A.N.: So I've been binge-watching True Blood and wouldn't you know it, Daniel Gillies was in an episode! Sadly not in bed with Alcide, but…a girl can dream vividly.

So the inspiration for Adélaïde (mentioned later) is the character Naomi Laress in Kresley Cole's novel Dark Needs at Night's Edge, which I adore.

I have a theory that there couldn't just be two doppelgängers over a millennium: If one was alive, surely there had to be another alive, at the same time, as insurance in case the other died before the sacrifice could be attempted, or their bloodline ended?


Machiavelli's Daughter

07

Memory Lane


By the time the sky bruised into a vivid sunrise of intense amethyst and burning fuchsia, the birds were chirping surreptitiously in the creek, dew shimmered in the meadow, beams of copper light filtering through the trees, and Giulia wandered through the wildflowers, diaphanous skirts trailing after her, a dark slash in a vibrant world.

He lingered by the gatepost, watching, listening to her heartbeat, to her soft humming as she trailed her hands through the long grasses and wildflowers starting to unfurl. She was relaxed and content, and didn't think twice about wandering across the countryside, barefoot in her evening-gown, wearing her diamonds and a wistful smile as she disappeared from his sight, her heels swinging from her fingertips.

The world was waking up, birds singing, the insects already starting to tick. A breeze gentled what promised to be an exhaustingly hot day.

The world was waking up; and Giulia was drifting off to bed.

His family showed no signs of needing sleep: Kol had them wound up, and Elijah could hear his siblings' incessant laughter and chatter as they caught up.

"She will return," said a voice, and it was achingly familiar and yet alien. He hadn't heard it for a long time; but the sound immediately invoked memories he had long ago abandoned the effort of suppressing - too much time had passed; new trauma had replaced the old. And his brother's voice had been forgotten to history.

Nine centuries, he had not spent time with Finn. His favourite brother.

Now, he understood why Klaus had never removed the silver dagger.

Finn had confronted Klaus with the truth of their mother's murder.

The Natives hadn't recorded that in the caves; earlier, the conversation had turned to the caves, the ancient artwork detailing the history of their family. The ancient pictograms Giulia had discovered while researching a school assignment, and shown Elijah when she pieced together his memories and the images. The truth. Niklaus' first, abiding betrayal.

Finally, the truth about Finn's interminable imprisonment: He had confronted Klaus, alone.

The rest was history - rather, Finn was lost to their family history, a name they threw about as they sometimes did Henrik, a memory…nothing more.

Elijah had left his brother desiccating for nine centuries, believing…it was better than enduring the life Elijah and his other siblings had suffered at their half-brother's hands, his whims and cruelty forging their fates.

Perhaps Finn had escaped the brutality of Niklaus' devolution; but he had missed out on nine centuries of a bond with the rest of his family…albeit dysfunctional.

He had seen the look in Finn's eye as he watched their siblings: Finn did not recognise them.

They had evolved: Finn had been left behind.

Time for Elijah stood still when he was daggered. It happened to them all: No matter how often they were daggered, they still woke expecting time to have stood still with them. It never did.

Shame over his neglect of his favourite brother filled Elijah. After seeing Giulia…he was scrubbed raw, for the first time in centuries. Shock, despair, crippling grief, debilitating joy, giddy euphoria, and shame. Shame for his neglect. Despair, for having not realised sooner that Niklaus had lied, had engineered their vow to protect himself, a millennium ago.

Niklaus had murdered their mother and his first instinct had been to lie; to turn it on Mikael, feeding on their heightened emotions, the strain in the family, their dread of the father who had murdered them.

A thousand years ago, Niklaus had manipulated them: And had continued to punish them for their loyalty.

Elijah turned to his brother, doing a double-take, frowning. Finn wore a t-shirt with frayed edges, grass-stained jeans, barefoot and holding two cups of coffee, one of which was offered to Elijah. Elijah frowned at the cup, disconcerted. It was strange to see Finn in modern clothing; but he could not actually remember what Finn had looked like the last time they saw each other. Taller than Elijah, there was a sharpness to Finn's features, a wariness and expectation Elijah almost remembered from their time as humans, when they had been always vigilant against threats, warriors to their core as much as farmers, raised to provide, and to viciously protect what was theirs by toil and by conquest. It was a warrior's bearing; he had a farmer's battered hands, and he had dirt under his fingernails just as Elijah remembered. His own were spotless, and his fingertips seemed to burn at the realisation that he had not worked the earth for centuries, except as a hobby.

