Part I ∞ V Facades

Love is a vampire's greatest weakness. And we are not weak, Elijah. We do not feel and we do not care.

As Niklaus' voice fades from memory, not for the first time, Elijah wonders if there is some truth to the code his brother has lived by all his life. Even more so, when he steps into the parlour and he's met with Katerina lounging lazily on a loveseat, her unruly tousled curls falling gracefully over her décolleté.

His very undead heart tugs when she gazes up at him over her book playfully.

"Good morning, my Lord Elijah." She smiles coyly. "Did you rest well?" Elijah doesn't miss the sultry edge to her voice or the way her eyes run over his suited form with interest.

"The usual," he replies impassively and quirks a brow when she waves a pristine envelope in the air tauntingly. "What is that?"

"Intel."

"Intel on?"

She grins slowly and widely, tracing an edge of the envelope carefully, drawing his attention to her lithe dainty fingers. "Something that might be of interest to you."

Not entirely in the mood to play along, especially not after the abysmal dead-end of another potential lead to his siblings, he presses his lips into a thin line and shifts his jaw. The playful smirk widening on Katerina's lips draws out his impatience and Elijah reacts accordingly.

Without waiting, he makes a move to take the letter, flashing over to the floral-embroidered loveseat, only to encounter air as Katerina has sped away, laughing as she observes him from the opposite end of the room.

"Are you chasing me?" she asks, brown eyes alight with amusement.

"I would not have to if you did not resort to playing games," he answers flatly.

"Mm, I can actually see the dark cloud hanging over your head."

"Katerina," he presses warningly.

"Oh alright." She sashays over to him and slides the cream-coloured letter into his waiting palm. "Here," she points at a line in a paragraph, "there is someone out there who has a bone to pick with Klaus. My sources say he is a vampire hunter."

Elijah doesn't respond, not when the warm weight of her is pressed against him and the floral scent of her hair reaches his senses. More than anything, he wants to bury his face into her thick dark curls and breathe. For all of his stubbornness and surly refusal to go along with her games, he is hit with self-loathing at how easily her presence has brought him to his knees.

Weakness indeed.

Niklaus would certainly be bent over from laughter. Right before he shoves a silver dagger into his heart.

He hums noncommittally, savouring the way Katerina loops her hand around his bicep as she points out the efficiency of her agents and their credibility of the information they have gathered.

The act is borne of familiarity and instinct, showing that to a certain extent, Katerina is comfortable being in his presence. Additionally, the fact that she hasn't yet attempted to run off speaks volumes about the trust she has placed in him.

And for all of her perspective and vocal remarks about trust and his apparent unworthiness of receiving hers, he feels somewhat humbled. The gnarled organ that pumps unceasingly in his chest unfurls a little.

That is not to say he doesn't believe she has safety measures installed should things turn south here in England. He wouldn't be surprised either if she was spying on him too. Nonetheless, he shall take what he can get from whatever she's offering—especially after their shared past.

"What do you think?"

Elijah shrugs, not moving an inch lest Katerina takes that as a hint to uncurl away from him. "A vampire hunter would be no match for Niklaus. You forget that my brother is an Original who is close to eight hundred years old," he points out.

"Ah-ah," she shakes her head and he watches, entranced as a brown ringlet escapes her braided coiffure and lies against the enticing curve of her neck. "This one is different."

"How so?"

"This hunter is a vampire too."

His heart stops. "I beg your pardon?"

"He is a vampire who hunts vampires."

"No, absolutely not."

She blinks, her lips parting and he can see the notes of suspicion and wariness in those brown irises at the forceful tone he's adopted. "You have heard of him," she observes, cocking her head. "What do you know?"

Elijah runs his tongue over the front of his teeth, debating on the wisdom of educating Katerina on Mikael and his absolute hatred of Niklaus, as well as the emotional and physical abuse inflicted on them when they led human lives. Knowing Mikael and his single-minded thirst for vengeance on his bastard son, Elijah is certain that that would put the rest of his siblings in jeopardy.

And no matter his personal vendetta against Niklaus, he refuses to let that happen.

"It is complicated," he finally answers.

