A/N- Part two. Everything in Italics are letters.
Two Years Earlier
'Grams,
I am writing this on the train back to school after having taken the weekend to attend the wedding of Caroline Forbes to Damon Salvatore.
Grams, I know father and mother might have ideas about what they think would be best for me, but promise me that you'll never force me to marry someone I don't love. Nor should I marry someone I think I love if it turns out they aren't a good person.
You must be wondering why I am writing like this, but Damon Salvatore is not a good man, I'm told you knew his father and they are almost to a one, the same person. Caroline only married him because there were terrible rumours about the two of them that I cannot repeat, even on paper, and her father insisted on it as a means of salvaging the family reputation.
Elena Gilbert, a friend of mine, was married at the same time, a double-wedding, to Damon's younger brother, Stefan, who is nice enough, although he certainly likes to drink a lot, as does Damon.
I am sure you are wondering how it was they drank anything, as the American prohibition is famous, but I do believe that banning alcohol has actually led to increased consumption, however, you will be pleased to know that I only consumed one glass of champagne and after that drank only coffee.
Caroline looked lovely in a gown of white silk, and assured me that if nothing else, Mr Salvatore was well-off at least and as such, money would be one issue that she would not have to worry about.
She did not say this because she is shallow, but rather, aside from his handsome features, Damon Salvatore is so without redeeming qualities, that his money is the only reason he has not been run out of town tarred and feathered.
Please Grams, swear to me that I shall never be forced to marry a man I do not love, otherwise, I shall runaway to Australia.
Your loving, if not obedient, granddaughter,
Bonnie.
One Year, Six Months Earlier
'Grams,
I need your advice.
As I have mentioned numerous times in our correspondences, Mr Damon Salvatore is not a good man, or even a man, but rather, an ill-bred demon who would make Vlad the Impaler himself pale in horror.
I was spending the Christmas holidays in Virginia with the Salvatore Family, believing foolishly that with guests around, the Salvatore men would behave in a dignified manner.
I was grossly mistaken.
Stefan Salvatore arrived at the house at midday, so drunk that he could barely stand, and smoking some sort of pipe with something that I do not think was tobacco. Meanwhile, Damon Salvatore flirted outrageously with Elena and when Caroline came upon them suddenly in the sitting room, surprising them by asking if anyone wished for refreshments, he flew into an absolute rage and struck her.
I have not miswritten, he struck her in the face with his closed fist, calling her shallow and useless in front of servants and guests. Thankfully, having learnt from you, I knew how to treat her bruised eye and bleeding nose.
I had thought she would scream or call for the police, however, once the bleeding had stopped, she merely asked once again, if anyone wished for refreshments.
Nobody could stomach the thought of drink or even food. Everyone seemed rendered mute by the scene, except when I returned to the room, it was to find Elena once again being wooed by her brother-in-law.
At lunch, I was seated next to Jeremy Gilbert who inferred that he had scars on his neck from a time when Damon had attacked him for interrupting a conversation between him and his sister.
Grams, I am afraid that if I do not do something, we shall find ourselves reading Caroline's obituary in the evening paper.
Please help me,
Your loving but afraid granddaughter,
Bonnie.
One Year Five Months Earlier
'Dr Elijah Mikaelson,
It has been many years since we last had a proper conversation, though many times we have seen each other at social events and exchanged pleasantries. Still, I have never forgot the sweet young children my cousin Ayana was a firm yet loving governess to, nor the wicked Kol, who I am sure still harbours a strong love for theatrics, snails, snakes and slugs.
I am writing as I wish to ask a favour of you and your family, one that I cannot put onto paper as I could not quite think of how best to word such a request.
But I am sure that you will gladly humour an old family friend and meet with me this Saturday at my home, Alderley Manor. Please do phone to let me know if you shall take the morning train, there is also a golf course nearby if you would prefer a round after lunch.
Yours, etc.
Sheila Bennett,
Right honourable…etc.
