A/N: Hi lovely readers. Before we get into this chapter I'm going to abuse the A/N for a PSA. I won't name names, but those of you on Tumblr know that a certain Klonnie fic has been plagiarizing other writers, including myself. I'm going to reach out to the author eventually, but in the meantime I would like to urge all of you to please speak out whenever you notice instances of plagiarism in your fandoms. If you appreciate fanfic and the labor that goes into it, please do support your writers not only by reviewing but by urging others to uphold standards of creative integrity in your communities. And thank you to all of you who do make this work worthwhile with your consistent and loving support. This concludes the PSA!
On to the fic: this is the chapter I've been waiting to write since I first started this story almost a year ago. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did imagining and writing it. A huge thank you to my beta-bae Cait who keeps pushing me to tell the sincerest story I can. There's only one more installment left after this one!
"You can throw all your lucky coins on me.
On me."
- Gregory Alan Isakov
"I'm doing your makeup right?"
"Are you kidding? The last time you did my makeup I looked like a raccoon," Bonnie reminded her friend, balancing the phone under her ear so she could pour some milk into her Cheerios.
"Excuse you?" Caroline's voice pitched so high the phone almost jumped off Bonnie's shoulder into the bowl of cereal."You looked sophisticated and mature."
"Yeah, so sophisticated that two different men and a woman offered me money to go home with them."
Caroline sighed, "You know what your problem is?"
She chewed a mouthful of her breakfast thoughtfully, "That I let you talk me into bad makeup decisions?"
"You're afraid to stand out. Attention terrifies you," Caroline stated with cheery triumph.
Bonnie rolled her eyes, "Any other insights, O Wise One?"
"I'm just saying. I know these things."
"...anyway. Is Tyler taking you?"
"He is! I'm picking up his tie right now. Do you know how long I've waited to get him in a suit again?"
"Since the last Decades Dance?"
"It's almost as fun as getting him out," Caroline's voice lowered like she was divulging classified information, "Bennett, have I told you how much hotter sex with a hybrid is?"
"I really don't-,"
"I'm talking technique, stamina-,"
"You know-"
"- even size,"
She almost spewed soggy cereal across the kitchen table, "That can't be a thing."
"You laugh now, wait till the first time you get some supernatural sex."
"...bye, Care."
"This ball's gonna be so much fun and exactly what we all need," she then clicked her tongue in mild annoyance, "Ugh, I hope Klaus doesn't show up."
Bonnie felt her stomach drop, and for the thousandth time since she'd done it she regretted mailing him that invitation. What was she thinking? What would she even say to him? Yes, perhaps it was better if he didn't come at all.
She dumped the rest of her cereal in the sink,"Yeah, me too."
An inner voice mocked her softly. Liar.
She'd meant the invitation as an apology. It made sense at the time. Now, a few hours from the ball, Bonnie cursed that moment of weakness. She was terrible at apologies, which is why she worked desperately to be good and principled. It was easier than admitting you were wrong. To admit your mistakes was to concede that you could be discarded, left behind, forgotten. It was to accept that, no matter how hard you tried, no matter the lies they tell you, people just don't cherish broken things. She understood now, though she could not forgive, why Abby had fled rather than dwell in the shadow of her failures. Why she'd left before anyone could leave her.
And Klaus, well, he was no doubt far away from little Mystic Falls, traveling to exotic destinations she couldn't possibly pronounce, touring art galleries and sampling food or blood or both.
He was gone, she told herself as the sun began to set. Klaus Mikaelson was gone.
The realization washed over her like a tide and receded slowly, leaving only emptiness where her relief should be.
She was concentrating on steaming her dress and barely noticed Rudy poking his head around the door.
"Bonnie?"
"Hey Dad," she inspected her ironing job, "I can do your suit later if you want."
He was regarding her with a wistful smile on his face. He seemed tired, his face lined from too many late nights at work.
She turned off the steamer. "Is everything ok?"
"Everything's great, honey. In fact, come with me."
Curious, she followed him downstairs. Rudy paused at the entrance to the dining room and shuffled his feet.
"I'm sorry that we couldn't go shopping for your dress together. I've been so busy with Council stuff and-,"
"Dad, it's really ok-,"
He grasped her hands, "No, it isn't."
There was a quiet vehemence in his voice she'd never heard before. Rudy was not a man given to displays of emotion. Ever since she was a little girl her father had been a calm but constant presence, a steady ebb and flow in her life. They didn't really talk about what they meant to each other. They just lived.
But now, he seemed almost nervous, causing concern to ripple through her in turn. "Dad...what's going on?"
