A.N. – Thank you guys for the feedback you've provided so far! I take it that no one is a Belle/Lucien (Blucien?) fan. Anyway, keep up the support. (I apologize in advance for my mediocre poetic skills; poetry isn't really my forte.) As always, please read, review and enjoy :)


*France – 1107*

The man, the monster, who called himself Lucien led Belle and Max out into the garden to properly dispose of the bodies that Belle had carelessly dropped through the course of the night. "You should really learn to be more careful," he said as he threw the last body onto the pile of corpses. To her surprise, there were other bodies there, one's that she hadn't drained. Other vampires were there. In their fairly short time as creatures of the night, Belle and Max hadn't run into any others like them, aside from Charlotte. She wasn't yet sure how to feel about this – perhaps joy, or, quite possibly, fear.

"There are quite a few bodies here," she mused. "Was this your doing?" She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and stood with her hands behind her back, watching Lucien with both curiosity and suspicion.

He stood taller, pushing his chin-length brunette hair out of his face. Getting a better look at his face, she had to admit, he was rather handsome. "A few of them, yes. Though I suppose I can't take all the credit."

Belle raised an eyebrow. "There are others?"

"Yes," he said, nodding.

"How many?" Max asked, unable to hide the anxiety that carved its way into his features; his cerulean eyes widened and his jaw clenched tightly. Unlike his sister, Max's first instinct was almost always flight. Hers, on the other hand, was always fight.

"Just two, aside from myself. They are...friends of mine, I suppose. Brother and sister, like the two of you."

Belle's head whipped around as she heard two sets of footsteps behind her: one heavy, one light. Her eyes fell on a young man and a woman who were dressed immaculately.

"Speaking of – Aurora, Tristan," Lucien said, nodding in their direction. There was a look in his eyes as he stared into the man's that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Fear? Hate? Both?

The man, Tristan, was fairly tall, around Max's height. A beam of moonlight illuminated his face, his blue eyes glinting. She could see the skepticism and contempt in his expression. "Who are these...strangers?" he demanded.

Lucien opened his mouth to reply, but Belle beat him to the punch. "I'm Belinda Campbell. This is my younger brother, Maxwell." She smiled and curtsied politely, though there was something borderline sarcastic about her actions. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

Max stood rigidly, choking out, "a pleasure, indeed."

"Forgive my brother," Belle said. "He's a bit odd." She could feel Max glaring at her.

"Forgive my sister. She often forgets to mind her tongue," Max snapped.

The lady, Aurora, giggled, stepping out from behind her brother. Her red hair shone in the moonlight, as did her curious hazel eyes. "Brother, they bicker like you and I do," she chuckled, eyes shifting to meet Belle's. "Would you two care to join us for a drink and conversation? We're staying at the inn just down the road. It's so rare for us to meet others of our kind." She smiled at the pair of them, and it seemed genuine.

"Well, we will need shelter from the day," Max replied. His gaze was locked with Tristan's, and he nodded. "We'd love to join you."

"Of course," Belle agreed, forcing a smile. There was something off about them; she could feel it in her bones. Belle decided that she would have to keep her guard up.

*Present*

Belle awoke to someone brushing their fingers over the black and grey roses that were tattooed on her shoulder. Lucien. She could feel his weight shift on the mattress as he leaned forward to place a series of soft, butterfly kisses on them, working his way up to her neck. Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled brightly, a soft moan slipping out as he kissed the particularly sensitive spot behind her ear. So far, this morning was turning out better than she had anticipated.

"Morning," Lucien murmured against her soft, alabaster skin.

She chuckled, rolling onto her back. "Morning," she said, her voice still thick with sleep. She wove her fingers into his thick, dark hair as his lips traced her jawline. He went to move on top of her, but Belle quickly rolled to the other end of the bed and pinned Lucien on his back, pushing the covers to the foot of the bed before moving to sit on his lower abdomen, grinning wickedly down at him.

Just as their lips met, Belle heard her phone ring from the other room. She had half a mind to ignore it and further indulge in this twist in her and Lucien's friendship, but decided, reluctantly, against it. What if it was Klaus on the other end? She couldn't risk missing the call.

She sighed deeply and moved to the foot of the bed, wrapping a sheet around herself as she went.

"Where are you going?" Lucien asked. She could practically hear his eyes roll.

"To answer my phone. I'll be right back." Her phone lay in the floor beside the dining table under a heap of her discarded clothing. Freya's name was on her screen in bright, white text. Without a moment's hesitation, she answered. "Yes," she said quietly. She could feel Lucien standing behind her, listening, watching.

"I've made a few developments regarding your...condition. I can't get away right now, but can you meet me tonight?" Freya, too, kept her voice low.

"Of course. Where and when?" Belle sounded all too eager, but she couldn't help it. She prayed for good news, perhaps some sort of cure.

"I'll text you the details." Her voice lowered; Belle suspected that prying ears were within range of their conversation. Without another word, Freya hung up. Belle could've sworn she heard Klaus's voice faintly on the other line just before it cut off.