One Year Five Months Earlier
'My Dear Mrs Bennett,
How could I ever forget such a friend of my family? Especially when you were so kind to us when my father fell ill with that strange sickness no doctor could find a cure for? Such a horrifically trying time, and you were like a second mother to my young sister after our own sought comfort in God and a Carmelite convent in the very heart of Africa, (I am pleased to say that I receive regular reports from the Mother Superior and that my mother has felt the call so strongly, that she has converted to Catholicism and taken a vow of silence. I am sure there is a special place reserved for her in the afterlife.)
Naturally, my family owes you a great debt for this service and I would be more than pleased to meet with you and discuss any way in which we might aid you.
Yours faithfully,
Dr Elijah Mikaelson.
Six Months Earlier
'My Dear Caroline,
I am sure you don't remember an old woman like me, especially since we haven't met since you were but a newborn in your mother's arms. However, as you are such a good friend to my granddaughter, I feel as though you will forgive me for addressing you in such a forward manner.
As you are no doubt aware, I shall soon be calling my granddaughter back to England, as the passage from America to England is long and can be quite tedious, especially for an unwed girl, I was hoping you and your dear husband would accompany her at my expense. I would feel greatly relieved knowing she was with friends. Of course, I would gladly host you and your husband in London for the season, which I am sure a beautiful young woman like yourself would thoroughly enjoy (and dare I say, a glass of champagne or two?)
Telegram your reply and I will book the tickets today'
Sincerely,
Mrs Bennett.
Right honourable etc.
"What the hell is this rubbish?"
Caroline looked up from her stitching as a piece of paper landed in her lap. Frowning, she picked it up and saw her name, her stomach dropping before she scanned the handwriting and realised that Tyler Lockwood hadn't penned this missive.
The young man had used to write her from his school in the Appalachians, where he taught young children languages, until her husband had started opening all mail addressed to her and flown into a fury. She had telegrammed Tyler, asking him not to contact her again.
She had valued his letters, but she valued her life more.
"An invitation to escort Bonnie to her grandmother's and visit Britain," she reports dutifully, placing the letter beside her on the couch and resuming her stitching,
"I think it is a fanciful idea."
Damon frowns, "What? You don't want to spend a season drinking tea and eating boiled meats?"
"Seriously?!" she laughed, "Even in first class, being on a ship for a week would surely be horrible and the English drink beer from morning until afternoon, when they insist on drinking whisky like it is water. Not to mention the weather will be terrible, I will have to stay inside all the time and the English women are so fast!"
She shivers dramatically and squares her shoulders, hiding her wince of pain and keeps her eyes on her stitching, breathing in through her mouth so the stench of moonshine on her husband wouldn't make her recoil.
"I could do with a holiday," Damon announces, "If anyone asks, we'll tell them that I'm looking to expand the company into Britain."
Caroline merely hums, "If you say so, dear."
Three Months Earlier
"Knock, knock."
Damon Salvatore raised his head and glared at the British man leaning against the door to his cabin, "Can I help you?"
The man had his hands in his pockets and pushed off against the polished wood with a grin,
"I was about to ask the same question," he announced with a grin,
"Niklaus Mikaelson, Mrs Bennett is a family friend and told me that her granddaughter would be on this ship."
He glances around the one bed suite, "Although, I assume not in this room?"
Damon rolled his eyes, "Obviously not, she's rooming with my wife, next door."
The young man grinned and didn't leave as Damon had rather hoped he would,
"Excellent," he reaches into his jacket and withdraws a rather ornate flask,
"Then, even though it's only just after lunch, I hope you won't mind a drink?"
Damon raised an eyebrow, "I thought alcohol was banned until we left U.S waters?"
Niklaus grinned, "My oldest brother is an Earl, they wouldn't dare arrest me, besides, half the crew has been sipping on sherry since before we even launched."
Damon takes the proffered flask and tips his head back, pouring as much alcohol into his mouth as he can before swallowing and coughing.
"Strong stuff!" he gasps, the fumes making his eyes water and Niklaus chuckles,
"Yes, it was a gift from my sister-in-law, a Russian, woman can't fathom the idea of a full day without vodka."
