The Middle East would have been preferred, honestly" look and shrug combination.
"Is that supposed to mean something?" Sasha sassed.
"Depends on who you ask, love," casually said Klaus.
"No one's talking to you," Sash snapped.
Klaus rose an eyebrow and an incredulous look of astonishment overtook his face. Anthony internally winced. Oh no…What was Sash doing? She knew about the supernatural world. He warned her about the danger and damage that beings like Klaus provided to the world. Anthony Henry Gilbert refused to allow his friend to blindly smack into the supernatural world without a heads-up. Klaus wasn't entirely terrible, but he wasn't a saint either.
No one would be naming churches after him any time soon. Or any statues that commemorated his might and life.
Many power-hungry men crafted their reputations through fear, mind games and good-old fashioned torture and murder. These like-minded individuals never gave a care about the consequences their actions had on others. It's what they did. Guys like Klaus did what they wanted.
It was wrong, but one had to admire their perseverance and their resourcefulness. They abolished and obliterated all the obstacles out of their path.
"Sash…" warned Anthony.
He loved Sash, but she never got the hint to close her trap when she needed to. Her brain never grappled with the concept of thinking for her well-being. Shame, really, but people sometimes had to make rash decisions and trade harsh words with an immortal hybrid to figure that out.
"Zip it, Ant," decreed Sash.
Anthony rolled his bottom lip into his mouth. Even though, he feared what Klaus could inflict on Sasha, he was far more afraid of what his best friend would do to him.
He didn't want his pride damaged…again.
She was so strong. And she knew how to pin him to the ground like the beta wolf he was. Sasha excelled in dominating him at anything physical, because she forbid him using magic. Then he might have had a chance in matching her physical prowess.
And she always contained that astonishing athletic gene.
"I think you are being a bit too harsh, love," chided Klaus.
A bit?
Really?
What was going on?
"Don't tell me what to do. You're not the boss of me," snarked Sash.
Oh. No.
She needed to close her mouth. Or Klaus would do it for.
Klaus walked over to Sash with his dimples popping. "Is that so?" he said in an amused tone.
What in God's green Earth…
"Are you afraid, Shaggy Dog?" mocked Sash.
"Not a chance, love," Klaus argued.
Anthony rolled his eyes. He pushed down the acid bubbling over in his mouth. There was no way they could…
Nope.
Don't.
Think.
About.
That.
So.
Freaking.
Gross…
Where was the trash can when you really needed it?
He wished to that purge thought along with the memory of watching his best friend and interesting hybrid form a rivalmance.
"And I wonder why you are so quick to judge love?" teased Klaus.
Why wasn't he reacting like he normally did? With a bipolar hybrid swing where he snapped some necks? When would he pull out vital some organs? And handing out insults like a ancient roaster?
"I just call it like I see, Flea Bag," she remarked with a swivel of her neck.
Anthony ran a hand over his face and sent a direct prayer up to the Heavens. No, Lord. Please, Lord. Not today, Lord. Save your daughter from herself. Please, please, please. She didn't know she was tap-dancing on the Lion's tail. It's only a matter of time before he reverted back to his animalistic and unapologetic murderous settings.
Klaus' lips flattened. "That's rather rude, love."
"And?" she sneered.
"He's right. That's not cool Sash," interjected Anthony.
"Listen to your friend," cautioned Klaus with an even-lined face. No dimples or amusement currently decorated his face.
Not a good sign.
Sash needed to back up and run now.
Like a million miles here.
Anthony Henry Gilbert heard that Jupiter was nice this time of year…He rather see Sash and himself burn up in that unstable atmosphere than stand a second longer and test that emotionally turbulent hybrid Original.
"Well, Anthony has his moments, but he doesn't know a goddamn thing," Sasha said.
He wasn't Jon Snow. He knew a thing or two. Anthony valued his life very much, he didn't risk it on stupid heroic deeds.
"Gee, thanks, Sash," muttered Anthony.
"I'd like to argue the opposite sentiment, love."
"I'm not scared of your furry, smirky punk ass," Sasha sassed.
A lengthy 30 seconds of a heavy pause filled between the three. Anthony pulled down his cowardly stance and summoned a deep resounding force that occupied him in a field of defense. In case, Klaus decided to go nuclear on his friend, Anthony would have a great amount of energy to blow him away.