Automatically, he accepted the steaming drink. It smelled delicious, rich and slightly citrus, with delicate undertones of cocoa. The fine bone-china cup and saucer were simple and elegant - Giulia's sleek, timeless taste. She had renovated the house; and secured his family there, giving them the most precious commodity, time, to rehabilitate, to strengthen bonds strained by eternity together.

His brother was offering him a cup of coffee. For the first time in ages, he felt overdressed, standing beside Finn, his clothes smelling of earth and hard-work and sunshine. Finn smelled the way he used to; unbidden, memories of their first, mortal, hardest lifetime swept over Elijah, memories of boat-building, looking after his growing family, sharing the back-breaking farm-work with Finn.

"She always returns," Finn said, glancing across the meadow, where Giulia had disappeared. Only the winding trail of bent grasses left evidence that Giulia had not been a figment of Elijah's imagination.

"She was dead, the last time I saw her," Elijah said hoarsely. Mere days ago, he had seen the burned-out husk that had once been a vibrant young-woman. And yet she had sat inside the house, sipping cocktails, smiling contentedly.

"And now she is not," Finn said quietly. "As sire to vampires surely the sensation is not unusual to you."

"She burned as a vampire, Finn," Elijah told him, and was thrown off, realising they had been speaking the Old Language - he hadn't spoken it in centuries, not since the last time he had lived with Lagertha. "She should not have survived."

"Neither should we," Finn said heavily. He drained his coffee-cup. "Come. Take off your finery. Work will distract you."

"Work?"

"Giulia has me working at an educational farm," Finn said, and Elijah, perhaps easier out of everyone, could see how desperately his brother wanted to be seen as assimilating well to this new, unnerving time. As if it was nothing.

Their family preyed on vulnerability: It was ingrained. Ever since Niklaus…

Frowning, Elijah followed Finn back into the house, to the bedroom Finn had taken as his own. It was sparse, compared to Gyda's and Isak's: Piles of children's books in English, and carvings. They had both been expert woodworkers: Elijah had been a boat-builder, Finn had carved furniture, toys for Elijah's children. What little Finn had to his name was neatly organised, meticulously looked after: Of all of them, the gentle giant Finn had never forgotten to respect his belongings, the way Rebekah thought nothing of compelling a girl to slit her own throat for the necklace draped around it. Finn, Elijah, they respected their possessions, remembering the times when the tunic on their backs had taken two seasons to grow the wool and spin into yarn and dye and weave. So Finn's clothing was all neatly arranged in a dresser; but he shared, just as he had always shared when he saw Elijah stretching himself too thin to feed and clothe his expanding family as crops faltered and winter approached.

"Do you remember, brother…living in one tunic and trousers, darning everything until it fell off our backs?"

"I remember everything," Elijah sighed grimly, as Finn handed him faded jeans and a t-shirt. It wasn't that Elijah never wore them; but after seeing Giulia…he felt almost vulnerable without his three-piece suit, his tie perfectly knotted. Over the centuries, the appearance of wealth had become wealth itself, protection, and dressing in finery was a mark of status and strength: Over time, Elijah had developed using his clothing as a defence-mechanism.

The more immaculately he dressed, the more he was trying to suppress his emotions. Buttoning himself up.

Giulia had noticed almost immediately.

"You have changed," Finn said plainly. "I don't recognise my brother."

"I barely recognise myself," Elijah confessed. He could still remember the old Elijah, the human one: but he could barely reconcile that man with the one he was now - the man who gave in and endured his brother's tyranny out of pure exhaustion. It was easier to let Klaus get what he wanted; it was easier to button himself up and keep everyone at arm's length, dreading but resigned to the fates of anyone he had ever become close to.

Elijah stripped off and changed into the casual clothing, uncaring that his brother stood before him: They had grown up in a different time, with a different concept of privacy. Of nudity. He frowned at the children's books. He had noticed several things about the house that almost gentled the transition into modern life: the children's books, even the faux-fur throw over the end of Finn's bed, which was made up with unbleached natural linen sheets.

He had woken to find his daughter, one of his sisters and two of their brothers living together in a house that, to him, merely a week ago had been derelict. Now it was immaculately restored, its gardens established, flourishing: The same care and detail that had gone into the renovation of the house and gardens had apparently been put into the acclimation of his family to the strange, frenzied world into which they had woken.

