A.N.: It's the big five-oh! Fifty chapters of Giulia! So a little more Giulijah to celebrate.

When I think of Giulijah, I keep coming back to the Far from the Madding Crowd (2015) soundtrack; the music is stunning, the violins are so emotive. Listen to it, I promise you won't be disappointed. Hell, watch the film, too – but I call dibs on Gabriel. I will claw your eyes out if you try to take him away.


Drunken Binges, Funerals and Formals

50

Ulterior Motives


He remained in the studio, delighted with the finished starling. He had never not completed an egg before the solstice. And that Giulia had known what needed fixing in mere moments while he had spent months frustrated by it… It was continuous, the effort he put into his designs, every year he rejected dozens of ideas, refining, redesigning, he did truly spend the majority of his time working on the eggs. For Gyda. But strangely, as he drew his materials closer, the face he pictured in his mind as he started to draw wasn't Gyda's. Many times the women in his life had inspired art, music…Giulia stood out in his mind as he started to draw, the many enigmatic aspects to the mesmerising young-woman she was. The more he learned of her, the more questions he had to ask. The more she learned of him, he feared, the fewer secrets he would be able to hold on to. And yet for the first time in a very long time, beyond memory, he didn't mind the idea.

Nearer to eleven a.m. the ladies wandered into the studio. Françoise-Amélie, dressed elegantly in neat white trousers and a sleeveless white top that brushed her knees, her hair drawn up into a loose style, and Vera, her hair glowing like burnished copper in the sun, her jewelled crucifix pendant flashing, sauntered in carrying tea-trays and a laptop whirring tiredly; Françoise-Amélie abused technology, she didn't understand it.

"Designing something new?" Vera asked, her smile sly as she noticed Elijah hastily covering the pages of his sketchbook. "Don't grow shy on our account."

"I thought you eschewed all modern technology, Amélie," Elijah said, deflecting.

"It is Chocolat's," Amélie responded, setting the laptop down on a clear worktop. She bent at the waist as Vera poured tea and offered Elijah some biscuits the girls had made the other afternoon. She tapped away at the keypad before turning the screen so that Elijah could see it; she was frowning as a photograph loaded on the Facebook webpage. "Were you going to mention this?"

Elijah sighed heavily, took a sip of warming tea and brought the laptop closer, examining the photograph. Chocolat, an accepted friend of Giulia's on Facebook, had found his way onto her photograph albums – Elijah knew she had altered her settings recently to almost completely private, and yet here Chocolat had found an incriminating photograph. Four girls, one very petite, African-American descent, one tall, blonde and bubbly-looking, there was Giulia, looking fed-up, sardonic and tired, and a fourth girl. Olive-skinned, dark-eyed, unnaturally slender. He hovered over the photograph, names appearing where the girls had been 'tagged': Bonnie Bennett, Caroline Forbes, Giulia Salvatore, and Elena Gilbert.

The moment Chocolat had found the photograph he had shown it to Elijah; a doppelganger. Or at least Katerina masquerading as a human girl. Wearing an ancient amulet so familiar to Elijah the sight of her wearing it was like a kick in the teeth.

"That is Rebekah's pendant she is wearing, Elijah," Françoise-Amélie half-whispered. Neither she nor Chocolat were old enough to know what Katerina looked like, Vera did only due to Isak's sketches. It was the pendant that had caught Chocolat's attention, as it had Françoise-Amélie's now. "There is now way Katerina could have come by that necklace unless –"

"Unless she somehow managed to kill Rebekah for it," Elijah interrupted. "That is not Katerina Petrova." Françoise-Amélie's pale eyes widened, Vera looking own at her teacup almost sadly as realisation dawned on their friend.

"A doppelganger?" she breathed. "And…la bella Giulia?... Please tell me you did not bring her here on account of this."

Elijah frowned, standing from his workplace. He did not like the shameful heat suffusing his skin under Françoise-Amélie's accusing gaze. She had never allowed him or his family to prey upon the vulnerable, so used to being the victim herself. He went and stood over by the piano, gazing out of the window. Down in the snow he could see Cara bombarding the two girls with snowballs. "Why would you ask me that?"