Katerina rolls her eyes, letting go of his arm. "According to you, everything is complicated."

That wrests a small bubble of laughter from his throat.

"Are you sure we cannot use this vampire hunter at all?"

He nods and turns to her, gravely serious. "Yes. He cannot be trusted." Against his better judgement, he cups her face, thumbs curving against her cheekbones, exposing a sliver of his heart. "Promise me you would not reach out to him. This hunter is exceedingly dangerous. It would not be wise to attract his attention."

Her brows furrow and she lays her hand against the back of his palm. "Are you afraid of him?"

Elijah pauses. "Personally, no. But from what I know, he is ruthless in his quest against Niklaus, heedless of the carnage caused or the other lives he would take in the process. Promise me that you would not seek him out."

"Fine."

"Give me your word, Katerina. Please."

She pouts, her lashes flickering faintly and Elijah can feel his shoulders slackening when she nods grudgingly, though he doesn't miss the calculative glint in her gaze. "Yes, you have it." A dirty look is thrown in his direction. "But now, I am afraid I have to collect a boon."

He arches a brow. "A boon? I was not aware we were bargaining."

"Mmhmm," she purrs and tugs at his hands by wrapping her fingers around his wrists. He represses a shudder at her touch. "I now owe too many favours for gathering that bit of information. Information that I cannot put to use. So, compensation for my troubles from you would be more than welcome."

Fighting for restraint not to smile at the demanding look she's levelled at him, Elijah pulls away. "What is it that you wish for?"

Katerina smiles and he inhales sharply when she casually adjusts his necktie that must have gone askew without his knowledge. The tips of her fingers brush against the skin above his collar and heat flares within his blood.

"Go for a ride with me," she says, peering up at him from under her lashes in a coquettish fashion. "At Hyde Park. Today."

He clears his throat, meeting her gaze. "Was I not made aware of your disdain of getting your hands dirty?"

"I believe I can make an exception if you are to join me."

A horse ride in exchange for her silence on a vampire hunter that could potentially kill his brother? Elijah has never been one to turn down such a ridiculously one-sided offer.

"Deal."

• ∞ • ∞ •

As he guides the Thoroughbred under his care, Elijah starts to doubt if he really did get the better end of that deal. He should have known that Katerina's request was more than it seemed and that making an appearance at Hyde Park included being gawked at and observed by the other patrons.

In short, the whole thing is nothing more than for the elite to display their superiority and wealth with the primary goal to be seen by the masses.

And as someone who prizes solitude, this spectacle doesn't interest him one bit. With the added knowledge of his reclusive and mysterious reputation, Elijah acutely feels the stares boring on his person, be it curious or enviable ones. More so, he has always been reasonably self-aware about his countenance and the looks he was born with. In many ways, he is certain that his appearance is far from unpleasant or disagreeable.

Nonetheless, he can't quite summon the agreeable pleasant facade that is required of him.

Not when the mere mention of Mikael evokes the familiar profound sense of guilt for failing to protect his siblings or sheltering them when they were younger.

He sighs, brows furrowing when he tightens his hold on the reigns, tugging gently as his horse begins straying away from the road.

"You should smile more," Katerina speaks up from his side with a teasing grin. "You will scare even the pigeons with that frown."

He ignores her playful tone and throws a scathing remark her way. "Is there actually a point to this exercise? Or is this leisurely activity meant to further incite my aggravation?"

Being under scrutiny from humans has him even more on edge. Hence, his inability to disguise his annoyance and mood with his usual polite veneer. Something that Katerina recognises as she stops and narrows her eyes.

"I was bored. Forgive me if I simply wanted company." With a haughty scowl on her face and a sharp kick of her heels, she canters off, leaving him watching her retreating form with a dark glower.

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Elijah wonders (not for the first time) at the choices he'd made that led him to this path he's on.

Damaging Niklaus' tenuous hold on his kingdom in return for Celeste's death, failing to curb said brother's killing sprees and their subsequent ramifications, crossing the Atlantic with the woman he's hunted since 1492, while simultaneously abandoning his siblings are some of the questionable decisions he'd made. Not to mention, breaking the vow he'd sworn his entire life to keep—the vow of staying by family, of always and forever.