It was ironic that the one thing their mother had given them without measure, time, was so easily stolen from them: A silver dagger, laced with white oak ash, struck through their hearts… It was time that had been stolen from Elijah, and it was time that Giulia had lavished upon Finn, whom she had awoken, gently guiding his way into the frenzied modern world, teaching him English, giving him the care and attention Elijah remembered she put into every aspect of her life.

"Giulia helped you into the new time," he guessed, and Finn nodded sombrely.

"She awoke me first, before the others," he said quietly, and Elijah raised his eyes to his brother's face, threading his arms through the sleeves of a t-shirt.

"She did?"

"Giulia said she believed I might be left behind if she awoke us together," Finn said quietly. Using the Old Language, speaking to Finn, their phrasing shifted, more old-fashioned: Finn wouldn't know modern terms. There was no accusation in Finn's tone, only sadness, a terrible acceptance. He frowned thoughtfully at Elijah. "How long?"

"How long were you daggered?"

"How long were you daggered?" Finn said, frowning shrewdly.

"Only very briefly," Elijah said quietly, "and not often at all, really."

"You were ever Niklaus' defender."

"I didn't know," Elijah said quietly, staring his brother down. "You should have told me."

"Would you have believed me?" Finn asked gently. Elijah blinked at his favourite brother, his instinct to argue back, incensed. But he deflated: He had left Finn to desiccate for a millennium, nearly. By the time Finn had been daggered, their bond had already been suffering. It had fractured when they fled Marseilles, and, more and more, because of Niklaus' demanding nature, it had been strained: Elijah had become Niklaus' keeper.

"I should never have made you question that I would have," Elijah said, his entire body feeling heavy under the weight of his grief, his guilt, and the exhaustion of whiplash that always came from the dagger being withdrawn from his heart. He had woken with a burning rage directed at Niklaus: Gyda's presence had driven every thought of pursing his half-brother out of his mind.

Seeing Giulia, alive, whole, glorious…

That Niklaus had returned to Mystic Falls with his indentured servant the Ripper of Monterrey was a blip, an afterthought: Elijah did not care to expend the energy to be enraged at Niklaus. The very reasons he had finally committed to act were negated by Giulia removing the daggers from his family's hearts. Knowing what he did about his mother's fate, his brother's part in her murder and the lie he had maintained for a millennium…Elijah simply had no inclination to engage Niklaus whatsoever.

Niklaus had determined their lives for so long, it was…alien, unnerving, and relieving to consciously put himself and his desires first.

He desired to chase after Giulia and take her into his arms and never let her go, demand answers, make her vow never to force him to watch such a scene again as he had endured at the quarry barely five nights ago.

But he didn't.

He repaired his relationship with his brother.

Finn had always been the gentlest, the most forgiving, the most introverted in their family, a calm giant who adored children, fought with a viciousness that stunned, and carried more than his share of the workload without complaint. He should have been a father many times over by the time they were turned into vampires: Naturally shy, he had remained happily in Elijah's shadow, a beloved uncle, almost a second father to Elijah's growing brood of children.

He had not forgotten their origins. In fact, he had always missed them: He missed the honesty of their work. The shield-walls in springtime raids; the excruciating farm-work; earning their right to survive with their own labours. In summer they tended their crops; in winter, Finn helped Elijah build boats. They fished, they hunted for whatever meat could be found in the snows, they broached peace and traded with Native tribes. They adapted to the New World, and for a time, they had thrived. Elijah had become a father; Finn had been content to live on the farm - until Tatia.

If anyone could remind him of the man he had once been, it was Finn, soft-spoken, gentle giant Finn, who had always been hard-working, dependable almost to a fault, unselfish and shy, and painfully honest. Elijah did remember Finn's disappointment and heartbreak at their changing behaviour as the years turned into decades and they slowly but surely started to forget what it had meant to be human, before their concept of family had become so warped.

It was Finn who remembered the landmarks more vividly than Elijah: what had become 'Mystic Falls' had once been their home, a thousand years and thirty lifetimes ago. Elijah had farmed this land, hunted and fished to provide for his family. From the caves, Finn had counted his steps: The jarlshall had stood where now an Edible Farmyard had been started as a brainchild of Giulia for the Unified School District, where the crops were already thriving and Finn tended to his bees, as he had a thousand years ago. Elijah had had a gift with wood, able to see a boat from a living tree; Finn had had his honey mead. He had understood the bees, kept them happy. The most gentle, most patient of them had nurtured something they had always taken for granted, until it was gone.

