An AU in which Kol Mikaelson was never daggered, and things change rather significantly. OC/Kol, witchy shenanigans, unrepentant murder, and hippie-new age mothers.
"Mom!" Ella shouted, pouting at the messily stocked cupboard in front of her. "I can't find the toadflax!" She continued, rummaging around the jars and glass bottles like the toadflax would suddenly appear. Which it wouldn't. Because it hadn't in the last ten minutes, and really, if something was going to happen, it would happen in the first ten minutes. Witch Law of the Universe #546.
(Murphy's Law was Witch Law of the Universe #1, because hey. Why fix what isn't broken?)
"We ran out, remember?" Rory shouted back, probably from the base of the stairs, "I used the last of it to turn Garrett into a pig!"
Ella sighed, though she wasn't exactly upset. Garrett deserved pig-dom. Though, if it had been up to Ella, she would've turned him into a pigeon. Or a seagull, even, though pig did have it's own poetic irony, so.
"What are you trying to make?" Rory asked, closer this time. Ella looked over her shoulder to see her mother standing in the doorway, mixing bowl filled with cookie batter in hand. Ella spared a brief smile, because Rory Warren was always baking. It was a wonder neither of them were the size of Pluto. Speaking of, she needed to check the planetary alignment tonight - Grandma Lony said the stars were good, but she was a bit off, and Ella didn't really trust her judgment. She'd said the stars were good when she'd brought home Eric, and that had turned out terrible.
Evil little cat.
"I was thinking of making a sleeping potion," she mused, tilting her head at the cupboard. Surely she could substitute with something else. Toadstool, maybe?
"Try an extra newt eye," Rory suggest. "What do you need a sleeping potion for?" she asked, excited. "Ooh, a teacher, maybe? Planning on putting someone into a prolonged coma so you can study for your math test? Or is it less academic? Fellow student after your man?" her voice got more manic as she went on, and Ella sighed.
"She'd need a man for that last one," Grandma Lony pointed out snidely, sniffing superiorly. "Why, when I was fifteen, I already had Henry in my grasp. You're slacking, Ella - keep this up and you'll be alone forever," her grandmother intoned, wagging a finger at her in emphasis.
"Grandpa Henry killed you, Grams," she pointed out, grabbing the jar of newt eyes. Rory had always been better at potions than her, anyways, so newt eyes would probably work better than toadstool.
"Semantics," Grandma waved off her words, transparent hand phasing through the wind chimes Rory had hung from the ceiling as soon as they'd moved in. ("They should bring us some good luck," Rory smiled, "Or at least warn us of when the bad luck is coming.")
"You didn't answer my questions, Ella," Rory whined, pouting. "Is it a boy? Math teacher? C'mon, tell me."
"School hasn't even started, mom," she laughed, "It's not a math teacher -"
"Any kind of teacher?"
"Not yet," Ella shrugged, "I figure it's better to have a sleeping potion on hand than not. Just in case."
"Always thinking ahead," Grandma Lony complained, "Can't ever live in the moment, can you?" she bemoaned, "How you ever came fro my bloodline, I'll never know."
"I can live in the moment!" Ella defended, flipping open her Grimoire and setting it next to the family one (the family Grimoire had a nasty attitude, always complaining about dust and hard tables, so Ella preferred copying things down into her own, because it didn't have an attitude. Yet.)
"She can," Rory agreed, "Just last week she had a spur of the moment shopping spree," she pointed with her wooden spoon at the shirt Ella was wearing, "She got that."
"Oh, pish, it's shopping. When was the last time you made a sacrifice to the gods, Cinderella?" Ella winced at the use of her full name, years of getting picked on in school making her hate the damned thing. "And not just a sheep, I mean an honest to god murder? Never!" Lony continued, not even waiting for an answer, "What kind of witch are you? It's no wonder your luck is terrible, -"
"Oh, it's not that bad," Rory cut it, "She hasn't been attacked by a mountain troll in months, I think it's a new record." Ella hissed at the mention of mountain trolls, nose scrunching up in distaste. Nasty little things that looked exactly like those ugly little dolls with the wacky hair. They were like gnomes, only worse.