"Because I, better than many, know how your mind works," Françoise-Amélie said quietly. "And your brother's. A living doppelganger wearing the most recognisable piece of jewellery in our culture! And an orphan human in the same photograph? Did you bring her here to keep her here?" Elijah did not respond for a moment, though he frowned over his shoulder. The idea had occurred to him; keep Giulia here, keep her safe. No-one could demand answers from her but Elijah himself…

"The moonstone is lost," was all he said. "Without it, no number of doppelgangers will be anything more than worthless."

"She's a living person, Elijah…none of them are worthless," Françoise-Amélie sighed sadly. "When Klaus sees that image, do you think he'll be angrier there's a doppelganger living, or that she wears Rebekah's necklace? She never took that off."

"Most likely it fell out of her possession when Niklaus daggered her through the heart." He said it offhandedly, cold and uncaring; but the two knew him better than that. Vera lived in sorrow of Isak's absence, and Françoise-Amélie had been friends with Rebekah for decades before Niklaus had daggered her over her affair with Marcellus.

"You think Niklaus – of course," Françoise-Amélie sighed, her eyes narrowing. "When was the last time you saw your baby-sister?"

"The fires. We separated as the city burned, I led Mikael away – there were signs, and more than whispers," Elijah added. "Niklaus and Rebekah had taken up with the Ripper of Monterrey in Chicago."

Françoise-Amélie's pale taupe eyebrows rose. "The Ripper? He hasn't been seen for decades, Alexia all but plucked his fangs… Rebekah and the Ripper? She always did have abominable taste. You, on the other hand…" She caught Elijah glancing back at the laptop-screen where Giulia's face smirked out rather insolently. "You like this girl… The doppelganger, wearing evidence of your sister's death, and yet your eyes return to her, again and again."

"I need no evidence to know Rebekah is dead," Elijah said, and even to himself he sounded cold and aloof. "Klaus daggered her for fifty years simply for following her heart."

"For disobeying him." Françoise-Amélie rolled her eyes.

"Strange how those two seemed always to coincide," Elijah said softly. "Please say nothing to her. She struggles enough already. I would not be the cause of further suffering."

"It's unavoidable," Vera spoke up gently.

"Your suggestion?"

"Ask her. If she is as clever as Vera think, she'll see through you soon enough – if she hasn't already," Françoise-Amélie said. "Look how annoyed she is in that picture." She frowned, upset. Françoise-Amélie and Rebekah had always been fast friends, since the Casket Girl days. "How could the doppelganger have Rebekah's necklace?"

"If the rumours are true, Rebekah took up with the Ripper in the 1920s," Elijah said, gazing out of the window and seeing a glittering speakeasy lush with jazz music and immaculate women, Kol mixing drinks and laughing, his sister Rebekah so in love. 1917 had been the last time they were a family, scattered and divided as they were. "The Ripper of Monterrey, when he has his humanity, is known as Stefan Salvatore. Giulia's great-uncle, four generations removed. He now attends the same high-school where he courts Giulia's friend Elena Gilbert."

"Rebekah's boy-toy gave her necklace to his new girlfriend?" Françoise-Amélie's eyes widened, and she whistled low under her breath. "It's a good thing Rebekah has a silver dagger embedded in her chest."

"Mm."

"Perhaps this girl might prove a great ally," Françoise-Amélie said, tilting her head thoughtfully at the photograph of Giulia and her friends.

"Perhaps." Elijah did not want to hope for that. But he was curious. "You know Damon Salvatore, don't you?"

"Better than most. I know there's no-one he hates more fiercely than his brother – and no-one he'd protect more viciously…" Françoise-Amélie said, and frowning at the photograph on the screen her eyes widened as something struck her memory. "I've heard of her – he helped raise the child after her mother's death. He lives for her…or did, while he waited…"

"For Katherine," Elijah murmured. "Someone who loves so deeply and so loyally for so long is a rare thing."

"And yet I know Damon. He'll be hurt, but he'll conceal it, until it turns to anger. His hurt will turn to hate," Françoise-Amélie shrugged. "Katherine has made many an enemy. And you don't want Damon Salvatore as an enemy."

"How similar are they? Damon and Giulia Salvatore?"

"From what I've seen, and realising the connection, very, at least on the surface. We will always only ever see what they want us to see," Amélie mused. "Damon is enigmatic and unpredictable, and he holds his feelings very private. And he is ruthless when protecting those he cares about." She paused. "You'd like him."

"Perhaps."

"So…a doppelganger lives," Amélie sighed. "And Katerina Petrova is within reach. And I'd worried that my retirement would be dull."