Giulia had woken Finn first. But more than that, she had given him a place in this new world he had been awoken into. She had given him earth, tools, and time: her time. She used to come to the farm every morning, walking her dogs, and letting them run loose as she picked weeds and watered plants; sometimes she appeared in her running-gear, pink-cheeked and happy, bringing coffee and warm pastries to share. She had given Finn something to do, and she had joined him in the work. She had not left him alone, bewildered: As they worked, they learned to communicate, in a combination of Latin, medieval French and Italian. And, slowly, they had become friends: When she stopped appearing at the farm or the Boarding House - where Finn tended the gardens - in the mornings, it was because she had invited Finn to sit on the deck at her lake-house and drink wine in the sunset while they played chess. He still wasn't very good; but she didn't mind. She had started teaching him English: He was getting better.

Now it was Elijah's turn. Finn slipped back into the Old Language with him; Elijah struggled, but started to remember. And farming had not changed, fundamentally, since Man had first sown seeds and reaped the treasure offered from the earth. Water, sunlight and patience. It had been the same a thousand years ago.

Elijah glanced over at his brother. Over the centuries he had convinced himself that he was doing a favour, leaving Finn daggered; he did not have to endure Niklaus' manipulations and cruelty, suffer the losses they had all experienced, the brutality at his hands… But he had also stolen those nine centuries from Finn just as surely as Niklaus had; while the others had altered with the passing ages, Finn remained as true to himself as he had been before they were turned.

And Finn was right: As they worked, Elijah thought. He had a lot to think about, namely Giulia's survival, and Niklaus' return. Giulia had shown him the Natives' paintings weeks - years - ago, and so he was not reeling, as the others had been: But it meant a great deal that they all knew…except Rebekah.

She had been left behind. There were no more coffins in the house, hidden by magic: Rebekah had been left behind, as the first of his siblings Klaus would likeliest raise from desiccation to assist him. Giulia was not a stranger to Elijah, as she had been to the others: She had outwitted Niklaus where none had in centuries, and had guessed that lifting Esther's spell was the last thing Klaus would want, once he had actually done it. She had hypothesised the true nature of a 'hybrid' and the devastating consequences of dual-natures such as vampire and werewolf fighting for dominance: She had guessed that Niklaus had talked himself into believing something so fiercely for so long that it would never have occurred to him that he was wrong.

Finn had been left behind; he did not share the history of harrowing abuse and co-dependence that had defined Elijah's cursed afterlife. He had not altered with time, as the others all had; Elijah almost envied his purity. Elijah wondered how he would react to the stories of Niklaus' abuse - they were legion; each sibling, Elijah's daughter Gyda, their cousin Kol, had their own stories to tell, the unimaginable cruelty - the paranoia, narcissism, the mind-games and punishments and volatile moods that gave Elijah whiplash even to remember them. The loved-ones they had lost; the friendships they had forfeited; the opportunities snatched from them.

A thousand years' worth of grief, loathing, distrust - pain…all because of one person. From Henrik's brutal death to Giulia's awe-inspiring self-sacrifice mere days ago in Elijah's mind, it all stemmed back to Niklaus. The architect of their family's misfortunes.

The night of the ritual, Elijah had heard Giulia warn Niklaus that he would regret lifting Esther's spell.

Over the course of the night, Kol had been animated, rapturous, gloating as he detailed every rumour they had heard over the last decade about Klaus - most of which he had heard from Giulia, who had her sources, chief among them Klaus' new keeper, Stefan…and Katerina.

The compulsion Elijah had used on her weeks ago, closing any loopholes that his death inevitably created, was still strong: From what little Kol knew of Katerina's part in things, Elijah knew she continued to do as Giulia asked, just as he had compelled her to. She had been following Niklaus and Stefan's progress throughout the Continent for the last decade.

Giulia had used her to disseminate warnings: and tidy up loose ends, as only Katerina Petrova knew how.

Elijah wondered very much how a decade of being helpful to another person had affected Katerina's personality. She had spent so long running from their family, from Niklaus' wrath, that she had become self-absorbed, malicious and ruthless. Looking back on his dysfunctional family and their myriad issues - all of which stemmed from Niklaus' abuse - he could not blame Katerina her desire to survive, to extract either vengeance on or freedom from her abuser.

Did he not desire the same?