And now, with him so easily breaking his word to his own flesh and blood, of a promise he'd kept to since his family's bloody rebirth, Elijah cannot help but contemplate the man he has now grown to be. What does forsaking his most revered vow make him? Ignoble? An oathbreaker?

Is he allowing his principles to be compromised so that he is free to play house with the woman he shares such a bloody twisted history with? The same woman who is hunted by his brother for three hundred and seventy-two years, who has danced a fiery trail of destruction over the centuries, while narrowly avoiding capture at his hands. The same woman who still manages to have such a relentless hold on his heart.

If he is truthful, Elijah hasn't stopped wondering what life would've been like had he tried to fight harder for Katerina's life. Had he argued more, took a stand against Niklaus, would things be vastly different from the life he leads now?

He doesn't know.

But ironically, the conflict with Niklaus in New Orleans has given him the push to seek Katerina out.

With his brother deciding that playing King took precedence over his siblings—starting with the ruination of every shred of happiness he and Rebekah could have in his obsessive need to be in control, of treating Kol like a toy, pulling him out of his coffin for entertainment and daggering him back when the fun ends, of doing nothing to get rid of Mikael so that all of them (including Finn) could be reunited—Elijah had taken some time to reevaluate his priorities (and perhaps his loyalties).

In the end, he was left reflecting upon the solemn vow he had always held in such high regard during his immortal life. And truly, what exactly was the point in Always and Forever when it clearly meant nothing to his brother?

Was his life-long goal of searching for Niklaus' redemption and being the ever-patient and understanding intermediary that held his family together all for nothing?

And as usual, such doubts and misgivings of his loyalties eventually led to thoughts of Katerina, of the human girl he'd fallen in love with in 1492. Of the girl he had ultimately forsaken for the sake of his brother—for family.

For the first time in years, he allows himself to indulge in his impulsive streak. In one moment, he's in New Orleans, struggling with his inner demons and the next, he's reaching out for his sources and heading towards a small town in Virginia where Katherine Pierce has last been sighted.

He hadn't been sure what to expect when he encountered Katerina again.

Whatever it was, it was not to find her declaring her love to a dying human boy on the road.

Elijah remembers being distinctively unimpressed at that discovery.

If that wasn't enough, it was the realisation that vampirism had changed her. His gentle, compassionate Katerina is gone, replaced by a harder, crueller and self-serving Katherine. Elijah had heard of the lies and betrayal that tainted Katherine Pierce's reputation and to see it firsthand, possessing the body of the girl who still lives in such a prominent spot in his heart, he'd almost faltered in this absurd plan of his.

But Elijah figured he owed it to himself and to Katerina to find the human girl she'd been beneath her sultry smiles and cunning eyes and to bring her back. And as the months pass, with having only each other for company, Elijah can see hints of his Katerina below the surface and the relief almost drowns him.

He can remember her as though it is 1492. Innocent and guileless, Katerina had enchanted him with her naivety and compassion and human yearnings of love. Doe-eyed and full of hunger for all that humanity offered, he'd been struck by her and how different she had been as compared to Tatia, the woman who first shared her face and toyed with his and Niklaus' hearts. Katerina's human qualities had reached out to some part of him that had been silenced ever since Mikael struck him in the heart with his sword.

And while Niklaus was away, chasing his interests of breaking his curse and shedding the blood of innocents whenever he saw fit, Elijah had hesitantly kept Katerina company. Against his better judgement, considering the tragic turn her fate would take in the next few months, he'd reached out too, and in those brief moments when they were alone, he'd fancied himself human, wiling away his days with an ordinary life that comprised a wife and a handful of children—simple trivial things that mattered to humans.

Of course, everything had been nothing but a fanciful daydream and the day Katerina had run, he'd come crashing down from the sky, like Icarus who'd flown too close to the sun.

And here he is centuries later, all alone with the same woman, only to find that she's changed. However, the startling revelation that the smouldering attraction he also feels for this new version of Katerina brings him to his knees.

He should not be finding amusement in her sly, coquettish smiles that promise chaos. He should not be feeling fond of her manipulative tendency for games and playful teasing. He should not be impressed with how resourceful and cunning she can be when her mind is put to the task. He should not regard her methods of staying alive admirable, not after the carnage and destruction she leaves in her wake.