Sasha seemed aware of the mood change, but she didn't change her unimpressed or angry expression what-so-ever.
Klaus then released the dimples. "Well, love, you are definitely better than most."
That wasn't the hardest accomplishment in this town. People tended to be ignorant sacks that were slaughtered in the cross fires of the ridiculous, baseless feuding between the Salvatores and Klaus Mikaelson.
Or they were murderers.
Related to murderers. And committed the mass murders.
God, Anthony needed to move out of Mystic Falls.
Sasha King and Klaus Mikaelson.
That sounded like a strange coupling.
One that twisted Anthony's organs in revulsion.
"Look, Sash. Someone likes you," teased Anthony.
He wanted to barf, but he pushed down the
"W.B. Shut it. I know all about this evil in this place and you sir sleeping with the devil," she condemned Klaus.
A wave of interest and amusement filled Klaus' features.
Anthony Gilbert heaved out an exhausted sigh. He scanned around the "evil" home of the Mikaelsons. He hoped nothing happened to Sash. He could try and stop Klaus, but that would be revealing his little secret.
He'd not do that anytime tonight. Or like ever.
"The devil, love? You can't possibly be buying that sad belief," he taunted.
Sash sighed in irritation.
Klaus smirked and joy entered his eyes.
Anthony hid a groan.
"You guys were created by other natural being. You didn't exist until the witches intervened."
"You forget that I'm half love,"
"Half ass?" Sash sassed.
Klaus chuckled. "Half wolf, half vampire."
Sash scoffed, "Is that supposed to…make me care?"
Klaus shrugged. "You tell me, love."
Sasha rolled her dark brown eyes. "I've got nothing else to say to you, Wolf Man."
Klaus' dimples popped again.
"Would you like to dance?" asked Klaus.
What the what?
Did Klaus really have a thing for women who verbally abused him? If so, he required some serious intervention.
Who actually liked that?
"Ha. Only when Hell freezes over," Sasha retorted.
"Come on, love," cajoled Klaus.
She tapped her manicured nail to her chin and batted her eyelashes rapidly at Klaus. "Let me think….Hmm…No."
Sasha then pivoted to Anthony. "I'll see you in a minute. I need to see if they have the good stuff. Excuse me, garçun?"
Anthony laughed. Klaus turned to face him with a "So where is your sister tonight? Occupying one of the Salvatores, no doubt," he taunted.
Probably Damon, Elena still wasn't over what Stefan did to her on that bridge. Elena held grudges like Hera, Goddess of Women and Marriage, she too gave a leniency to her love. She never forgave or forgot, until someone sacrificed their entire being to her cause. Whatever mindless cause, that was.
Anthony blinked and then arched an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I thought Elena hadn't arrived yet."
Klaus sighed irritably. Almost as if he wasn't pleased of the lack-luster information provided by the least important Gilbert. "Never mind, I'm sure your sister will reveal herself with one of the Salvatores eventually. Thank you, Tony. Help yourself to a few drinks."
Anthony blinked in confusion. Then a spark of slight admiration rolled through his ribs. Rarely anyone acknowledged his existence, especially people involved with his special sister. He hardly recalled when anyone saw him, like noticed him eye to eye, and then scanned about his appearance. The burns that ran down his arms, and marked his smooth white coloring with darkened pink, almost magenta, mixed with a couple swatches of imperial red invading them.
He had no idea where he got those scars. He always remembered having them. Perhaps, a childhood accident that no one ever remarked on.
He ironically never encountered any awkward questioning, except for the blunt questions from his best friend. His family never seemed worried or bothered by him. Elena and Jeremy preferred running off on some weekly supernatural quest.
It would have stirred waves of irritation in him, but Anthony was numb to the sensation. When it came to family functions, gatherings or concerns, he was forgotten. Left to handle any problems on his own.
They, specifically Elena, didn't even acknowledge his existence enough to whisk him away to a secure location. Away from any Mikaelson threat or plot to trick Elena into surrender.
Not that any magical intervention would allow any Mikaelson to him away without a struggle. He'd thrust down their vampiric
"Hello, Tony," purred Rebekah.
"Ms. Rebekah…" Tony started.
A slight lip curl of the only female Mikaelson appeared. The amused flicker shone in her eyes, before a misplaced calm expression blanketed over her face.