"Giulia tells me Niklaus has lifted Mother's spell," Finn murmured, and Elijah toiled, and glanced over at his brother. Seamlessly, they had slipped back into their ancient roles, working together in synchronisation born of years of practice to tend to the crops.

He sighed heavily. "He has. It cost many lives, over many centuries…but he finally got what he wanted."

"I hear that is all he ever gets. Exactly as he wishes," Finn said coldly, and Elijah almost stifled his flinch. He had spent a thousand years giving in to his brother's violent, paranoid, demanding nature; it was rare that anyone had ever said no to Niklaus. Rare still for them to survive their daring.

"It is true," Elijah sniffed.

"How was it managed, Elijah?" Finn frowned. "Mother released Tatia during the ritual to bind Niklaus' conflicting natures." It had been Finn who had loved Tatia with a deep, abiding, unselfish passion: True love, not the dizzyingly obsessive lust Klaus had offered her. She had favoured the bold, impetuous Niklaus and taken him into her bed whenever he desired her: But Finn…his love had scared her, pure and strong, unchanging. Elijah glanced sharply at his brother, whom he had rarely ever heard mention Tatia after they left the New World, this world, fleeing Mikael, their hated memories, attempting to rebuild some kind of life as they discovered their limits - or lack thereof.

"There was a doppelgänger, Finn," Elijah said, and realised Finn would now know the Germanic term. "Tatia…her likeness, was reborn, over and over again, throughout the last millennium. Born into different cultures, different times, developing different personalities through experience, but always her exact replica in looks. A supernatural phenomenon…"

"There must be a balance," Finn mumbled to himself, frowning. Mother had taught them at her knee that Nature demanded a balance. Mother could not place a spell on Niklaus using sacrificial magic without Nature providing the same ingredients to unmake the spell: They had the ability to create vampires, werewolves flourished when they had fled the New World, and the doppelgänger had been born over and over throughout the centuries. Elijah knew of Katerina, Elena, and fewer than a handful of other girls all sharing Tatia's likeness. He had protected the others, when there was no hope in sight for reclaiming the moonstone, ensured Niklaus never heard of their existence.

Over time, Elijah's conscience outweighed his devotion to Niklaus more and more rarely, but when it did, it had significant ramifications to all their lives.

The other girls had passed out their lives without ever knowing their true natures.

Katerina was the unlucky one Elijah could not get to before Niklaus heard of her: But he had done what he could to ensure Elena's survival.

As fraught as their friendship had been at that point, Giulia had done all she could to ensure her friend's survival.

"Niklaus discovered Tatia's double?"

"Several times over," Elijah sighed heavily, flinching as memories resurfaced. Giulia, Finn, their reappearances had flayed the scar-tissue from his mind, memories pouring out unbidden. The 1910s, New Orleans, he had been shocked to his core to discover an exquisite Flemish émigré in one of the burlesque halls: The only doppelgänger he had ever truly adored - kept secret, for as long as possible, a dazzling dancer, an exquisite lover and a sultry bon vivant, a charming woman and a devoted mother…dealt an excruciatingly brutal death when Niklaus discovered her, impotent with rage at the lost moonstone, his squandered opportunity.

"First was Katerina Petrova…then Adélaïde," Elijah swallowed with difficulty. He had adored but not been in love with Adélaïde: She had a talented tongue and an insatiable appetite - especially for a lover who could not impregnate her. Pregnancy for a dancer was ruinous. "Lastly was Elena Gilbert."

"And these girls…all resemble Tatia?"

"They are her exact doubles," Elijah said, wincing. He wondered what Finn wouldn't give to see Tatia again, wondered how he would react to either Katerina, or Elena. "Katerina discovered her part in Mother's spell, stole the moonstone and turned herself into a vampire; the moonstone and Katerina were believed lost by the time Niklaus…met Adélaïde. He murdered her for being a reminder of his loss… The Salvatore brothers unearthed the lie Katerina had hidden behind for decades; neither the moonstone nor a mortal doppelgänger were lost anymore… Katerina set everything place to lift Mother's spell as a means of buying her freedom…" She had been committed, Elijah would acknowledge that at least: But at the cost of other people's lives. She had once been victim to another's whims and had spent five centuries ensuring she would never again be vulnerable.

He hoped that helping Giulia the last decade had put Katerina back onto a path to reclaim the girl she had once been, the one he remembered so vividly in her forest-green velvet gown and pearls, working hard to hide her Bulgarian accent, entranced by the Italian-inspired gardens of the mansion they had lived in at the time, romanticising courtly-love and intoxicated by his attention to and kindness toward her.

