A.N. – Thank you to everyone who's followed/faved/reviewed so far! You guys are amazing :) On another note, I was wondering if any of you guys listen to the songs I often include with my chapters. I'll still include them either way, but I'm curious. As always, please read, review, and enjoy.


Songs: Gnash – I Hate You, I Love You

Garbage – Control

Sweat rolled down Belle's face as she crouched down, one hand planted firmly into the floor below her for balance, staring down a burly young vampire. He grunted, mirroring her stance and prepared to pounce at a moment's notice.

Her lips twisted up into a cunning grin as she watched his every move, analyzing him to determine what exactly his next one would be. "Okay," she said, "give me your best shot, meat head." Her grin widened as she prepared herself to stop the oncoming blow.

He lunged forward, ramming his shoulder into her chest and knocking her off her feet, but Belle retaliated almost immediately, rolling to the right to avoid the next blow. She reached back onto the mat with both hands and propelled herself up and onto her feet. A millisecond later, she had the baby vamp pinned beneath her, her toned forearm pressing into his chest with a surprising amount of strength.

"You're getting better, Bruce," she praised him. Belle stood and leaned forward, offering him a hand. Bruce grinned and gingerly accepted.

"Thanks, Tinkerbell. You're a pretty good trainer."

She rolled her eyes and swatted at his absurdly muscular arm, fighting back a smile.

She had started working at Marcel's gym about two weeks earlier, looking for something to distract her from...well, everything. From the curse. From missing Blade. From being ignored by her sister. From Klaus. Marcel had offered her a position as a trainer for the city's newer, and even older, vampires as a sort of olive branch between them. It had surprised her, of course, but she accepted the opportunity as soon as he had offered it.

"Hey, Tink," Marcel called. Belle was seriously regretting telling them about that old nickname; an ex of hers had coined it years before.

She turned to face him expectantly. "Yeah?"

"You've got a visitor."

Lucien strolled in behind him, a wide grin on his face and a slip of paper and a single red rose in one hand. He raked his eyes over her figure, from her tight black leggings to her matching cropped t-shirt; whether it was a genuine action, or simply for show, she didn't know. She laughed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes; he was laying on the whole pretend boyfriend thing pretty thick. "Forgive me, miss, but I'm looking for a Belinda Campbell. She looks a lot like you, actually, but far less sweaty and gross." He laughed, handing her the rose.

She took it and chuckled, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "Jerk." She eyed the paper in his hand. It was a card, an invitation from what she could read from its cover. "What's that?"

"I've been invited to dine with the Mikaelsons this evening for Thanksgiving dinner. And, seeing as how I've been explicitly asked by Klaus not to invite you to the affair, I thought I would ask you personally to accompany me tonight."

She smiled – genuinely, and nodded with enthusiasm. "Well, what girl doesn't dream of gatecrashing her ex fiancé's Thanksgiving."

Shortly after Lucien left, Belle headed home and hopped in the shower. It was already 3:00 and dinner started at 6:30, sharp. Tonight she would look her absolutely best, hoping to remind Klaus of what exactly it was that he was missing. She was running out of time; it was time to fight dirty.

She knew that the rational thing would be to just tell Klaus about her situation and her residual feelings, but she didn't want him to be with her out of pity. Or worse, reject her out of lingering resentment, regardless of whether she was a dead woman or not. The latter was more frightening, and more likely.

Her train of thought came to a halt as she noticed what looked like blood mixing with the water the flowed down the shower drain. Frantically, she checked her body for cuts. Finding nothing, she check her mouth and nose, even her eyes and ears for blood, but still found nothing. She was perfectly fine. So where was the red color coming from?

Suddenly, she came up with a hunch, and checked her shampoo bottle. Sure enough, the formerly white concoction was tinted a purplish-red color. She shut off the water and flashed to the mirror only to find that her hair, her beautiful raven hair, was dyed red. It was subtle, but she wouldn't stand for this childish and immature prank.

"Son of a bitch!" she shouted. She put on her robe and stomped out of the bathroom to show Lucien the damage.

"What is going on?" Lucien headed out of his room, stopping in his tracks as he caught sight of Belle's Little Mermaid locks. "Woah," he exclaimed, before bursting out into laughter.

"Shut up, you ass! Look what that whore, Aurora, did to me! My poor virgin hair," she exclaimed. "I look like a bloody tampon!"

This, to her dismay, only made him laugh harder. He leaned forward, holding his stomach; she could tell he was laughing far harder than he needed to, simply to piss her off even more.

She turned and marched off to her room, dressing herself in seconds and heading for the door, keys in hand.

"Where are you going?" Lucien asked, finally sobering.

"To the salon to get this train-wreck fixed. How the hell did she even get in here to put dye in my shampoo?"