"My kind of woman," Damon quipped, turning to the side table and looking around for glasses, "I wish my own wife was half as good as that."
"Hello?"
Damon rolled his eyes, "Speak of the devil." He drawls as his wife breezes into his cabin as if it was their damn living room, he glares at her and she falters, her shoulders dropping as she tries to make herself small.
As if he couldn't hit a small target.
"What do you want?!" he demands, and she looks about uncertainly,
"The captain has invited us to dine at his table this evening," she informed him, "He is quite a lovely man."
Why did she have to have such a grating voice?
"Go annoy him then!" he snaps, "I'm busy."
She flinches and pastes a wide smile on her face as she turns to Niklaus,
"Hello," she sticks out her hand in a forward manner Elena would never have shown.
"Caroline Salvatore."
Niklaus takes her hand, turns it gently and kisses the back of it, bowing slightly,
"Niklaus Mikaelson, pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Which has been made," Damon announces, "So Caroline can go now."
She glares at him, she is so irritated when he is rude to her around strangers, but she won't dare say anything unless he decides to have her come to his cabin at night time.
Niklaus follows Caroline with his eyes and when she is gone, he reaches into his other pocket and takes out another flask,
"I have more where that came from," he grins as Damon drinks the last of the vodka, "I've been in Chicago and nearly died of thirst."
Chortling, Damon happily follows Niklaus back to his own cabin, which isn't as nice as his own but has three bottles of whisky stashed away.
"Aren't you English supposed to be cold and reserved?" he asks, as he helps himself to the first bottle,
"Not with drinking mates."
Damon thought calling them mates was a little presumptuous, especially when this was only the younger brother of an Earl and clearly not as rich as he was, however, he'd make-do until the steamer could start serving booze.
He had to put up with him for the better part of a day before a staff member finally told him that the bar was open, at which point, he left Niklaus at the dining table with his wife and Miss Bennett and didn't see him again, although when he did later hear that the man spent the week pretty much sober, taking long walks on the promenades with his wife and Miss Bennett, having long conversations about art and the beauty of the ocean.
Possibly one of those men.
Friday Morning
Damon felt as though he had only just returned home.
Yet, already that damn clock on the mantelpiece was striking ten and his bloody wife was at the door, putting on her gloves and announcing that it was time to leave or they'd miss the train.
Good.
Let them miss it.
He had ideas of what a fun weekend would entail and none of them involved being at bloody Alderley Manor, playing nice with the ancient Bennett witch while he pretended to give a damn about whatever it was women discussed.
In truth, it was hard to remember when he hadn't been sober, since leaving American waters.
Who knew the British could be so fun?
Or their women so accommodating.
Granted, the ones he paid attention to all seemed to have an unclean air about them, a bit of a hard look in their eyes but he hadn't had to bother himself with his wife's bed in weeks.
It was nice to share a bed with someone who wasn't a nag or prone to tears.
When he got back to America, he'd get himself a proper mistress.
A brunette one.
He can't remember where the hell they're supposed to go, but Caroline gives the instructions to the cab driver and they reach King's Cross, finding the right platform and walking towards the first-class carriages when he hears his name called.
He sees one of the Mikaelson brothers- there was a lot of them- approaching and tries to remember which one this is.
Brown hair but not a stuck-up prig, so…
"Hello," Caroline intercepts the man, "Nice to see you again, Kol."
Kol's head swivels but he grins at her, "Hello, love," he says, jovially, "How have you been?"
The two of them exchange pleasantries and Damon starts to feel a headache coming on.
"My brother is somewhere about," Kol announces, "He might have an answer for you about that gallery you mentioned last time, why don't you go find him while your husband and I get the bags, hmmm?"
Caroline has been well trained to recognize a dismissal when she hears one and obediently shuffles off, accepting a hand from a stranger into the train and Kol slings an arm around his shoulders, "Come on, mate," he cries, "There's a bar here and we have at least thirty minutes till we have to be on the train."
Damon grins, "Lead the way."