Niklaus had lusted after Tatia, Finn had loved her: Elijah had loved Katerina, in his way, Niklaus desired to kill her: Elijah had lusted after and adored his Adélaïde, and Niklaus had brutalised her.

In a tragic echo of Tatia's fate, a doppelgänger could not be loved by one brother without the other destroying her.

Katerina had been romantic and had started out gentle, somewhat naïve, driven by her emotions and slave to her own whims: Adélaïde had been sweet and gentle, sensual and joyous, uninhibited and charming: Elena was compassionate, sorrowful, kind and courageous.

He regretted Katerina's fate, saw the parallels in her ruination over the centuries to his own, the devolution of his siblings: He missed Adélaïde's sensual, flirty friendship, playing vingt et un and tippling cocktails as they lounged in bed, savouring his first rare intimacy with anyone since Céleste, his first lover since: And he was curious what Elena had become in his absence. Ten years was a pit-stop for him but to a mortal, especially one who had flirted with death as often as Elena had, a decade was an eternity.

"Niklaus truly slit the throat of a girl who resembled Tatia?"

"He drank her dry," Elijah said quietly, squinting in the sunlight at his brother. Finn, he knew, could no sooner have harmed a doppelgänger than himself. Niklaus had no such compunctions: He had lusted after Tatia, but never truly loved her.

"What happened after?" Finn asked curiously, a few moments later. Elijah straightened up, dusting off his hands, frowning.

"He…started to shift," he said, and Finn every detail he could recall from Niklaus' first full transformation since his first, a thousand years ago. As he described in vivid detail the true nature of Niklaus' 'hybrid' transformation, Finn stared at him, frowning.

"Niklaus transformed thus a thousand years ago," Finn told him quietly, and Elijah stared. "You do not remember?"

"It was so long ago…"

"You were intent on Gyda," Finn nodded, recalling; Elijah's sole focus after their transformation had been his one surviving child, his eldest daughter, the first and only true and abiding love of his life. "After his first kill, Niklaus triggered his werewolf curse, you recall… He savaged a family before Father found him, more brutally than any murder we had seen - and you recall the Natives' customs? And our own."

"I remember," Elijah shivered. They had been medieval Vikings but even they had learned torture from their Native neighbours: The Natives had their traditions and tortures, and they had their own. The blood eagle was reserved for the very worst offenses.

"Father happened upon Niklaus as he savaged the corpses, unable to stop himself," Finn said quietly. "We all struggled with the bloodlust, but Niklaus was truly maddened. He seemed not to know us, he had no concept of anything but the desire to maul… Mother realised what was happening, but she did not know how to reverse the spell she used on us."

"So she repressed his werewolf nature," Elijah frowned. He knew his mother had been horrified by the repercussions of her spell - something had gone wrong; and she had wept with frustration and grief, the only two people who could help her - Kol and Isak - stripped of their powers, their connection to magic, to Nature, too consumed by their new bloodlust to help her.

"It was all she could do," Finn said. "She suppressed his werewolf side, and Niklaus regained his sanity, took back some control over his own body, his mind… It should have been temporary, as Mother attempted to reverse the spell she used on us."

Elijah glanced sharply at his brother. "Reverse…?"

"She said the spell was tainted; we should never have become what we are," Finn said, and Elijah stood reeling. "She had perfected the magic she used on Father and on us to extend our lives: The spell went wrong. With the war raging, Niklaus' struggle was a distraction Mother could not afford: It was only supposed to be temporary until Mother learned what had gone wrong with her spell, and set things to rights. Before she could…"

"Niklaus murdered her. How do you know all this?"

"I protected Mother," Finn said quietly, his eyes downcast. "Kol and Isak were filled with such rage…Mother alone could undo what she had done, but they would have killed her over their loss…" His protective nature had shone through the bloodlust that consumed them all when they were freshly-turned: He had tried to protect the one person who could have undone everything.

Elijah remembered that Finn had disappeared shortly after the ritual in which Tatia, broken and bloodied by Niklaus, had been sacrificed to bind Niklaus' werewolf nature. He had returned to the village to find the funeral pyre built for their mother.

Elijah couldn't help wonder…had Niklaus killed their mother, knowing she had discovered a way to reverse the damage she had done? Had he stopped her from performing the spell?