"A doppelganger lives – and yet as long as Katerina remains lost so shall the moonstone," Elijah said warningly. "And I would have no-one attempt to snatch the girl to gain favour with Niklaus." Amélie raised an eyebrow, holding her hands out, palms out, in defence. After a moment, she sighed.

"You know how he gets when people try to deceive him. One way or another it will become known – either that a doppelganger lives or Katerina Petrova's whereabouts are known," she said, gesturing at the laptop. "It's all over the internet."

Elijah frowned at the machine. "Perhaps I should impose a blanket ban on all vampires using social-media… Or perhaps I shall just ensure Mystic Falls is protected. I have waited too long for Katerina's many enemies to forfeit this opportunity." He saw Amélie and Vera exchange a look.

"You're going to try to get them back," Vera breathed, hope and uncertainty warring across her usually so impassive features.

"It's past time," Elijah said quietly. Klaus had snatched Gyda from Russia as the Tsar had fallen, without Elijah's consent – if what he feared was accurate, Rebekah had not long seen the 1920s. "The last time I saw Klaus he claimed to have sunk them into the seas."

"You don't believe that?" Amélie said quietly.

"I know my brother. Not his style," Elijah said, with a warped smile as pain rendered through his body. "He'd never relinquish control, not even to Nature herself. No. He keeps them close. As he always has."

"And you want to use this girl as leverage?" Amélie said softly, glancing at the photograph. He did not know if she meant Giulia or the doppelganger. "He'll dagger you simply for daring to withhold what he views is rightfully his. Of all your family, Klaus has daggered you least. Don't let the one time he does last for eternity."

"Are they not worth it? Isak, Lagertha…Gyda," Elijah said, emotion taking a hold over his voice. He sipped his tea, and Vera gazed into nothingness, staring past him. Emotion had flickered across her marble-like features at the sound of his brother's name. "I'm certain Niklaus must have caught up with Willem, I have heard nothing of him, not in decades, since he left Manhattan in the 1970s." The two had met for the first time in centuries in Manhattan, just by change; Elijah had returned to Manhattan in the 1960s after enjoying England for several decades, experiencing the most modern warfare he had ever seen in a thousand years. He could still hear the sirens, feel the shudder of the bombs… He and Willem…the brother they had lost centuries ago, they had bonded – Willem had been in Australia when the first War started, had fought in Egypt; during the Second World War he had been captured as a prisoner-of-war and held in Burma…five miles from where Elijah had been investigating sightings of Lagertha at the very same time. But they had ended up in Manhattan in the 1970s – Willem had opened a grungy punk nightclub; Elijah was saddened by the end of the sophisticated 1960s with the martinis and immaculate women… Willem had fled the city shortly after learning Elijah had set up a community there.

Running. Always running – Willem more than any other of their siblings had always disdained Niklaus, finding difficulty in tolerating his devolving personality – enduring his bullying. Willem had never been like them, their mother's magic had worked differently with him than the others… And Niklaus always took advantage, never forgetting that in their human lives, Willem had always been the braver, the stronger, the unyielding one, talented with spear and axe, fearless in the shield-wall… A true Viking without ever having set foot on the earth of their forefathers, never having tasted the salt-sea of Kattegat.

"Does Niklaus forget he swore an oath of fealty to you in turn?" Amélie sighed. She already knew that answer.

"Usually."

"How does a normal child turn into that?" Amélie asked, glancing at Vera. "His siblings are alright."

"There is always one," Vera said, waving an elegant hand negligently. "My fifth attempted to have me tried for witchcraft."

"Wasn't Pietro always your least-favourite?"

"Carafina did Rome a favour when she butchered him."

"Oh, look, Victoire has joined the fray," Elijah marked, peering out of the window; a tall streak with vibrant fuchsia victory-rolls had appeared in the snow. "That pink hair does bring back memories. The powder was a daintier pink, of course."

"It was a very long time ago," Amélie smiled gently. She had come to New Orleans from a rigid upbringing at Versailles, already turned by Gyda when she had started dying of smallpox. In those days, panniers, coloured powders and beauty-spots had been the fashion. And Amélie had always been at the forefront of fashion; every year they met in Paris and Milan for Fashion Week. She tutted. "Trousers! She was the first to wear them, I remember. She is attending the university now, you know?"