Alderley Manor
Friday Evening
"I can't believe I haven't met you earlier," Damon crooned, leaning close to Katerina as she laughed flirtatiously, the scent of vodka and cigarette smoke making his mouth water,
"You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen."
She pouts, sitting back on the couch and turning her eyes away, "Not the most beautiful?" she demands, her Russian accent adding to her charm.
He flares his eyes at her playfully and she jumps up, sashaying to the wet bar and pouring two glasses almost to the brim with vodka,
"I thought this was done in smaller amounts?" Damon questions as she hands him his drink, making her laugh as she sat down on the couch, closer than last time,
"For the English perhaps," she whispers conspiratorially, glaring at her husband,
"But Russians and real men," she put her hand on his knee, "They drink full glass, da?"
He grins, shifting his knee so her hand brushes up to his thigh, "Da."
Suddenly, Mrs Bennett clears her throat, causing Katerina to start and withdraw her hand,
"I do believe it is time to retire ladies," she declares, sweeping across the room to pry the glass of vodka from Katerina's hand and give it to Damon,
"Gentlemen," she addresses the room, "We shall see you in the morning."
With one last flirtatious wink, Katerina stands and follows their host from the room, nearly bumping shoulders with his boring wife as they leave.
Klaus and Kol leave pretty soon after that, Kol had been restrained since they arrived, more interested in Bonnie then having fun and there was something about Klaus that rubbed Damon the wrong way.
Elijah, he didn't particularly give a damn about, the man was utterly boring, his only saving grace was that he sent the servants to bed which allowed Damon to refill his drink more regularly, without the judgemental or watchful eye of a butler.
He sat watching the fire, sipping on the drink in his hand that he had long since forgot the name of when he looks up and notices that the ponce is leaving the room.
Good.
He finishes the glass and stands up, intending to refill at the wet bar before swaying and realising that it was maybe time to cut himself off.
Bed sounded good right now.
Even if the woman in it was a boring old blonde.
He cuts through the hall and a soft whistle has him glancing up, halting in his tracks as he sees Katerina leaning over the balcony, in her dressing gown, with her hair down, her cigarette holder in one hand and a piece of paper in the other.
She smirks when their eyes meet and tosses the paper down, where it hits the tiled floor, and watches as he bends down to pick it up, opening it up to see a hastily scrawled note.
'Go downstairs to the kitchen where we will not be disturbed, I will follow. Burn this note.'
He already feels his cock beginning to harden as he begins tearing up the paper and looks back up to her, she points one delicate finger back to the parlour where the fire was still crackling merrily in the hearth.
He tosses the note into the fire, watching it curl and burst into flame before having a moment of regret.
If he'd kept that note, he could have used it for blackmail later on.
Ah well, perhaps he'd get another chance at a later date.
He doesn't know exactly where the servants quarters are, so it takes him awhile until he spots an obscure door and opening it, sees a staircase leading down into darkness.
Damon senses a presence behind him and starts to grin…
Until a hand clamps over his mouth, bony, hard, male and an arm wraps around his throat.
The last thing he sees is the darkness below.
The last thing he feels is him soiling himself.
Kol Mikaelson waits until Elijah silently descends to the bottom of the stairs before he drops the body he was holding in his arms letting it tumble down until it landed on the floor in a heap.
His brother crouched down, checked for a pulse, held an ornate pocket mirror under the nose and then stepped back, nodding in confirmation before stepping carefully over the corpse to reach his side.
The two of them look around to ensure that nobody is watching before heading up to the gallery. Kol was rather tempted to laugh, after all, they were dressed for bed in silk robes and pyjamas, but he managed to keep it in until they reached a window, tucking back the curtain to look outside.
"Bloody hell, my arm is tired," he mutters quietly, "Haven't had to do that since the war."
"I should rather hope not," Elijah replies, "Thank-you, by the way."
He shrugs, even as he feels a blush of pride, "Our family debt is paid…"
He pauses and chews his lip thoughtfully,
"His widow will be alright?" he asks cautiously, "Only, she's quite nice and friendly, in spite of everything that bastard did to her."