He knew discovering his true paternity had left a fracture on Niklaus' psyche since he triggered his werewolf-curse, showing the world that he was not the son of the jarl but the product of their mother's relationship with Rollo…just as Willem was, Elijah believed.

Had Niklaus been so enraged by his true paternity that he had murdered their mother?

He could almost understand if it had been an accident, they had all struggled with their new strength and instincts - but Niklaus…he had always been spoiled and petulant, had to be the centre of attention, loathed others for their successes, incapable of taking responsibility for his shortcomings - he had lied. He had blamed Mikael, who Elijah had realised was innocent of the crime of murdering his own wife - and, Elijah suspected, innocent of the murder of Rollo, his Native wife and their children… Elijah, already an adult when they had fled the Old World and the memory of Freyja's death, Dagmaer's reign of terror, had watched his mother's relationship with Rollo develop as Mikael grew ever harsher, ignoring her in his rage and his grief at Freyja's death.

It had always been Esther who ruled in their marriage: Mikael ruled the village but Esther ruled Mikael. And when Mikael turned cold, Esther released him, cast him out, to take his violence and wrath elsewhere, away from her children: She chose Rollo as her partner, her lover. Mikael took care of the colony; and Rollo took care of Esther. And both men knew it. Mikael warred, rigid and unyielding, Rollo by his side: But after every battle, it was Rollo whom Esther invited into her bed in the first, small jarlshall, reminding Mikael of his place, and her power in their relationship. And only on Esther's terms did she finally take Mikael back, allowing him to father their last two children - Rebekah and Henrik. Rollo stepped back with good grace, marrying a Native to secure an alliance, had fathered other children.

Children who were murdered brutally by their half-brother years later.

Niklaus had murdered one set of half-siblings: He had tormented the others for a millennium.

And yet he would have everyone treat him as the victim!

Elijah picked up the fork, driving it into the earth, and worked diligently for a half-hour before he glanced over at Finn. "Mother truly discovered how to reverse what she did to us?"

"Truthfully I only know that she was working on discovering what went wrong with the spell," Finn said quietly. "But I had faith that she would."

"She was the most gifted witch in centuries," Elijah said, truthfully. Their mother had been incomparable. She had used magic to extend all their lives: Longevity meant stability. And they had needed it, establishing the colony after fleeing Kattegat. They remained, mostly unchanged, while the other villagers grew older, gave birth, died, built up their small village. Elijah was far older than he looked by the time they had been created into vampires: Only Rebekah had truly been the age she looked when she turned, seventeen summers had passed since her birth when she was turned, Esther's first daughter born in the New World after three decades, during which time Willem and Niklaus had both been born and grown, Willem an adult, Niklaus still very young.

To this day, Elijah did not know his parents' true ages; he only knew there were years, sometimes a decade, between each child born to them. Elijah knew they had spent half a century in the New World, before they became vampires. And yet Esther had never aged past the appearance of her mid-forties: Mikael looked to be in his early-fifties. Where his mother had come from remained a mystery; the only story she ever told of her early life was the fate of her sister Dagmaer, the sister whose child she had raised as her own, and who had taken a child from her in turn out of pure malice.

"What were they like?" Finn asked, several moments later.

"Who?"

"The… doppelgängers," Finn said, frowning at the unfamiliar word. "Were they truly like Tatia?"

"In each, there was…a hint of her," Elijah said, fairly. He had had little more than disdain for Tatia, especially with the way she dandled both Finn and Niklaus: Truthfully, he had been busy with his wife, his own children, his farm and his boats. Except to encourage Finn to take Tatia to wife if she truly meant so much to him, Elijah had taken a step back where his brother's love for her was concerned. He neither condemned nor condoned; like Esther's relationships with Mikael and Rollo, it just was.

For a little while, he talked to Finn - who requested English when he seemed to realise they were speaking the Old Tongue - about the doppelgängers Elijah had known over the centuries. The pure, virginal Livia who was discovered by Isak in Bologna in the 1300s, seduced as his lover, and murdered by him the moment Niklaus laid eyes on her; the dangerous temptress Katerina; pious, conflicted Marie he had seen by chance in the Dordogne, a fabric-merchant's pregnant wife; sweet Matilda, known as Tilly; his insatiable, sweet, sultry Adélaïde; and grieving, feisty Elena.

He spoke mostly of Livia, whose body Isak had laughed over, enjoying Niklaus' wrath and grief; of Elena, freshest in his memory; of Adélaïde.