"Where is your sister?" she demanded.
Tony shrugged.
He didn't know anything. Why did all the Mikaelsons assume his sister let him know about her secret plans?
Elena neglected him at every major event in his life. As did Jeremy, although when he was younger he held little control over those particular decisions. It, however, was inexcusable for his parents to carve out that selfish Gilbert example on how to praise one child, ignore the other and give some to the youngest.
Birthdays were ignored. His accomplishments left to wilt and decay. Anthony hated both his parents and siblings for their lacking concern, but he was numb to their lackluster concern. Attention eluded and intrigued him. He often wondered what his life would be like. He might be the gay male equivalent of Elena and have two hot male vampires fight for his heart.
…Oh, God no. He'd rather gouge out his eyes.
That was just pathetic.
Who could stomach playing with people like that? Without any regard for their feelings?
"Oh. There she is."
Anthony pivoted his gaze to spot Elena in her long dress.
"Your sister loves attaching herself to any Salvatore, she can get her hands on."
"Yeah, basically her central character trait,"
Rebekah chortled. "See you around, Gilbert." She said with a wink.
Anthony shook his head.
All these Mikaelsons were stressing him out.
Maybe he should cool off somewhere…
Anthony wandered off to the less crowded side
He sighed in a gulp of air.
"La lumière entre ici et accueille les ténèbres. La nature vous appelle et vous désire. Viens, dur et rapide. Votre lumière doit être sombre, car l'obscurité a besoin de la lumière. Je te supplie de venir à moi. Je suis ton serviteur loyal. Je suis à vous."
The light filtered in the room. The brightness overwhelmed the wall, before the darkness returned and overtook the space. A swirl appeared between the two opposing forces that clashed and then merged into a beautiful combination of them.
"Hello, there."
Anthony turned to see the source of the smooth voice that graced the air. The mystery man stood before him, his face tipped up in an arrogant smirk.
Was he related to Klaus?
''Hi,'' said Anthony hesistantly.
The mystery roamed over Anthony with a deep, unyielding interest and admiration.
''That's a unique spell you just did. Don't you know most witches consult with the spirits before they play with magic like that?''
''I know.''
''You sure?''
Anthony nodded.
''Who are you?'' asked Kol.
''Anthony. Anthony Henry Gilbert. And you?''
''Kol. Mikaelson.''
''Oh.''
'You were talking to my brother. I hope he didn't lead you on thinking you could protect you?''
''No. I care take of myself.''
'Hm. That's good to know.''
''Is there something I can help you with?''
Kol smirked at him. ''Not at the moment.''
''Then…why are you here ?''
'I've been watching you.''
What?
That wasn't at all creepy.
''Why?''
Kol shrugged. ''I was bored. And it doesn't hurt when you spot a pretty little thing.''
Anthony blushed.
Kol winked at him.
Anthony ducked his head to hide a growing smile.
'This party is getting dull. Come with me.''
'I don't even know you.''
Kol shrugged. ''Suite yourself, darling. I was going to show you some spells you might be interested in.''
Kol turned around and began to walk away. Anthony sighed.
Why did have to be filled with burning curiosity ? Sasha was obviously rubbing off on him.
''Wait.''
Kol craned his neck back. ''Yes, darling.''
''Where are we going ?''
Kol smirked. ''A place.''
Anthony rolled his eyes.
Why were all the Mikaelsons such teases ?
''Lead the way.''
''Come on darling,''
Anthony allowed the mysterious Mikaelson to lead him from his solitary location to rejoin with the teaming masses of loud irritating people. He watched as Sasha leaned into Klaus and then danced with him across the floor. Her face etched in irritation and anger.
Anthony withheld a snigger.
Anthony's eyes latched on to a singular person in the crowd.
A dark haired white pretty middle-aged (about late 30s) woman watched Anthony with a strange tense expression; she stood next to a few chatty adults. Her eyes were eerily similar to his own. He forcefully pushed down that upsettling dread that spiraled out into his innards. Anthony Gilbert permitted Kol to lead him away from the ball.
**The French phrase roughly translates into "Light enter here and welcome the darkness. Nature calls and desires you. Come, harsh and quick. Your light needs dark, dark needs light."
**The Latin phrase also roughly translates into "I beg you to come to me. I am your loyal servant. I am yours."