At this, Lucien's laughter ceased all together and he let out a long, exaggerated sigh. "Well..."

"What, Lucien?" she snapped.

"You see, Aurora came over earlier, to give me the invitation, and we started talking, I invited her in, etcetera, etcetera. I guess she snuck off and put the dye in when I was,"

"Wait, you guys are still friends?" Belle scoffed. "Why wasn't I aware of this? I mean, you would think it was relevant enough to tell me, given that we're in on this little scheme together and all."

Lucien shrugged, a smirk creeping onto his handsome features. "Well, you have your romantic scheme, and I have mine."

"Oh my god, are you in love with her?" She scoffed in disbelief. "How? She's so annoying, and immature, and,"

"Enough," he blurted. From the look on his face she could tell that she had upset him by upsetting his alleged love. "I don't question your feelings for Klaus. Don't question mine for Aurora. Sometimes we just..." he trailed off, lost for words. She could see the love and devotion that shone in his eyes like the brightest of stars in the night sky.

"Fall for people without meaning to. For the littlest and yet most enchanting things," she finished for him. He nodded. "Okay, well now I understand your willingness to help me with this little romantic endeavor." She couldn't help but smile. Someone as maddening as Aurora needed someone like Lucien, someone tame to reign in her madness. And, as charming as he was, she was sure he could aid her in their joined mission by seducing Aurora, so long as she stopped acting like she was still in love with Klaus.

Aurora didn't know him; she only knew the man he had been a thousand years before. But it was Belle who truly knew his heart, who knew the man he was now.

In that moment, it dawned on her. She knew how to win Klaus back. The first step would be the hardest for her, but it was the most crucial: admitting her fault and asking – begging, if need be, for his forgiveness.

After an emergency trip to the hair salon, Belle returned to Lucien's penthouse and got ready. She put on a plum-colored jumpsuit and matching heels, straightened her freshly dyed hair and put on a little makeup. She headed out into the main room and found Lucien standing by the front door clad in an all black suit. She couldn't help but marvel at him for a moment or two; he did look quite handsome. Not that he wasn't a good-looking man, just that she had never really noticed before.

"There's a car waiting downstairs for us," Lucien said, flashing her a quick smile.

She nodded. "Fantastic," she said flatly.

When they were standing in the elevator, she could feel his eyes on her, and couldn't help but blush under his gaze. Her head was swimming with new, confusing thoughts, but she quickly drowned them. She had more important things to worry about.

They got in the car and arrived at the Abattoir shortly. Belle wasn't the slightest bit nervous as she strode in through the front door, head held high. She and Lucien walked in together, her hand on his arm.

The room looked like autumn had thrown up everywhere: the railings of the staircases were lined with lights and orange leaves, the fountain was filled with more leaves, mums, and a few seasonal gourds, and vases of orange and red flowers were scattered around the room and placed on the table. The open bar, however, did look rather appealing, but Belle wasn't about to let alcohol skew her judgement; she had a plan to set into motion, after all.

The other guests had already arrived by then. Some were seated around the table, sipping at either wine or water, while others stood and talked quietly, waiting for dinner to begin. She quickly took note of everyone in the room: Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, Hayley, Freya, Aurora, Tristan, Marcel, and, to her surprise, Audrey. She assumed that Hope and Blade were upstairs napping; she'd go visit them after dinner, assuming no one tried to kick her out before then. She had no idea why Klaus wasn't down yet. She figured he would have been the ringleader of this little circus.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered under her breath as she watched Klaus saunter down the stairs. His eyes fell almost immediately on her, and on her hold on Lucien; he scowled, but said nothing. In fact, he ignored her all together. "Lucien, so glad you could make it," he said, forcing a smile. Lucien smiled with his mouth closed, nodding in Klaus's direction. Klaus stepped down from the final stair and cleared his throat, gaining everyone else's attention. "Well, now that everyone's here, let's get started."

Appetizers were passed around and everyone was making small talk, seeming to break off into smaller groups and private conversations. The tension thick, but everyone pretended not to notice.

Belle had taken a seat beside Hayley, engaging in a halfhearted conversation about the plans for her and Elijah's wedding. Long story short, there were none yet. Hayley said that they were in no rush to tie the knot, but Belle noticed something in Hayley's eyes that made her doubt her words; it looked an awful lot like uncertainty. She would speak with Hayley privately another time.

Belle could feel Tristan's eyes burning a hole in the side of her head. She knew he had something to say, probably about Max. She was in no mood to address his condolences or to answer his questions, so she quickly shot him down. "Tristan, if you say what I think you're planning to say to me I swear to God I will punch you in the face."