"You loved this one," Finn observed.

"I savoured her companionship," Elijah confessed, shaking his head. He had enjoyed Adélaïde, their bed-sport, the candlelit evenings playing cards in bed, their friendship: She had been a delight in bed, talented with her tongue and voracious, but he had liked stealing time with her just as much, reading, talking. To share his bed with someone, after so long denying himself any form of intimacy.

Giulia had driven the memory of any other woman out of his mind.

No woman had engaged or excited him, filled him with delight, insatiable for her, impressed him, earned his respect and his trust, like Giulia Salvatore.

As important as the other women in his life had been, his memories of them were left pale and dull in comparison: Giulia outshone them all.

He was in danger: He had fallen in love with Giulia.

And she had had a decade without him.

He had told her, before he had taken the dagger to his heart, that he was excited to meet the woman she would grow into, no matter how long it took before they met once more.

He had spoken truthfully, and now, he did not regret it: He was…excited, curious, anxious, jittery, overwhelmed, delighted, filled with anticipation, delirious with euphoria, his gut churning with dread. She had changed: He hadn't. Not really. Not noticeably; the most drastic shifts in his personality in centuries had occurred while he was with Giulia.

She had shown him the Native paintings; unbidden, he had drawn her into his mind under the influence of werewolf venom.

He had let her in: And that was something he simply did not do.

Elijah was fashioned from his experiences.

Every time he had let someone in, Niklaus had done his utmost to ruin everything Elijah had built for himself.

Until Giulia.

She had survived.

More than that, she had thrived.

She had beaten the unconquerable Klaus - and he didn't even realise it!

Elijah smiled proudly as he turned the earth, working side-by-side with his brother for the first time in a millennium.

"And what of Giulia?" Finn asked, and Elijah glanced over at his brother. "You know her."

"Giulia and I…" He sighed, shaking his head; he couldn't even say it. She was married, he remembered, with a twisting sensation like a knife to his gut. How could he explain to Finn, without recounting the entire story, how could he make someone else understand what he was struggling to reconcile inside himself? "She is…extraordinary."

"Do you not think…she resembles Lucrezia?"

He had thought so, several times. And Finn would remember Lucrezia more clearly than any of them. "Sometimes I have thought so," Elijah confessed. "Very rarely, I would look at Giulia, and be struck dumb by the expression on her face, she was so like Lucrezia it took my breath away…"

"Did you…did you ever discover Lucrezia's fate?"

"No. To this day, no; we have no idea what happened to her," Elijah said quietly. Lucrezia, his first, greatest love as a newly-turned vampire, a fearsome woman who had moulded the people they had become for as long as they were her guests, her family in Marseilles…she had disappeared, no trace, no word. Nothing. No attempt to locate or contact her with witchcraft had been successful. After three centuries, Elijah had finally, blessedly, had to let her go.

Giulia had vivid silvery-grey eyes, almost-black hair and cheekbones to cut diamonds, but Elijah had met her as a grieving, brilliant, vibrant girl adrift in her loss; watched her transform into a fierce young warrior-woman who utilised her mind as her most dangerous weapon, was privileged to experience her blossoming sexuality, fierce and sultry and intense, and her tenderness, taking care of him when he suffered, gentling his agony as he relived his most hated memories; he had watched her laugh as she danced into the flames, burning herself alive to deprive a sexual-sadist the pleasure of staking her, unselfish and courageous and vibrant, and able to see the future.

He had fallen in love with every aspect of Giulia's personality, even her frenzied, insomniac workaholic coping-mechanisms, and especially her tenderness, her warmth and bravery, her burgeoning wisdom born of pain, and her unselfish devotion to people who did not deserve her.

He had fallen in love with Giulia, who was flesh and blood and vibrant: Lucrezia was nothing more than a memory.

He had long stopped loving ghosts, the memories of what might have been.

But he would wait for Giulia.

She had spent ten years, doing the gods knew what, securing his family - her final promise to him: It was his turn to wait for her.

"Lucrezia is gone," Elijah said quietly. "But Giulia lives."

Her heart had been beating; her body hummed with its own natural warmth. Whatever Giulia had become that night at the quarry, Elijah was curious to find out. But he would bide his time.

As he had told Giulia once, a gentleman was merely a patient wolf.

And he had all eternity to wait for her.


A.N.: I'm back! It's taken ages to get this chapter written! It was one of those awkward ones that give information and set the scene, but happens between the things I know I want to write!