"If it gives her joy, who is to stop her?" Elijah said softly, watching the quartet out in the snow.

"That is just the indulgent, compensative attitude that created Klaus," Vera chided gently.

"Indeed." Amélie approached him, peering over his shoulder into the gardens. She glanced back at him, grasping his shoulder comfortingly.

"Talk to her, Elijah."

"I don't know that now is the time to test her."

"When is it ever?" Amélie said. "She seems strong – asking won't break her."

"The girl in the photograph…Giulia's relatives have fallen captive to the doppelganger's spell…" he sighed. He knew how powerful it was. Elijah had been a loyal lover all his life, had never betrayed one of his lovers – had been true to his wife. And yet the progenitor of the doppelganger line had tried to tempt him – he might even have given in, had it not been for her dual interest in Niklaus. "If I were to ask Giulia about the girl Damon and Stefan, her only remaining family, frequently pass her over for… I don't wish to be the one who makes Giulia Salvatore question her loyalties."

"Always so upstanding, Elijah," Vera smiled, and it was a heart-breaking sight. "It is your greatest strength, and yet it has always been your downfall… If Giulia Salvatore's loyalties alter, it will be because of how she has been treated, and she has made the decision herself. Flattering as it might be to think you could have such an impact on someone like Giulia."

"Someone like Giulia?"

"She would choose death over disloyalty. If her loyalties shift it's because others have betrayed her. Once you have her loyalty, she's yours. Until you forfeit the privilege…" Amélie said, watching the girls out the window. "Damon is the same, I imagine he wielded some influence over Giulia during her childhood."

"I imagine so," Elijah murmured as the ladies left him to his sketchbooks, to musing on Giulia Salvatore, and trying to build up the nerve to approach Giulia about his ulterior motives. Wishing he didn't have any when it came to her. The girls found him, an hour later, placing cold meats, a dish of baked beans and an enormous skillet of bubble-and-squeak on the table in the kitchen.

"The decorators are here," he explained, when he told Victoire they were under strict "human rules" for the next few hours. No vampire powers. Elijah did not wish to have to exert himself cleaning up messes made by the others, not if it meant he had to help with the decorating.

"How was the snow?" Elijah asked, as the girls heaped their plates with bubble-and-squeak and cold-cuts. It was one of his favourite causal lunch meals in miserable weather, remnant of his time in England.

"Good – we helped Cara finish the Little Snow of Horrors," Ashlyn grinned. "We're going to work on another one after lunch."

"The theme?"

"The Eleventh," Giulia beamed, sipping her coffee. "If he and the Ponds went to a tundra planet."

"Here I'd thought you might take a nap after lunch," Elijah said, observing her. Giulia's eyes were brighter, there was a flush in her cheeks, her long side-braid was mussed and snow had melted in it, but she looked happy.

"Actually, we were thinking of doing some baking before we go back out," Ashlyn said. "Thaw out our toes before we tempt hypothermia again." Giulia nodded.

"What are we making this afternoon?" Elijah asked, glancing at Giulia, sipping her coffee.

"Giulia and her dad made Christmas cookies every year," Ashlyn smiled shyly. She had lost her own parents and yet she was still awkward about discussing another person losing theirs too. Perhaps because she didn't know what to say herself when the subject was brought up.

"Do you have the recipes with you?" Elijah asked, surprised, and Giulia nodded.

"I scanned them to my laptop a while ago," she said, sighing.

"I'm gonna go have a shower before we start baking, if that's okay – I'm frozen," Ashlyn said, rubbing her arms as her teeth chattered.

"Rub your chest," Elijah instructed her over the rim of his coffee-cup. "Your arms will take care of themselves." Ashlyn shrugged, and Giulia wolfed down a second helping of bubble-and-squeak and cold-cuts. Once again, Giulia did the washing-up without being asked, ever the helpful guest. Ashlyn wandered off for a shower, and Giulia's young cat Firenze found her, rubbing his way around her ankles and purring loudly. She reached down to pick up the small furry bundle, and cuddled him; Elijah reflected on his own sadness at the passing of Grace, his chocolate-brown Cocker Spaniel.

"Giulia…" He frowned, and sighed subtly. If he had to, he would rather ask her now, not wait. He had never been a fan of postponing awkward situations. Sooner or later he would have to squirm. He blinked several times, and frowned at her. "May I have a word?"