"Nothing, nothing...," he glanced over his shoulder, "just uh...close your eyes. And walk with me."
She complied, though not without a grin, "Is MTV here? Are you gonna give me a car and then I cry because it's a Porsche instead of a Mercedes?"
"Keep dreaming big hun," he chuckled, "okay...here we are."
She opened her eyes. A fancy dry-cleaning bag with a gilt zipper lay across the dining room table. Her father wore a look of hesitant expectation.
Bonnie pulled the zipper open and her breath caught in her throat. Inside was a dress, pale-green and soft as rain to the touch, with small applique flowers clinging to the shoulders. It was beautiful in the delicate way of a spring morning, cut in elegant, feminine lines. Vintage couture, Caroline would've said.
"Dad...,"
"Do you like it?" he hedged, "I know it's a bit old-fashioned-,"
"Like it?" she ran her hands over the diaphanous material, and her face sobered "This is perfect, but...,"
"What's wrong?"
"Are you sure we can afford this? I know how much money you spent on the carnival-,"
"Hey, it's my job to worry about money," he gave her a fond look, "Besides," he reached into his pocket and produced r a small black-and-white photograph, "the dress belonged to her."
Bonnie gazed at the young woman in the polaroid wearing the same dress. She was poised and radiant, roses pinned in her upswept curls.
"Grandma Ava," she touched the beaming heart-shaped face, "she looks so beautiful here."
Rudy looked over her shoulder, his voice soft with memory, "She was just shy of eighteen in that picture."
"Wow...," she turned the photograph over, "look, there's a note."
Dearest Neil,
The moon was so beautiful tonight, it made me miss you terribly.
Write me when you get the chance.
All my love, Ava.
"Who's Neil?"
"I don't really know," Rudy mused, "a high school sweetheart maybe, before your grandpa came into the picture. Looks like she wrote Neil's address but never sent it."
"I wonder why...," she trailed off, looking into her grandmother's smiling face.
"You know, you remind me of her. Always have."
"Really?"
Her father touched her cheek, "She was always kind, always thinking of other people. Everybody and their uncle would come talk to her about their problems. She'd just make some sweet tea and listen to them get it off their chest."
Bonnie traced the outline of flowers on Ava's dress, "I wish I could've met her."
"Me too, baby. She would've spoiled you rotten."
"Think she would've bought me a car?"
Rudy rolled his eyes and Bonnie turned back to the dress, "How did you find this anyway?"
"In the attic of her old house. I was going through some stuff we could sell -," he paused, like he'd said too much.
"Dad...,"
He shook off the brief melancholia and held her gently by the shoulders, "I thought I told you not to worry didn't I?" Rudy nodded at the garment, "Besides, if I hadn't looked I would've never found this dress. She sewed it herself, you know. She would have wanted you to have it."
His eyes, so much like hers, were heavy with small defeats and papercut sorrows, yet they gazed at her now full of a patient tenderness you could only learn from sitting quietly and for a long time with grief. He'd been twelve years old, still a boy, when Ava had passed from cancer. He'd worked all his life, put himself through law school. And when Abby left, he'd filled in the swimming pool with concrete and looked after his daughter the best he could.
Bonnie wished she could tell him all the ways he'd taught her to endure things that were beyond enduring.
Instead she held up the photograph to his face, smiling as the resemblance floated slowly into view, "You have her eyes. I guess we both do."
The night was like a drop of champagne after months of abstinence. She felt fluttery and tremulous and almost too light on her feet. Ribboned flowers festooned the walls of the restored ballroom, streaming from the pillars and filling the air with faint intoxication.
The Council had outdone itself. Almost everyone of importance in Mystic Falls was here, and there was an ambience of old regality that was both exciting and intimidating.
Bonnie was surprised to find that she knew how to waltz despite having missed a bunch of practice. She took a few turns with Rudy, who was both proud and relieved that his exhausting efforts at organizing had paid off. Several people stared like they couldn't quite recognize her. She didn't blame them. For a while she'd only been half-alive, trailing through her days like a watery ghost.
But not tonight.
Tonight she was trembling on a precipice, wanting to leap into an unknown sky.
You can't live on shadows and rooftops forever, love. Sooner or later, you'll have to plant your feet.
She wanted...she was afraid of what she wanted, of this hunger inside her curving and wicked as a sickle blade.
There was another party, ages ago it seemed, when she'd huddled in a corner and wondered if she'd ever feel alive again. Klaus had seen her, despite her best efforts to stay hidden. And she'd seen him. She had been terrified then, even more so when he showed her how to let the forest coax her senses back to life.
It wasn't terror that seized her now when she saw him across the room, lounging by a pillar with his hands in his pockets and looking for all the world like he'd walked out of her mind.
