A/N: So I am very much aware I've been shameless and need to update my other Klonnie fic (after I get over my writer's block) but this idea's been tormenting me for a while so I indulged, because these two do things to me. I hope you enjoy it!
1. l'hiver
In the wintry light, her dress looked soft blue. Her face, peach-like, reminded him of old women, sitting by the fire. She was lovely, in a common sense. Her flesh had a healthy pallor, running with warm blood.
It was time to take a new wife.
To drink was not enough. To trick and drink and slaughter was what he needed.
Elena liked the touch of her new dress. The folds seemed to ripple like water. Her father had indulged her on the occasion. It was not every day a girl turned twenty. Ripe, almost too ripe, for marriage.
Her sister, Caroline, was only a year younger, but she was already in the midst of a formal engagement. The Italian nobleman courting her was taking things at a leisurely pace. Elena was hoping to be married in time with her sister.
Bonnie was only a girl of eighteen who liked to cut herbs and play with animals. She lived to serve the two sisters whom she loved dearly. She was no family to them. Their father had brought her home one evening in a bundle from the sea. Her skin was honey, theirs was milk. She had been faithful throughout the years, and they had been kind.
She had every reason to expect Lord Mikaelson would make Elena an offer of marriage, judging from his constant visits to the house.
She had never seen him in person, but the servants said he looked like night.
Late one evening, in the second week of their engagement, Elena made her request while he escorted her home. She told him she wanted to bring a maid to the castle after the wedding.
"You understand, my love. It is hard for me to leave my family and move to such a remote place, wondrous as it may be."
I feel the fear in your bones and it delights me, he thought.
He cupped her chin and brushed his thumb roughly over her lip.
"It is wondrous, sweetling. And it shall be yours. Are you sure you wish another to see it?"
"Bonnie has been at my side since I was a child. I trust her with my life. I'd very much like to have her with me."
He did not recall the name or the face, but he had heard of a brown-skinned girl in the house of his future bride.
His dark eyes shone like amber. "You trust her with your life? Has your life ever been in her hands?"
"No," Elena admitted. "But if it ever were, she would save me."
Klaus looked beyond her into the red upholstery of the carriage, where dark shadows mingled and disappeared.
"Will you allow it, my love?" Elena asked once more.
The servant would die with her mistress.
"I will."
The wedding was a quiet affair. Bonnie had expected more pomp, more festivities. Everything was somber. The church was cold and the candles flickered to extinction. The procession to the Gilbert house was small and downcast. The guests did not laugh. There was little dancing. But you could see the couple only had eyes for each other.
Lord and Lady Mikaelson walked hand in hand everywhere, shared secret smiles. Bonnie had not been able to catch Elena's eye once. She could not say what kind of man he was. Lord Mikaelson was a key, not a door. He was handsome, but dark. Loving, it seemed, but narrow.
She had encountered men like him in many drawing rooms, in many corridors, walking past her, handing her their hats or gloves, staring at her but not seeing anyone.
She went to her old room to take down her little baggage. Unexpectedly, Bonnie sat down on her warm bed and cried. She was leaving home too.
The wedding carriage had been drawn at the foot of the stairs. It was sumptuous white, twice its usual size. A pumpkin in disguise. Dark stallions breathed out the midnight air. Foam glistened on their lips. The driver was frozen in his seat. And a lantern was swinging from the roof, its light falling slantly on the snow below.
The father bade his child be good, kissed her brow, squeezed her hands, but let her go. He shook hands with Lord Mikaelson and smiled broadly. Caroline embraced her sister.
Bonnie stood aside, swallowing her tears. She had drawn the winter cloak over her head.
Elena took hold of her husband's elbow, but before leaving the house, she dragged Bonnie with her.
Hot bricks and blankets stuffed the carriage. It was unbearably warm. Elena wanted to untie her corset. She took off cloak and shawl. Bonnie sat in the furthest corner and kept her hood over her eyes, watching closely for a signal from her mistress. She wished she was sitting atop the carriage with the driver, watching the snow fall on her shoulders.
Lord Mikaelson stretched his arms across the canapé until his waistcoat seemed to tear. His gold-hued hair shone like money in the frosted window.
"Sweet wife," he said.
Elena gave him her hand, but in a flurry of motion, he grabbed her waist and pulled her to him.
Bonnie bit her lip and looked down into the folds of her cloak.
His hands encircled her neck and let her head dangle idly from his fingers, like a noose around a sinner's throat. His mouth hovered over her neck and kissed softly, with promises for more.
"My maid is watching. Be patient."
Lord Mikaelson paused in his ministrations.
"Are you watching us, girl?"
Bonnie shook her head and lowered her hood even more, until only his feet were still visible. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep. She heard Elena's muffled laughter as he whispered soft nothings into her ear.
The lantern had been extinguished. There was no moonlight, only the airy spark of snow on the windows.
His wife was asleep in his arms, half-ravished. The two holes he had pierced on one delicate wrist had been covered skilfully by her long sleeve. They would be healed when they reached the castle.
Her blood tasted fine, but lacked the rigor of his strict regime.
She would taste better before she died.
A clumsy sigh reached his ears. The small creature stirred in her corner. She was waking. He had forgotten her name. Something quaint, a flower.
He could not distinguish her face in the dark, but he saw the whites of her pupils as she lowered the hood and breathed out her suffocation.
It took only a moment for her to realize he was awake, and not asleep like her mistress.
"Shall I take care of Lady Mikaelson?" she asked softly.
"No. You shall not. I am her care-giver now." His hands lay possessively over his wife's bridal hips.
The girl had already extended a hand, but drew it back quickly.
"What may I do to please, then, my Lord?"
"You may choose." Saying so, he tapped his cane against the roof of the carriage twice, and gently, the wheels rolled down to a standstill.
The driver hopped down and opened one of the doors, letting in the white winter air.
The girl gulped hungrily.
"You may leave on foot, return to the Gilberts and resume your happy life there. Or you may continue on this path with your mistress. I give you this choice because you do not belong to me, and therefore, do not matter to me. Consider yourself lucky."
Bonnie watched Elena's chest rise and fall peacefully under the ambrosia-dipped chin of her husband. She saw the drizzled white road that stretched beyond the carriage, empty but well-trodden. She was tempted to pull her cloak over her head and jump out, leaving behind the faint smell of oranges, leather and...something else. A metallic scent, almost like blood.
She was tempted.
But she only said,
"My mistress will get cold."
"Yes, she will," he replied and tapped his cane against the roof. The door was shut.
Her future was in this carriage. She watched him disentangle Elena from his arms, like a child dismembering a doll. He placed the doll on the opposite seat and smiled to himself.
Bonnie could hear Elena's soft, unconcerned breathing. But she could not hear his.
She turned away and fought the shadows lurking under her eyelids. The journey was long, endless.