"What the hell is this?" Lucien exclaimed, standing naked right behind her. Belle nearly jumped as he put his hand on her shoulder, running the fingers of his other hand over the dark mark on her back. She winced as he pressed lightly on the blue-black skin.

"Son of a bitch!" she whispered to herself. She had forgotten to cover it. How was she supposed to explain it? Lie? No, that wouldn't work. He wouldn't believe her.

"What's wrong?" Lucien turned Belle to face him, placing both hands on her shoulders; his voice was grave.

"It's, well, I don't really know, honestly. That was Freya who called, Freya Mikaelson. She's helping me figure things out."

"Have you tried other witches? What did they say? Do you know anything?" She wanted to roll her eyes at his pestering, yet good-natured, inquiry.

"Yes, nothing, and no. That's why I went to Freya, the oldest, and from what I understand, most knowledgeable witch I know of." She sighed deeply, unable to look him in the eyes and see the pity in them. She didn't want to be some sob story. "Look, can we just not talk about this. Okay? I'm sure you have plenty of other things to worry about besides me and my problems. Like the obnoxious little ginger you're stupidly infatuated with." She chuckled, trying to lighten the mood and take the focus off of her.

"Is it life threatening?"

She shrugged. "I don't know." She sounded far more nonchalant than she actually felt at the moment. Behind the mask she was a raging ball of anxiety.

Lucien didn't seem deterred by Belle simply brushing off her mystery curse like it was nothing more than a minor inconvenience, rather than the threat it truly was. But he knew better than to argue with her, so he made a proposal. "I know a witch, a genuine seer, actually. I believe she can help you."

Belle rolled her eyes, pulling away from his unwavering grasp, clutching the sheet tighter to her body. She felt so exposed, so vulnerable. She had wanted to keep the curse a secret; now there was one more person who risked the safety of its secrecy. More importantly, there was one more person who ran the risk of exposing it to Klaus, and he was one of the last people she wanted to know about it. Even after everything they'd been through she didn't want to hurt him, and she knew that this knowledge would. She knew that, somewhere under his facade, Klaus still loved her just as deeply as she loved him. "Look, I don't think some fortune-teller can help me, okay, Lucien? Just stop trying to,"

"No," he snapped, his voice much sharper than she had expected. There was anger in his eyes and determination in his voice. "This is the very least you can let me do; just, please, allow me help you get some peace of mind. I promise you won't regret this," he assured her, his voice much softer now.

She couldn't tell whether it was because of the sex or the revelation of her current predicament, but something had changed in Lucien. Or maybe it was she who had changed.

The seer showed up roughly an hour later. Belle was freshly showered and dressed, sitting on the couch as Lucien answered the door. She nervously chewed her thumbnail as her eyes darted toward the doors, watching the young witch cross the threshold. She was a tall brunette with piercing, yet wise, eyes. "Let's make this quick; I've got plans," she said, her dark eyes scanning the room nonchalantly.

"I've already briefed her; Alexis will take a peek into your future, and you will then feed on her directly to see what she has seen. Quick, easy, painless."

"Before we get started, I have a quick question for you," Belle said to Alexis, who met her gaze.

"Yes?"

"Tell me, do you get your fortunes from those little Chinese cookies, or do you just pull them out of your ass?" Belle laughed at her own, admittedly tasteless, joke.

Alexis's jaw clenched. "Okay, if she's going to be a bitch and mock me then I'm out."

Lucien held up his hands. "There's no need to be hasty, Alexis. You have to forgive my friend; seriousness is not something she knows well."

Belle rolled her eyes at his comment, but kept her response to herself. "Let's just get this over with."

Without warning, Alexis reached out and grabbed Belle's wrists, holding them a little more tightly than was necessary, and closed her eyes. The room was eerily quiet until, finally, she awoke from whatever trance had overtaken her. The witch nodded and moved her curls aside, exposing her neck. Belle couldn't help but lick her lips as her eyes locked onto the woman's pulsing carotid. Her fangs extended and she, a bit too eagerly, sunk them into Alexis's flesh.

Immediately, images of blood and carnage and faceless strangers began flashing through her mind while Alexis monotonously recited a riddle: Belle's fortune, her future. "It will end when it began, but not by your own hand. Hearts are not the only things that will ache, for your body and will, too, shall break. Razor teeth and crimson eyes will hold more than one deadly surprise. Betrayal, lies and deceit await. Choose wisely, for actions, not words, will decide your fate."

Belle saw the crimson eyes and teeth Alexis spoke of. She saw a mountain of bloodied, beaten, bodies. She saw the night sky, full of twinkling stars as snowflakes drifted down. But the most shocking thing she saw shook her to her very core: Klaus holding Belle's gray, lifeless corpse in the middle of a street, snowflakes clinging to the tears on his cheeks.