Elijah exhales quietly, "Mrs Bennett will look out for her, perhaps she shall even stay on in Britain, we could invite her and the Miss Bennett to Epsom."
Kol brightens up considerably at the prospect, no more concerned about the corpse on the ground floor than he was about the weather three weeks from now.
"I do hope the investigation will be over quickly," he sighs as Elijah drops the curtain and they begin walking back to their bedrooms.
"Only, Bonnie and I wanted to go for a walk tomorrow afternoon."
Three Weeks Later
Elijah had 'accidentally' run into Inspectors Crale and Green at Grosvenor Square and politely insisted that they join him for lunch at a nearby restaurant.
"Mr Salvatore's father is kicking up a bit of a fuss," Inspector Crale offers as explanation for their presence outside the American embassy,
"Insisting that we investigate the matter further."
Elijah hums sympathetically, "Of course, losing a child must be a horrific trial, but, we already buried the body, did we not?"
"Cremated," Inspector Green interjected, before glancing down at the menu, "Mrs Salvatore had the body cremated."
"Oh yes, I remember, the poor dear was worried about sending it back to America and thought it would be easier for everyone if it was sent in an urn."
"A little strange, wasn't it?" Inspector Crale queried, "That she didn't go back to America after her husband's death."
Elijah kept his eyes on the menu,
"Not at all," he answered, quite casually as he turned his attention to the wine list, "Between you and I, I don't believe there was any love lost between Mrs Salvatore and her in-laws and even if there were…" he cleared his throat, "Mr Salvatore accrued quite a few debts while he was in London, debts which Mrs Salvatore will have to see paid before she could return home."
"Debts with pubs and unsavoury places you mean?" Green prompts and Elijah nods,
"Unfortunately."
Inspector Crale exhales, waiting until their orders had been taken before resuming the conversation,
"As Mr Salvatore was a foreign citizen, we had to be thorough with the investigation,"
"Naturally," Elijah offered,
"And though we asked nearly a hundred people in London about Mr Salvatore, to a one, they all described him as a drunk degenerate who only put down the liquor long enough to pick up a woman."
"We interviewed some of those women as well." Green added, "Not even they had a good word to say about him."
Elijah should certainly hope not, the amount of effort that had been put into sourcing these prostitutes and spreading the word through the necessary channels that Damon Salvatore was on the prowl for paid low-quality company without leaving anything that could be traced back to a Mikaelson had been the most he or his loved ones had spent since the war.
"Are you questioning the ruling of accidental death?" Elijah asked, "I daresay, the thought that the man- whatever he was in live- could have been murdered sends chills up my spine."
Inspector Crale shook his head resignedly, "Mr Salvatore is quite furious but really, there's no reason to suspect that his son was killed, he was a known alcoholic and harasser of maids, it is very plausible that he went to the servants quarters with the intention of flirting with a maid and fell to his death down the dark stairs."
Elijah leaned back in his chair, "Tragic, but, the sooner this is over, the sooner we can all get on with our lives."
Six Months Later
"Really, Niklaus," Elijah chastised the moment he walked through the door of his London studio,
"You are an uncouth boar!"
Klaus rolled his eyes, "And you are so stuffy, we could put you in Father's old hunting room and display you with the taxidermized bear."
Elijah huffs in derision but pauses to admire his latest work,
"When I told the family to have an open-door policy towards Mrs Salvatore in her trying time, I meant the front door, not the bedroom door."
Klaus hissed, "Who bloody told you I was trying to seduce her?"
"Have you forgot to whom I am married?"
"Has she forgot that the only reason she's allowed to remain on British soil is that she swore to give up spying?"
"I do not have any concerns that the British government will deport or hang my wife for spying on her in-laws, especially when, for all intents and purposes, we spent the war skiing in Switzerland."
"Oh," Klaus answered, with sarcastic surprise, "Is that where we were? And here I thought we were so far behind enemy lines that we were essentially drinking Schnapps in the Tiergarten."