"Actually, I wasn't going to mention Max," he said smoothly before taking a bite of his green beans.

"Oh," she muttered into her water glass. She set it down and cleared her throat, trying to distract herself from the nauseating way Aurora was looking at Klaus and how he was looking back at her with the same, lovestruck expression. She wanted to slap it off his face. "So, Tristan, how's life? It's been what, twenty years since we last spoke."

"Twenty-three," he said, averting her gaze. "And I've been well enough, not that you have any real concern." He seemed angry, probably from the whole 'punch you in the face' bit, so she didn't press him further. He was right, after all; she didn't really care.

However, there was one person in particular whom she did, in fact, want to speak with at that moment. "Audrey, how've you been? I haven't seen you since,"

"Since you came back into town. Yeah, I know," Audrey snapped, glaring from the opposite side of the table. Marcel squeezed her hand, but that didn't seem the squelch her anger. "I've been waiting for my apology."

Belle couldn't help but scoff. "Your apology? I'm sorry, I didn't realize that I owed you one." Her words came off harsher than she had meant them to, but she was honestly just surprised. She had known Audrey was mad, but apologizing? Was that necessary?

The room fell silent as Belle continued. "It's true, there are so many things I need to apologize for, but what the hell did I do to you?" Her anger was showing through. Practically everyone else in that damned room was against her, but why was her own sister hell bent on choosing this moronic anger over peace?

"I'm not surprised," Klaus said from his seat at the head of the table.

"Brother," Elijah warned, sitting opposite of Klaus.

Klaus gave him a silent warning to stay out of this. "You've burned a lot of bridges," he said.

"And so have you," Belle countered. "What's your point?" She sipped from a gold-rimmed glass of blood and she eyed him.

Klaus scoffed. "My point is that it would appear that you've got your head so far up your ass that you can't see how wrong you really are. You've wronged many in your day, including your own family, but, of course, you aren't willing to admit it because you are, as we all know, a coward."

That did it. She stood up, slamming her fists on the table. "Coward? I am not a coward. If I were then I wouldn't admit to you that I'm wrong."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? You're wrong, are you?" Klaus smirked at his own facetious words.

"Of course I am!" she nearly screamed. "I know that I was stupid, that you're right and I'm wrong. I'm not that deeply in denial, Niklaus. I know what I am, I know what I've done, but at least I'm willing to admit it. Are you?" She was shaking as her fury boiled over like a pot that had been left on the stove for too long. She had been holding back her confession for far too long; now the truth was consuming her, crushing her under its weight. Tears quickly filled her eyes, but she held them back. "I know all the wrong that I've done, but I can't take any of it back now. Your anger, is pointless, all of you." She pointed an accusatory finger at everyone at the table, both the guilty and the innocent. "I'm done with trying to explain myself to people who refuse to listen."

"Belle," Lucien said in a quiet, soothing voice. He reached out to grab her by the arm, but she pulled away and turned to leave.

She paused and turned back them as she headed for the door. A single tear slipped down her cheek. "I'm tired of apologizing." With that, she left and slammed the door violently. She could still hear them talking about her outburst as she walked away.

That night, she prowled the busy streets of New Orleans endlessly, walking every inch of the French Quarter three times over before deciding to go back to Lucien's. She hoped he wouldn't want to talk about what happened at dinner, because she wasn't in the mood. Her anger had turned into dread in the hours since her explosion and all she wanted was to forget about the whole thing.

She checked the clock on her phone as she got out of the elevator; it was just past ten; Lucien was probably still awake, waiting for her to return. She opened the doors and passed through the threshold. Lucien must have heard her; he was on his feet, standing just a few feet away. His mouth was open, but he said nothing. His eyes were filled with concern. She couldn't bear to look at them.

"I don't want to talk about it, Lucien," she said, turning away to close the door behind her.

He walked toward her slowly, like he was planning each step before he took it. "Then don't." He now stood just inches away from her, and stopped.

Belle turned to face him fully again, her eyes cautiously meeting his. She could feel his warm breath as he looked down at her. There was a look in his eyes, one that had never been there before. Suddenly, she didn't feel distraught anymore. Another, more powerful, feeling took hold.

Instinct took over as she leapt into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her lips crashed against his in a rough, bruising kiss, and he kissed her back with just as much enthusiasm. After a few heated seconds, she pulled back for a moment and unbuttoned his shirt in a flash, letting it fall to the floor. She ran her hands over his toned, muscular chest and torso as she went to undo his belt. In an instant, she found herself with her back pressed against Lucien's dining table. He hovered above her, hands planted firmly on the surface below them, with the embers of lust burning brightly in his eyes like the sun itself. Belle eagerly pulled him back down to her, needing the closeness.

And after a little while, the night just...got away from them.