It wasn't terror, no, but something captured her, held her fast as a knot.
She wanted to flee.
She couldn't move.
Was she not herself? So what were these wild and treacherous feelings?
His deceptively indolent gaze swiveled her way. Their eyes met, the knot came tumbling loose. Awareness burned through her, and she couldn't look away
Oh...
It all made heady sense: the strange restlessness that followed her everywhere, all her reckless decisions this past year.
He was walking now. The dancing couples seemed to make way just for him, but that was only an illusion, an effect of how he moved: purposeful, fluid and headed straight for her.
Move your feet, idiot!
But no matter how much she willed it, her body betrayed her.
Klaus came to a stop a few feet from her, so her eyes were level with his cravat. She wanted to laugh, toss an arch remark, ask him where his stupid hippy-dippy beads were that he usually wore around his neck. But there was a fluttering inside her chest like she'd swallowed a bird, like her heart was trying to escape her ribs.
"You're here," she managed, breathless like she'd run all the way to this moment.
"I was invited," he said lightly.
A strange, feverish silence welled between them.
"Bonnie, there you are," Rudy was suddenly next to her, holding her gently by the elbow, "the Council is about to introduce a special guest, in the next room."
Her father's voice shook her back into herself, "Oh...I didn't know there was a guest of honor."
"Me either, guess Carol was the only one who knew. Sorry to interrupt, Nicholas was it?"" he turned to Klaus.
"Niklaus," he clarified with a handshake, shooting Bonnie a glance.
"Niklaus, good to see you again. And thank you for coming."
Klaus nodded and folding his hands behind his back, stepped away so Rudy could her off. The crowd was moving slowly into the adjacent room, abuzz with chatter about the mysterious guest. Bonnie glanced back over her shoulder at Klaus, who stood still as a rock that streams of people flowed around. He gave her a look weighed with unfinished business. She turned quickly away.
"You alright, honey? You seem a little flushed."
"Too much dancing," she lied hastily.
Wooden double doors opened into a second, smaller room. The crowd started filing in.
Soon they were surrounded by a crush of bodies. Carol Lockwood called Rudy away, someone was handing out glasses of champagne.
Bonnie froze.
This couldn't be-
And, yet there to the left, clear and startling as in her vision, was a winding stone staircase leading up to a single white door.
Everyone's attention was focused at the head of the room, where Rudy and Carol were now pouring champagne into a tower of glasses. She alone couldn't wrench her eyes from the pale door atop the stairs.
The choking terror from her vision floated back. Her heart was in her throat. She looked around the room in panic but couldn't spot Caroline. She and Tyler must have stolen away already. Elena was in a corner, flanked by the Salvatores. Everyone was here, and that white door would open any minute. And then-
-she jumped at the feel of his hand on the small of her back.
Klaus looked up at the stairs. "Is this what I think it is?"
Resisting the impulse to lean into his chest, she nodded, "We have to get people out of here."
"No, we have to get out of here, and return with reinforcements-,"
"I'm not leaving ev-,"
"Shh!"
They both glared at the thin-lipped man.
Then, Klaus was pulling her through the crowd, towards the exit. She tried to dig in her heels and almost stumbled. "What are you doing?" she hissed.
"Getting you away from here."
"Let go," she tried to yank her hand free, but to no avail. Finally she grabbed his arm with her other hand, saying firmly, "Klaus."
The sound of his name broke his stride and he spun around so they faced each other. Her, mutinous and startled, him impatient and tense. "We are completely defenseless," he bit out, "any manner of things could be behind that door-,"
"That's why I can't leave! My father's here, everyone-,"
"Everyone did not see what you saw."
She stared at him in confusion and he made an exasperated sound, "The vision chose you, love. Don't you think this unknown danger might choose you too?"
It took her a beat to connect his words to the way he'd found her in the crowd and pulled her out.
He was concerned for her safety. In a room full of people, the first he had moved to protect was her.
No one else had ever singled her out for protection. She was always the shield, never sheltered.
And there was that feeling again, nothing like fear but just as arresting, dancing through her whole body.
The room behind them burst into applause, startling the taut silence gathered between her and the hybrid.
Bonnie turned around and felt her heart drop. The white door was half open, but there was no one there.
At the head of the room, she saw Rudy shaking hands with an older woman, and Carol Lockwood raising her glass. There were a few more cheers and polite clapping. Then, people started moving back into the main ballroom. The music started playing. The dancing resumed.
Nothing had happened. There was no one behind the door.
"I don't understand...,"
Klaus surveyed their surroundings before lightly twining his fingers in hers, "Come, let's get some air, shall we?"