Giulia regarded him with an even expression, and said, "Sure." He nodded, and indicate she follow him; they returned to his workshop, where the laptop whirred back into life as he tapped the mouse-pad. He sighed.

"Giulia, how much do you know…of the Original story? Or of…curses…?"

"I know there's a curse the Original family take particular interest in," Giulia said, and her voice had taken on a guarded edge he could not blame her for. Firenze purred subtly in her arms as she scratched him behind the ears.

"And…Katerina… With your great-uncles I imagine you are familiar with her name."

"With her name, her story…" Giulia sighed. "Elijah, what do you want to ask me?"

"This…photograph…it was taken this year?" he asked, turning the screen to face Giulia. She frowned at the photograph, looking annoyed.

"I thought I changed my settings," she sighed.

"You did; it appears some of your friends don't share your desire for privacy," Elijah said.

"Yeah, the photo was taken this year – it was at one of the football-games at school," Giulia said. They were all wearing their crimson and silver uniforms, thankful the coaches had ditched the outdated halter-tops and pleated skirts for sharp, sleeveless vest-tees and sleek skirts, warm Under Armour and fitted tracksuits that washed really well, their names embroidered on the left breast. It was the one attempt Elena had made to re-adjust back to her social and academic responsibilities at school. She remembered Caroline being annoyed that once again Elena's ponytail lacked "zzh", and that Giulia's eyeliner was so perfect. Coach had told Elena off for wearing jewellery when she was supposed to tumble. Giulia had to say, she looked bored and rather insolent in the photo, but she was almost cuddling with Caroline. Crop the other two out and she would have that photo framed.

"And…your friend…Elena…" Elijah said haltingly, and he looked…almost fearful, as he gazed expectantly at her. Giulia's heart sank, and she sighed. She had been afraid of this; that someone would discover Elena, see the connection unmistakable between her and Katherine Pierce. And Elijah had discovered her, no less. After going through the coded diary again shortly before coming here, Giulia had every right to feel anxious, and yet from what she had deciphered there was only so much Elijah could do. Without key ingredients, as it were.

"She's not Katherine," she said calmly, and Elijah looked like she had caught him out, had skipped something. He had not expected her response. His lips parted.

"You…you know the two resemble each other."

"When you have two great-uncles who became obsessed with a girl one hundred and fifty years ago who looks exactly like one of your friends, all except the hairstyle, they tend to ask questions," Giulia said heavily. She sighed, and shrugged. "You get to ask questions in turn. But even Stefan and Damon don't know what a doppelganger's purpose is."

"And you do?"

"I read." She had deciphered enough to prepare her for this conversation. When Katerina had fled she had stolen a moonstone used five centuries earlier in a blood-ritual. It sealed a curse that had been warped by time and rumours to resemble something so appealing, two separate races would eternally be at war seeking the appropriate artefacts. Without the moonstone, Elena herself was useless. No news there, but Giulia meant mystically; her blood meant nothing without the moonstone to spill it over.

Again, Elijah looked as if she had skipped a step. He hadn't expected her to know, hadn't prepared for that. If she hadn't known, he could brush off his queries; but she did, and he had asked. That put them both in a precarious situation.

"Then you know her part in an ages-old curse," Elijah said, sounding almost sad. Giulia nodded. "Does she know?" Giulia shook her head.

"Elena only knows that she was adopted. She's been researching her birth-parents for a connection," Giulia said. "That connection will lead her back to Katerina Petrova, but I don't think Stefan or Damon would know where to start looking for answers about why they look like identical twins, born five-centuries apart."

"Nature's way of keeping the balance," Elijah sighed. He looked suddenly very tired, and he ran his hand over his face. His dark eyes flickered over Giulia's face and he shook his head. "I am sorry to have brought this up to you, it was…not why I invited you here."

"It is, at least one of the reasons," Giulia said sharply. A flicker of hurt was burning in her chest; Elijah had invited her here to talk about Elena. She had worried that might be the case, but that was her overactive mind fearing the worst, making assumptions she couldn't ground with fact. She sighed, and settled beside Elijah where he leaned against one of his worktops. After playing out in the snow had invigorated her, Giulia felt suddenly tired again. She stood close enough to Elijah their arms were touching; coffee had given him warmth but Giulia knew she must be like a furnace standing beside him. And the cold-blooded always sought out warmth.