"I still maintain that war would have been finished in a single year if I could have convinced you or Kol to not loiter outside that blasted bar."
Klaus sniggered, before balancing his paintbrush on the easel,
"Big brother," he began, turning around, "Caroline Forbes is enchanting, she's strong, beautiful, full of light, a bloody survivor if ever I saw one and quite frankly, I have every intention of courting her properly once the right amount of time has passed."
Elijah lowered his eyes and adjusted the cufflink in his sleeve, "Niklaus, I have no doubt that your intentions for this young woman are honourable and pure, however, Mrs Bennett called on us for our skills and our discretion, we owe her a considerable debt, which does not include the majority of our family and possibly even her dancing on the end of a rope for murder."
"I'm hardly going to tell a woman I fancy that I helped off her bloody husband," he protested.
"When you're in love, you'll tell that person all your secrets," Elijah murmured sadly,
"Why do you think it is they tell spies to never fall in love?"
One Year Later
"You know, I'm not an idiot."
Niklaus had been staring at Caroline Salvatore on and off for the last hour, but now he raised his eyes off her painted image to the model stationed by the window, her head tilted to catch the morning light.
"Never thought you were, sweetheart," he replied, "Your sharp mind is one of your most attractive features."
She hummed disbelievingly, "Did you know that my mother worked on the police force during the war?" she stated, seemingly veering off topic and he turned his attention back to the canvas, "Did she?"
"Mystic Falls is quite a small town, she had worked there as a secretary and even after she had married my father, had been allowed to continue on, then, when the war began, she was allowed to work as a police officer, I found it dreadfully exciting."
He wonders if he's mixed the right shade of blue, "I'm sure you did." He murmurs without really hearing her,
"It's why I grew up fascinated with crime and the manner in which policemen caught the criminals."
His hand stills as Klaus begins to realise where Caroline was going with this pointed conversation, however, his training told him to continue playing the fool.
"Oh?" he made a sound of surprise, "Well, that is interesting."
She rolls her eyes, "What is interesting was that a man who was friends with the Bennett family happened to be aboard the same transatlantic journey as Bonnie and aware of the fact, yet Mrs Bennett had asked Damon and I to escort her to Britain. What is interesting was that you drank with my husband only until the bar opened, as which point you were almost immediately sober and uninterested in him. What is interesting was the manner in which my husband couldn't take a step outside our front door without one of your brothers appearing drink in hand, what is interesting was that none of you seemed to like my husband very much, nor were you in need of his business connections but whenever he stumbled home capable of speech, he mentioned your names. What is interesting was the manner in which your sister-in-law poured him generous amounts of vodka, yet herself drank only water and every time he turned his head, she was making eyes at her husband. And that nobody in the house found the behaviour inappropriate, or thought to say anything…"
"Finally," she notes, standing up and stretching, "I know the depth and distance necessary for a man of my husband's height and weight to break his neck falling down the stairs and those ones that supposedly ended his life were exactly four steps too short."
His mouth is dry and he swallows, placing down his tools before taking a step towards her, expecting her to step back, perhaps to panic or flee the apartment.
Instead, she takes his hands and squeezes them, meeting his eyes with a steady gaze.
"Damon Salvatore was a monster," she declared, fiercely, "An abusive, horrible person and death was too good for him, I had planned to kill him myself, many, many times, but I couldn't figure out how to do it without being caught. Thank-you, for doing it for me."
His lips are pressed tightly together but he manages a stiff nod, "Don't mention it," he mumbles, before adding quickly, "Truly, love, don't."
She smirks, "I'm not about to go shouting it from the rooftops, don't worry Nik…I just…didn't want our future to begin with a lie is all."
Tenderly, she reached up and gave him a chaste kiss, "Shall we get tickets to the opera? Or perhaps the ballet? Also, I want to meet your sister, so when are her school holidays?"
Niklaus watched her glide about the room, chatting amiably and smiled to himself.
She would make a perfect Mikaelson.
A/N- Tiergarten is in Berlin, Germany.