The balcony was serene and refreshing in contrast. She hadn't realized how stifling the crowd had been.
They stood by the balustrade, looking over the night.
"What now?" she ventured.
"We wait, and watch. Prophecy and possibility do not always unfold how we imagine."
She chewed on her lower lip, "I don't like the waiting part."
"That makes two of us, love."
That expectant silence welled between them again. Bonnie fumbled for words amid the swirling morass of her feelings. Through it all came the piercing thought that she was grateful for his presence, found it comforting even.
She stole a glance at him.. He was gazing up at the sky, his face contemplative and almost moody in the moonlight. She had the sudden urge to run her thumb along his cheekbone, feel his stubble scratching her palm, see if he would close his eyes into her touch like he did that night in the forest-
Bonnie shook her head internally, as if she could disperse these fluttering moth-like urges so drawn to him. She followed his line of sight into the sky, and the moon's brilliance.
"It's a full moon."
"So it is."
"Shouldn't you be running through the woods howling at the sky?"
He seemed amused, "Are you regretting your invitation?"
"No," she said hastily, feeling suddenly timid, "I just...assumed you had more fun things to do."
"More fun than listening to the Whitmore College orchestra butchering some of my favorite composers? Doubtful."
She couldn't help cracking a grin. The Whitmore music students were notorious for their big-fish-in-a-small-pond complex.
Klaus gave her a sidelong glance, "Although, you are right in one regard. When the moon is full, the night becomes something else, something alive. Everyone senses her power, even humans."
Perhaps the moon was the reason she felt this way, like her skin couldn't contain whatever was simmering underneath. "I...didn't know that."
"The lure is felt in the blood. Here," he brushed two finger tips over the pulse at her throat, then flitted down to the inside of her wrist, "and here."
No, it wasn't just the moon.
"I'm sorry," she blurted, "about the amulet."
Smooth, Bennett. Real smooth.
"Are you now?" he asked, rubbing light circles on her wrist.
"I should have just asked you, or left it alone. It wasn't any of my business."
She wished he would stop touching her wrist. It was hard to think with him standing so close.
"Perhaps my reaction was...harsh," he said in a low voice. "I'm not used to people barging into my head unannounced -"
"I know, I-,"
He slid a finger under her chin, aligning their gazes.
" - and you, troublesome little witch," he sighed, "are in my head quite enough already."
She felt a thousand different things, but the foremost was a kind of elation that made her want to float off the ground. Everything came to a head, she couldn't form thoughts or words. His eyes flickered to her lips. When had he got so close? She couldn't bear it, she would burst if she didn't do something, anything -
-she kissed him.
It was almost a reflex, she was doing it before she was aware she wanted to. She was kissing Klaus. And there was no undoing transgression.
Bonnie broke the kiss, "Sorry, I'm... sorry, I don't know why I did that...,"
She registered his arm around her waist (when had that happened?) and their mouths hovering inches from each other. His eyes searched her face for a clue before resting their foreheads together, "Neither do I."
She bit back a shy smile, "Must be the moon."
Klaus gave a subtle laugh, "Can't argue with astronomy." His other arm sneaked around her and, before she could think, he'd captured her lips in his own. This was not like her kiss, which had the impulsive softness of a daydream. Klaus kissed her with purpose and intensity, like something he'd planned on doing for some time. His hands glided over her back, lingering on the delicate straps of her dress before settling on her waist. His mouth was a velvety addiction, attentive and overwhelming, demanding and sensuous.
Had she been kissed before this? Seen, heard, wanted before this?
Bonnie couldn't remember. She couldn't think. She was melting, melting into him.
They parted and she swayed into him a little, feeling somewhat unsteady on her feet.
Neither of them moved, as though to move would be to break something fragile.
A few more breaths in the moonlight and the orchestra started playing again. A different, more modern tune, familiar and sweet.
Klaus' made a rumbling noise of protest. "I see they are declaring war on Coltrane."
"You're not exactly Mr. Romance, are you?"
He raised an eyebrow, stepping back and pulling her towards him so they fell easily into a slow dance. "And what do contrary little witches find romantic?"
"...you could start by not calling me 'contrary'," she quipped, letting him raise their hands and spin her.
"Would you prefer stubborn? Incorrigible?"
"You know, a less gracious witch might have turned you into a frog already," she replied archly.
"Your magnanimity knows no bounds."
"Don't get smug, I haven't made up my mind yet."
Klaus turned her so she could meet his wicked grin. "Is this to say you plan to kiss me again tonight?"
"Let's see you getting kissed when you're green and slimy," she countered without missing a beat.