Nor should he be tempted by her seductive wiles.

And yet, he is.

He is enchanted and charmed by Katherine Pierce as he was by Katerina Petrova.

More than once, he has almost given in to her flirtatious invitations that consist of lowered eyes and batting lashes, of barely innocent lingering touches, of innuendos that drip of sensuality and are always accompanied with a wicked smirk. Only the pagan Norse gods that he recognises are fully aware of how much he wants— desires —to take her to bed. His bed.

He aches to touch her, to taste her, to allow his fingers and tongue to glide over her olive skin, to feel her softer curves pressed against the muscled planes of his body, with absolutely nothing—not even air—separating them. He wants to know the sounds she makes when he kisses her or when she's in the throes of pleasure, or how she'll gasp and writhe against him when he teases her with orgasm after orgasm. He craves to have the knowledge of how she will look like when she falls apart with his name on her bitten lips when he drives hard into her wet heat, dragging her over the edge with him again and again.

It is only the strength that the Allfather gives that aids him in maintaining his self-control. Because Elijah cannot allow himself to give in to Katerina. Not when seduction could be a tool she wields to gain control of him, to bend him to her will. Furthermore, any sexual relations between them is a risk to their newly-found truce which are built upon years of mistrust and betrayal. More importantly, in order to protect himself, Elijah refuses to give in when he doesn't even know what his true feelings are towards her.

No. He grimaces, his mouth twisting tautly as his brows furrow harshly. Perhaps he is simply deluding himself.

Because Elijah knows that deep down in his bones, and in the muscle tissues of his heart, what he feels for Katherine Pierce isn't as complex as he makes it out to be.

What does it say about him that he holds such affection and great feeling for a woman like Katherine Pierce?

"If you are done brooding and wallowing in your daily moral quandaries, I will be taking my leave. It turns out the company I sought out does not suit me or my needs today."

He looks up to see Katerina approaching, a heavy scowl on her delicate features. Her lips are pursed and she refuses to look at him straight in the eye and the reproach he feels for himself resembles acid churning in his gut.

"I apologise, Katerina. I fear I have not been in the greatest of moods as of late," he offers. "It was not fair or kind of me to have taken it out on you."

"No, it was not." She sniffs and gives a petulant glower his way.

Elijah finds the corner of his mouth tilting up. "If you would allow me, I was told there was an excellent dining establishment not far from our location."

"Is this an attempt at compensating for your dour mood?"

"Yes."

She contemplates his olive branch and Elijah is given the opportunity to study her.

Dressed in a dark green riding habit that accentuates her tiny waist while setting off her complexion, which is also accessorised with a matching velvet hat and dark leather gloves, his gaze slowly takes in the confident manner she holds herself in. To him, Katerina looks every inch an excellent horsewoman, one who appears to have ridden extensively. He doesn't think that Rebekah can match Katerina's aptitude for riding and his sister has always strived to be the best.

"You ride well," he compliments, loosening his grip on the reins. "Even in a sidesaddle."

Katerina shrugs, a loose tendril of her hair brushing against her cheek as she preens. "Well, if you do recall, I was the daughter of a horse merchant," she replies archly, adeptly steering her mare single-handedly to come to a stop at his side. "I knew how to ride a horse before I could walk."

"I can easily believe that."

The pointed look she gives him causes a smirk to form on his face. "Contrary to popular belief, flattery will not get you everywhere."

"Is it considered flattery when I meant every word?" he quips.

Katerina raises her brows, her eyes gleaming with something Elijah recognises as mischief. "If all you wanted was to play…" she trails off slowly and shrugs, "you simply had to ask." A wicked smile is tossed over her shoulder as she begins to urge her mare to increase its pace. "I will accept your apology only if you can catch me!"

With that, she takes off and Elijah is left marvelling at the wide carefree grin on her face as she races away, her dark curls tumbling free from their stiff updo. His lips part and beneath his ribcage, the grip Katerina has around his heart tightens. Unable to turn down a challenge, (least of all a challenge proposed so blatantly) he too encourages his steed with a gentle nudge to its side to catch up with his wayward companion.