She pulled away abruptly, blood dripping from the corners of her lips. She felt shock and paralyzing fear overtake her mind and body as her thoughts reeled. Belle didn't even realize that she was crying until Lucien wiped away the stinging tears from her cheeks. "What did you see?" she heard him ask, but his words didn't register at first.

So it was true, set in stone; she was going to die. Her mind was so cluttered and overwhelmed that she couldn't make heads or tails of what the witch had said. The words played on a loop in her conscious, but they were nothing more than white-noise at that moment.

"It's not true." She barely registered the words as they stumbled from her white, bloodied lips. She stared into the witch's eyes, but saw nothing. Her body was in Lucien's living room, but her mind was still in the vision, watching everything she had seen on replay, trying to make sense of it. Suddenly, she snapped back to reality, and anger pushed past the shock and jumped to the forefront of her mind. Without realizing it, Belle's grasp closed around the seer's throat, squeezing tightly. She could feel Alexis swallow in fear. "Liar," Belle seethed, her eyes set on the witch's, paying no mind to the fear she found in them.

"Belle," Lucien snapped, forcing Belle off. His hand closed tightly around her wrists, restricting her. "She's telling the truth."

"My visions are genuine, conjured from you, and you alone. They are true, and they are your future. I'm sorry if that upsets you," Alexis said, her voice hoarse. She rubbed the sore red marks around her throat that would surely become bruises within the hour.

Lucien turned to Alexis, nodding, keeping his hold on Belle. "Thank you, darling. You can leave."

She scoffed, heading back to the doors. "I expect my check within the week, with a bonus, of course."

He rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes, yes. Now leave," he snapped. She needed no further prodding and was out the door in an instant.

As soon the door closed Lucien released his grip on Belle. His eyes softened a little. There was a spark of curiosity that ignited in them. She looked away again. "What did she show you?" he asked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shook it off and looked him in the eyes.

It took everything in her to say the words aloud, to admit that what she had seen was real, not some nightmare that had wormed its way into her thoughts. What she had seen was, in fact, her future. She knew that, but she couldn't accept it. She had lived too long, fought too hard, to let it all end.

"Belle," Lucien said, more forcefully this time. "What did she show you?" He was getting desperate.

She decided to just blurt it out, get it over with. "My death."

That night, per the instructions Freya had later texted her, Belle waited outside of some sleazy club for Freya. It was 10:07; Freya was seven minutes late. Through the obnoxiously loud techno music that blasted from inside the building, Belle heard the clicking of Freya's boots as she approached. "You're late," she said, looking up to meet the tall blonde's gaze.

"Sorry, I got held up," she said in an uncharacteristically relaxed tone. From the way she was swaying on her heels and suddenly gripping Belle's arm, she immediately knew that Freya was drunk.

"Did you seriously decide to get wasted before you came here to tell me whatever life-altering news you couldn't disclose over the phone? Classy." Belle did her best to hold her tongue, despite having more than a few choice words for the eldest Mikaelson.

Freya hiccuped before holding out her hand, waving it dangerously close to Belle's face. "For your information, I am not 'wasted'. I'm just a little tipsy, and you can blame that on your lover, Niklaus, for providing wine with this evening's dinner."

Belle rolled her eyes. "He is not my lover. Look, can you just cut to the chase and tell me whatever it is you came here to say." She was late to pick up Blade from the Compound; he was probably asleep now.

Freya nodded, attempting to look Belle in the eyes, but she was too tipsy to focus properly. "Fear not. My inebriated state has not impaired my mental faculties. Now, you may want to sit down for this," she said. Her grip on Belle's arm tightened; she couldn't decide whether it was because of the seriousness of the matter, or because she wasn't quite as sober as she let on.

Belle resisted the impulse to slap her. Her patience wore dangerously thin. "Freya, we are on the side of the god damned road; I am not sitting on the decrepit, piss-covered sidewalk. Just. Tell. Me. Now."

"Okay. Here it is." Freya paused, taking a deep breath. "Your curse is, in fact, a curse."

Belle burst out laughing, not only at Freya's response, but also at the serious expression on her face and her grave tone of voice. This "news" was bullshit. "Wow. I'm glad I was prepared for that bombshell!"

Freya shook her head, pressing a finger to Belle's lips. "Shhh, shhh, just stop, okay. You didn't let me finish."

Annoyed, Belle stopped laughing and swatted Freya's hand away. "Fine. And?"

"It's a curse, so someone had to have placed it on you. It's not just something that happens. Someone did this to you. I don't know who, but I can guarantee that their intentions were anything but good."

Finally, something useful. Someone was trying to kill her. Normally this wouldn't surprise, or even really worry her, but after seeing what she had seen earlier that day, Belle was completely and utterly petrified.

However, despite having actually seen her future, there were still so many uncertainties. But there was one thing of which she was absolutely certain: if her end was near, there was no way in hell she was going down without a fight.

After a brief, tense pause, Belle looked at a slowly sobering Freya and said, "I need a drink."