Without looking at him, she turned and said quietly, "Without the moonstone, she's safe. No-one need ever come to Mystic Falls to try and lift any curse."

"When word reaches Klaus there is a live doppelganger, he will stop at nothing to acquire the moonstone," Elijah promised.

"It was lost."

"With Katerina. Who is still alive. She lived confidently for nearly two centuries while everyone thought her dead. Now that it is known she did not burn alive, her many enemies will search the world over for a chance at revenge," Elijah said calmly. It was the kind of voice that simply accepted plain fact, no embellishment. It was going to happen. "And when word reaches Klaus that Katerina has been found…he will not stop until she – and the moonstone she stole – are in his possession."

Giulia sighed. She had never met this Klaus she had heard mentioned – he sounded like a world-class bully and someone who needed a sharp slap of reality to the face. But if even Elijah, one of the oldest vampires in the world, grew weary at the thought of the lengths he would go to, to get his way, Giulia was no fool. She knew this was devastatingly thin ice she was potentially treading on. She stroked Firenze gently.

"So what do we do?" she asked.

"There is little to be done. Until someone makes a move against either Katerina or seeks her out in Mystic Falls and the doppelganger is revealed…there is little we can do but wait," Elijah said gently. Not unless Giulia felt like sending Elena into witness protection was left unsaid, but she supposed Elijah had considered it an option. She had. That would free her up of her two greatest bothers – the idea of not having to deal with Stelena was wonderfully freeing.

"A stalemate," Giulia said softly. Only until something horrific happened could they do anything: there was nothing pre-emptive Giulia could do to alter the situation without depriving Elena of her consent, her free will.

Giulia sighed. She was so tired, almost sad at the entire situation; but she wasn't angry at Elijah for asking. She had been connecting the bits and pieces of information she had gathered so far, aided by passages she had deciphered from Veronica Salvatore's diary, the details she had picked up here in this very house, talking to Elijah, things she had overheard, details slipped unconsciously into conversations, there was a link between the moonstone and blood-ritual and Elijah having lost his family. Cara had once mentioned there were only two Originals 'awake'; she had heard names dropped, Isak, Gyda, couldn't help think there was a connection between Elijah, his lost siblings and this Klaus bully. His surviving brother, and a vampire menace of Voldemortian proportions: less terrifying in reputation than in person.

She hoped.

"So now you know that I know," she said quietly. "And you know what I do… So what do we do now?"

"All that can be done is to keep an eye out," Elijah said, glancing at her. He didn't break eye-contact, and Giulia didn't move away. "They will come for her. Regardless of my efforts, they will try. The only Original more powerful than myself is Klaus. There is no one more enigmatic, less capable of mercy or forgiveness. Those who seek his favour have attempted to track down the moonstone, a living doppelganger, for centuries…" Trevor had been one such young vampire, had introduced their family to the young Bulgarian noblewoman…had sought Klaus' favours and yet, had been captivated, lured under the doppelganger's spell as so many had before him. Ultimately leading to not only Katerina's betrayal of Elijah and his brother but ultimately of Trevor as well; he and an old favourite of Elijah's, Rosemarie, had run with him. Fierce and forever loyal…great-hearted. They lingered in a half-life, still running, nowadays they travelled the southern states of America, always looking over their shoulders. The fear of death was a far greater punishment than fear itself, and wasted less of Elijah's time than hunting them down.

Although he had to say that if one wanted to retain anonymity, one might steer clear of all social-media, especially when photographs could be traced, time-stamped and a location found for where they had been taken! Alexia was friends with Rose on Facebook! She had once told Elijah she admired Rose's loyalty to Trevor. And Elijah honoured it.

He sighed heavily, though. "I did not wish to have to ask you."

"If you're worried you'd upset me, make me angry by asking…" She sighed and glanced at Elijah. "After what she put Damon through, I'd have no qualms tipping you off to Katherine's whereabouts."

"And your friend? How do you feel about your friend's part in the blood-ritual?"

Giulia cast him a sidelong look, almost annoyed. "We're on the outs, whether she knows it or not, but that doesn't mean I'd want everyone's lives disrupted when someone attempts to hurt Elena – and they will be." She sighed heavily, shaking her head. "Most people attached to her are annoying conscientious busybodies. Everyone but Elena will be hurt, whoever tries to touch her." She winced. "That sounded bitter, didn't it."