Ella settled on ignoring the bickering duo, Grandma Lony arguing that the lack of attacks only meant something worse was coming and Rory insisting it meant that things were finally looking up. If Ella were the blaming type, she'd blame her mother for all her unfortunate luck, because with a name like Cinderella, there could be no good karma.
But she wasn't, so.
Opening up the family grimoire, she wasn't surprised when one of the pages viciously bit at her finger. (Bad attitude, just like she said.)
The sleeping potion was surprisingly easy, all things considered. The Animal Transformation potion was more complicated. "Water base, first," she muttered, grabbing one of the Aquafina bottles Rory kept stocked for just that reason ("Aquafina works so much better than Dasani," Rory told her, "Nasty stuff, that.")
She dropped in three newt eyes, watching critically as the water bubbled into an ugly brown.
"Ooh, that's a good color," Rory cooed, peeking over her shoulder. Ella jerked, not having noticed that the two of them had stopped arguing.
"Yeah, yeah, she got lucky," Lony snarked, floating her way around the perimeter of the attic. Not for the first time, Ella thought about taking the old bat's ashes and burying them in some random cemetery. Somehow, she'd find a way back, and Ella would never hear the end of it.
"Nightshade, now," Rory sung, pulling out a tiny glass figurine shaped like a unicorn. Ella thought it was ridiculous - essence of unicorn should go in the unicorn shaped glass, not nightshade, but Rory had been adamant. "Lets try liquefied nightshade, never done that before."
Ella obediently uncorked the glass, pouring a few drops in.
"Add more," Lony demanded.
"Add it all," Rory intoned gleefully.
"This is going to kill somebody," Ella sighed, dumping the whole thing into the cauldron.
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Lony sniffed. "Maybe some hemlock root?"
"That's a good idea, do some hemlock root, Ella."
Ella sighed. Added the hemlock root. (Rory would insist on testing out the potion on someone when it was finished, if it didn't blow up in their faces, and Ella was pretty sure it would be her math teacher, because Rory had a funny sense of humor like that.)
Ella pulled her hair into a sloppy bun, resisting the urge to rub the sleep out of her eyes, because it was counterproductive to actually getting to sleep. Refusing the Sandman's help was utter stupidity.
The clock read 3:27, making her groan. The stars had been uncooperative tonight, making any predictions hard, which was a prediction in itself.
Lony had been right.
Something terrible was bound to happen. (Which, in her grandmother's mind, meant that the stars were in good alignment.)
She crawled into bed, tugging her favorite quilt over her head (It was her favorite because it was the one Rory had made for her when she was younger, with all the usefully poisonous mushrooms stitched onto it.) and was out in minutes.
The problem with being a Warren witch is that you either dream, or you dream. The second of which tended to include astral projection, which was - mostly - never fun. Tonight seemed like it was going to be one of those nights for Ella.
She sighed, digging her bare toes into the dirt of the path she found herself standing on. It was surrounded by trees and berry bushes, the moon sitting at half mast in the sky. Ella narrowed her eyes, squinting at Mars. "Why are you so happy?" she grumbled.
Of all the planets, Ella hated Mars the most. It was a stupid planet.
She preferred Pluto (Because it was still a planet no matter what NASA said, and Lony could just go suck a frozen toad, because she through an annual Pluto Isn't A Planet party every year.)
"Who are you?"
Ella shrieked, arms pinwheeling comically as she spun on her heel, nearly tripping over a tree root that had probably been there before and she just hadn't noticed.
A boy stood behind her, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. He had long hair, longer than she was used to seeing unless her mom decided to bring home one of her dates (they never come home twice, but they always had varying degrees of long hair, because Rory had a type.), and the type of bone structure that belonged on the big screen. "But what are you wearing?" she asked in confusion.
"Clothes," he answered dryly, "Something you obviously have no idea of."
Ella looked down quickly, wondering if she was having one of those dreams where you go out in public naked without knowing. But no. She was dressed in sleep shorts with little bunnies on them and a tank top. "These are clothes," she denied, "Certainly not leather like yours, Mr. I Look Like I Belong In Rohan, but they're perfectly good for sleeping."