Keeping to the eccentric reputation that he and Katerina have earned from their peers, Elijah abandons his habitual stoic nature and races after her. And as they ride along the path, ignoring the scandalised gasps and stares from their apparently uncivilised behaviour of racing through Hyde Park, Elijah knows he is smiling as Katerina laughs joyously ahead of him.

And even though his Thoroughbred was bred for the sole purpose of racing due to its agility and speed, Elijah ensures that they maintain a steady distance from Katerina's mare in an effort not to spoil their fun.

But of course, his companion has always marched to the beat of her drums.

"Elijah!" she hollers from across a secluded section of the park, her cheeks rosy from exertion. "You have to catch me! That is the point of this exercise!"

"But if I catch you, the game will be over…" Elijah calls out, only to trail off when he immediately recognises the words he had once spoken a lifetime ago.

Unlike the fateful year of 1492, they are not in the castle gardens owned by his family, playing a game of tag under the warm English sunshine with the burgeoning promises of more as they discuss human yearnings of love and kinship. Instead, it is 1864 and here they are, with history repeating itself with what feels like an ocean separating them.

Inwardly, Elijah winces and curses himself for exposing too much of the tattered remains of his soul. But he's never been one to back away. Resolutely, he forces the emotions away, meeting the doppelgänger head-on and gracing her with an impassive expression. He refuses to allow himself to express any further signs of weakness.

As expected, the bright girlish smile fades from her face and Katerina blinks, visibly swallowing. He notes the way she clutches the reins, the thin leather cords wrapped tightly around her fingers as she shifts in her saddle.

And because he's watching her so closely, he doesn't miss the way her lips part and a brief flash of emotion flits across her features, disappearing as quickly as it came.

Elijah stills, and all the air in his lungs whooshes out of his chest in one sharp exhale.

There.

In those few scant seconds of uncertainty and vulnerability, he's caught another glimpse of his Katerina.

"I am hungry," she announces abruptly, breaking the sombre tension settling around them. Lifting her chin, he observes the way Katerina is tucked away under Katherine as she guides her mare towards him. "Where is this dining establishment you mentioned?"

His tongue darts out to wet his lower lip. "Come."

Later when they are seated and served, Elijah studies her quietly. Despite the unease he senses emanating from her person, Katerina feigns ignorance and delves into her meal eagerly as though nothing is amiss. Sipping from his cup of tea, he watches over the rim as she makes a face after biting into a slice of toast slathered with tomato preserves and his lips twitch.

"I saw that," she huffs, putting the toast down and raises a brow. "I still do not understand why tomato preserves are considered an appropriate condiment."

He doesn't answer but smiles agreeably.

As Katerina pushes the bread aside and turns to the delicate tiny cakes and biscuits with vigour, her brown eyes alight with anticipation, something like peace and acceptance falls over his mind. Both the doubts he's harboured for weeks, along with the rising guilt suffocating his lungs vanish. And he relaxes, allowing the tension in his shoulders to recede for the first time all day.

Perhaps, he muses with his soft gaze on Katerina, he is truly where he needs to be.

• ∞ • ∞ •

In hindsight, donning a lilac dress might not be the wisest thing to wear when dealing with blood-thirsty witches who are bound in servitude to Klaus.

Katherine staggers into the hallway, the hem of her blood-soaked dress leaving stains along the floor as she ascends the stairs. Her head is pounding and from the odd angle her elbow is in, she assumes her body is still under the effects of the numerous spells thrown her way.

A maid rounds the hallway and upon catching sight of her, she gasps, eyes rounding and the neatly-pressed garments in her hands drop to the ground. Katherine pauses and takes a glance into one of the many ornate mirrors on the wall and curses quietly. Her dark curls are in a bedraggled mess and while her dress is practically splattered and stained with blood, it doesn't hide the numerous wounds she's suffered from wooden stakes. With how her neck and chin are smeared with the crimson viscous liquid as well, Katherine is aware she looks like a nightmare come to life.