It was the most infinitesimal movement on his part, but suddenly she was pulled so close her bodice was pressed into his shirtfront, and her neck arched up of its own volition. The action caused one of her straps to slip down her arm. He replaced the strap slowly, as though he were reluctant to cover up that inch of her bare skin.
"You would leave me to hop around and be hunted by owls? I fail to see the fun in that."
"I'm pretty sure there's plenty of fun in watching you get hunted by an owl."
"Mmm not as much as if you let me keep all my usual extremities," his hand began to slide suggestively lower down her back. "How does that old saying go? All the better to please you with, my dear."
Bonnie was mortified at the funny little coughing noise that came out of her.
"Frog in your throat?"
Her face was burning, she could barely look at him. All she could think about was Caroline waxing on about her hybrid as Klaus' fingers caressed the descending row of pearl buttons on her bodice like piano keys. She had the sudden image of him breaking each one off, scattering them across the floor while the curve of her back was revealed for him.
"...just a little..."
He brushed a stray curl away from her face, clearly enjoying her flustered state, "Penny for your thoughts, love."
"Do you even know what a penny is worth these days?"
His mouth dipped towards her ear, "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."
"What makes you so sure I want to know?" she whispered, feeling rather than seeing his smile.
"Good point, I would much rather show you." Bonnie couldn't contain her gasp when he kissed her neck, down to her collarbone and the soft slope of her shoulder. His scruff tickled her, made her shiver. Klaus hummed against her skin, "It's quite exasperating, how lovely you are."
Her breath left her, soft and pliant. They were suspended in the moonlight. Her strap slipped down again, neither of them moved to replace it.
Bonnie was so engrossed in him she didn't notice the presence at the other end of the balcony until a clear, womanly voice floated over them.
"There's nothing quite like young love, is there?"
Her eyes flew open as a silhouette emerged into view, dressed in dark, glittering purple. The same woman Rudy and Carol had toasted their glasses to. Bonnie noted her slow, graceful walk. Why did it feel familiar?
Klaus curved his arm around her waist, keeping her protectively at his side. She unconsciously drew closer to him as the stranger came to a stop and the moon revealed her face.
The woman smiled faintly at Klaus. Her gaze, deep-set and piercing, matched his evenly. "Your grandfather had much the same look in his eyes when the moon was high." She turned to Bonnie, "Although, I don't think I ever held a candle to your beauty, my dear."
And Bonnie noticed something else, a subtle, rippling change in the air. She sensed it on her skin.
She was in the presence of magic.
Old, powerful magic.
Klaus' jaw was set in a hard line, and Bonnie felt his grip on her tighten ever so slightly. "Who are you?"
Her face grew almost wistful, though her eyes remained lucid, "Dearest Niklaus, I suppose you wouldn't remember me. The last time I saw you, you were but a babe in arms."
She slipped into a different language, one that sounded ancient and stony to Bonnie's ears, yet also full of a swelling depth. The woman spoke with fluent warmth, Klaus more reservedly. His posture was stiff, his fingers digging almost painfully into Bonnie's side. Bonnie touched his hand, drawing his attention and causing his grasp to soften.
"Ástin mín," the stranger said, and somehow Bonnie sensed the words were both an endearment and a command, "won't you introduce me to your lovely companion?"
Klaus gazed down at her for a few more seconds, a questioning look on his face like he was waiting for an answer.
This was another threshold, Bonnie realized, and he was giving her the choice.
She curled her fingers into his.
There was a flash in his eyes like pride, "Very well."
Without relinquishing his hold on her, Klaus enunciated slowly,"Bonnie Bennett, daughter of Abigail Bennett, this is Eira Sigrid, the last of her name."
Sigrid. The word nagged her. She'd heard it before, in a story or a grimoire somewhere. Power radiated in that name and around the woman who carried it.
"You're a witch," Bonnie breathed.
Eira gave a gracious nod, "The same as you, my child."
The lift of her jaw, the tone of voice, the unnervingly deep gaze, Bonnie could've sworn-
She looked to Klaus, then back to Eira. It was uncanny.
"Are you two-,"
Klaus answered her unfinished thought."Related? It would appear so," he narrowed his eyes, "Bonnie, meet...my grandmother."
Bonnie reeled, a hundred questions rising and dying on her lips.
And Eira opened her arms to them, her smile white as bone.
A/N: So, Eira is an OC. She also marks the point where this story becomes even more firmly AU. I've enjoyed toying with the elements of S3 and using them to bring Bonnie and Klaus closer together, but now I think it's time they spread their wings for bigger and better things. Do let me know your thoughts!