"With her unknowing role in your father's murder, I'd say your reaction is absurdly well-adjusted," Elijah said quietly, looking down at his hands, his arms folded over his chest. Warmth emanated from Giulia's body, their arms so close they almost touched. She said she had no qualms about informing on Katerina – and yet this Elena girl was Giulia's friend; and she said it so succinctly. To make a move against this Elena girl was to disrupt far too many lives. Without Katerina and the moonstone there was no point in uprooting anyone's life.

Niklaus would never see it that way. If word had reached him of the doppelganger, he would turn the world over in search of the moonstone. He had no thoughts for anyone but himself.

"I'm sorry your uncles aren't showing you the care you deserve," he said quietly. Families could be the greatest treasure in the world…and the most destructive force unleashed by nature. If not for their mother, for Niklaus…Elijah's family would be exceptional.

"It's okay. All these festivities have reminded me it's New Year. I need to make some resolutions… If they don't work, I get out Damon and Stefan's baby-pictures. Even Lexi doesn't have that emotional leverage," Giulia said, and Elijah's lips twitched. Then he sighed, just the simple word 'pictures' triggering memories of Gyda's abiding lust for photography. She had a collection of antique cameras, acquired throughout the evolution of the art-form. She had taken tens of thousands of photographs before her daggering, and yet of all of them, only one featured the surviving members of their family together – Elijah, Rebekah, NIklaus and Gyda. No Willem, no Isak, no Lagertha. No Kol. No Finn, but no-one missed him. Over nine-hundred years he had remained inside a box. Sadly, he was far more tolerable that way.

He sighed, glancing at Giulia. No makeup, her cheeks naturally warmed from play, those staggering cheekbones and luxurious eyelashes framing mercurial eyes, she was strikingly beautiful. Tired, young – younger than she even knew – but fierce and loyal. He had been worried his inquests into Elena Gilbert might ruffle her feathers, put up her guard, make an enemy of her. That beauty had thrown him off, he admitted he had underestimated her simply because of it.

Never again. He reached a hand up, gently cradling her cheek in a completely unconscious display of tenderness, he tapped his thumb ever so lightly against her cheekbone, sighed, and wandered away.

Ashlyn appeared in the door as he approached it, beaming. "Are you ready to prep for your Bake Off audition?"

"As I'll ever be. Have we willing volunteers to taste-test?"

"As willing as Kreacher at the lake of Inferi," a voice said, and Cara shimmied and danced her way over, wearing low-cut skinny-jeans and the fluffiest mittens she had ever seen. Ashlyn shot her the finger – Elijah took hold of her hand, threatening to break her fingers if Ashlyn ever did it again. So she stuck her tongue out, and he sighed impatiently and wandered away. "Chocolat's threatening to do a dry-run of hair and makeup for the solstice. Like, really, my face hasn't changed in five centuries. Is that necessary?"

"You know he likes to play dress-up," Elijah said. Sometimes being friends with Chocolat and Cara was like playing the intermediary between two three-year-olds having a fight over Strawberry Shortcake dolls and My Little Ponies. Chocolat always got the tiara. "Just indulge him; he puts up with your whims and moods."

"My –"

"Yes, your whims," Eiljah said sternly. Cara pouted.

"You're…unusually stern, even for you, my introverted god of sculpted Viking yumness," Cara said, her eyes narrowing. She glanced at Giulia, then stared back at Elijah, her eyes widening. "You didn't get a leg over?"

Elijah exhaled slowly, his eyes closing. Only five centuries old, only five centuries old, he reminded himself.

"Well, come on, Ashlyn was in the shower for what, fifteen minutes? That's plenty of t –"

"Someone please slap her."

"Try counting to ten," Giulia murmured to Elijah, her lips twitching, eyes alight with mischief. He gave her a second glance, struggling with his smirk; he was very glad he altered the passcode into his phone every few days, so no-one could access his texting history with Giulia. They were sometimes a lot more suggestive with each other than Cara would ever suspect.

"Ten thousand would not help," Elijah said, smiling. Cara gave him a mulish look.

"Are you coming to help the culinary process along or are you going to mope in your studio?" she sniffed. Elijah rolled his eyes. He glanced at Giulia, giving her a sly smile, and said the one thing that would really get under Cara's skin, and encourage her to leave him in peace for a little while.

"You go. Cooking is women's work."


A.N.: The plot thickens. Please review.