"What is Rohan?" He shook his head, "No matter, you're clearly not asleep, which makes those unsuitable," and then, more quietly, "Though how you ever thought them suitable, I don't know. Come winter you'll be lucky not to catch frost bite.
"My name is Kol, Son of Mikael," he introduced, offering her a small bow. "And might I ask your name?"
Ella figured he'd ask either way. "Yes."
There was a small, awkward beat of silence. Kol huffed, sounding amused. "And what is your name, then, my lady?"
"Ella," she offered, then, remembering his introduction, "Daughter of Arora."
"Are you a bastard, then?" he asked curiously, finally closing the distance between them to stand closer on the path to her. "It would explain some things," he muttered, looking at her bare legs distrustfully.
"A what? Excuse you," she snapped, waving a hand down by her thighs to capture his attention. He looked back up at her face, an unrepentant grin on his face.
"Your parents, were they wed?"
"Oh," she sniffed, still somewhat insulted he'd called her a bastard, even if he didn't seem to put the same meaning to it that she did. "Mother doesn't believe in marriage. Says it's a method of imperialism, I don't know, I never really listen when she starts ranting," she shrugged.
Rory had some strange ideas, which Ella could understand. Henry had killed Lony when Rory had been three; being raised by a dad who constantly tried to kill your dead mother was bound to have some effects. Rory turned out somewhat normal, considering. Ella figured that in two generations or so (pending unexpected variables) the Warren family would be a seminormal family of witches.
"Imper - what? No, nevermind that. What are you doing out in the woods? It's dangerous, especially for a woman. You're lucky the wolves aren't out tonight." Kol sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.
"Especially for a woman?" she repeated, puffing out her cheeks in irritation. "Excuse you, but I can take a walk whenever I damn well want to, middle of the night or not. Not like you have room to talk, you're out here, too," she frowned. "And I'm not scared of wolves."
"Then you're new," he responded dryly, completely ignoring the rest of what she'd said. The ass. "You have a place to go, then, yes? Let me walk you there." He held out his hand, expectant. Ella opened her mouth, to tell him that she didn't have a place to stay, but that was fine, because she'd just wander the woods until she woke up, when she heard.
"What is that?" Kol asked, taking a few steps past her so he could brace himself in front of her. Ella blinked in surprise.
"Wind chimes," she whispered, "Bad omens." And then she ran after the sound, knowing that consciousness waited with it. Kol shouted behind her, tree branches and bushes rustling as he followed her.
Ella could see the cliff edge of waterfall, and knew immediately that was where she needed to go. "Wonderful," she sighed, "Good thing I'm not scared of heights," and then jumped, consciousness slamming into her just as she hit the water.
Her bedroom was lighter than when she'd fallen asleep, the sky an ugly grey that preluded the dawn. The clock on her nightstand blinked 5:30. She scrambled out of bed, feet getting caught in her quilt and making her stumble.
The stairs were right next to her bedroom, and she took them two at a time until she reached the attic Rory and Lony were already there, both watching the wind rattle the windchime as it wobbled precariously on it's hook. The bay windows that had been closed were know open, letting in the violent wind.
Ella came to a stop at the doorway, the wind stopping as she did. Everything was quiet until Grandma Lony let out a triumphant noise. "I knew it!" she shouted, "Bad luck, what did I say?" she cackled, "Better get out your murder kit, sweetie, 'cause you're gonna need it!"
Lony disappeared in a whisp of smoke, her cackle echoing across the ceiling.
Rory sighed, closing the windows with a wave of her hand. "I hate it when she does the cackle," she compained. Ella hummed in agreement.
"Want some eggs for breakfast?" she asked, like getting an omen of bad fortune was an everyday thing. Ella sighed, because they'd gotten one last week the morning mom went out with Garrett.
"Can we have french toast, instead?"
"Sure thing," Rory agreed flippantly.
AN: Like all my stuff, this is a work in progress. Generally, I wouldn't post it, but I have more than normal written down, so I figured, hey. Why not? Anyways, read, review, whatever.