Before the maid begins panicking and shrieking, drawing unwanted attention, Katherine sighs and grips the girl by her shoulders, compelling away her horror and replacing her fright with a docile countenance. Once the human is suitably appeased, Katherine continues on her way, wincing when she can feel a splinter or two stabbing against her lungs.

What she wouldn't give to slaughter the whole lot all over again.

It'd been a regular Wednesday and Katherine had settled into her life like a duck taking to water. She'd stopped at a fellow peer's house for their weekly tea appointments, laughing and gossiping while shielding the finer, more intimate questions of her private life when she'd been alerted by one of the men she'd compelled to do her bidding.

An innocuous-looking letter was pressed into her hand. However, its contents were anything but.

There were talks of a small coven of witches in the east end of London, witches who were supposedly devout in serving Klaus and all that he stood for.

Now, Katherine had always believed in taking a proactive approach to the threats in her life.

And if it meant slaughtering an entire coven, so be it.

She should have informed Elijah, but well, she's never been one to seek another's approval before making decisions. Plus, being the man who constantly preached about the conservation of human life and whatever rot that came with having the honourable mantle he wore like armour, she doubted her plans for the witches would have gone over well.

Hence, she'd made excuses to her friends and headed to the address given just to scout out the potential risk these witches could pose. As anticipated, Katherine was right that the group of eight witches had not been pleased to find a vampire in their territory. But they'd changed their tune upon discovering her identity.

And if she ever had the off-chance to attempt to negotiate with them, that plan has all but flown out of the window with her undead status being revealed.

One bloody massacre, fifteen witchy aneurysms and four stakes later, Katherine is back in her bedroom, digging her fingers into the barely-healed wounds on her torso. She grimaces, leaning heavily over her vanity table while she clenches her teeth against the pain of searching for those elusive splinters when the door bursts open.

"Katerina, have you—what happened?"

She glares into the mirror, spotting Elijah through the glass. "What does it look like?" she hisses and jerks when her fingernail scrapes across her lung. Tears spring into her eyes but upon feeling the sliver of wood, she braces herself and yanks it out with a violent jerk.

"Who did this?"

She shakes her head, panting. "Witches," she spits out, closing her eyes and sags against her dresser.

"They found you?"

Elijah sounds closer and upon opening her eyes, it's to find him in front of her. Strong arms are wrapped around her shoulders and she finds herself being ushered to sit on the small stool.

"No, I sought them out on my own," she says, feeling Elijah's gaze running over her bloody form, cataloguing the damage she'd received. "Heard through the grapevine that they worked for Klaus. And I decided to deal with it immediately."

"You mean to say that you killed these witches based on rumours?"

Her head snaps up and Katherine glares up at him. Despite the state she's in, she doesn't miss the reproach and disapproval in his tone. Elijah takes a step back, his eyes narrowing and she can sense him withdrawing from her.

"Yes," she snaps heatedly. "I'm not taking chances. Not when it comes to my life."

"Why did you not attempt to negotiate? Surely a compromise could have been reached."

Katherine curls her lip. "They served Klaus. What kind of middle ground can we agree on?"

Elijah frowns, brown eyes harsh and his mouth is set into a thin line. "So you slaughtered all of them?"

She rolls her eyes and turns towards the mirror and starts pulling the pins out of her hair. "Yes. All eight of them." Her eyes meet him through the glass. "What about it?"

He makes a sound, something that she recognises as a mix of irritation and disbelief. "Do you truly not feel a single shred of remorse for the lives you took today?"

Katherine growls and slams her hairbrush down. "Why should I?" she demands. "It was either us or them. I chose us."

He scoffs, slipping a hand into the front pocket of his trousers. "Do not try to validate these senseless bouts of murder, Katerina. Or at least, do not delude yourself into thinking you did it for me as well."

She glowers at him, ignoring the ache in her bones and the throbbing in her head and rises to her feet. "I did it for us, Elijah," she repeats firmly through clenched teeth. "They served your brother who is fixed on hunting me and now, you." Katherine cocks her head. "Do you truly think that negotiating with them, giving them counteroffers, or even bribing them will keep us out from Klaus' radar?"

The shifting in his jaw and the unrelenting set of his eyes answers her.

She laughs scornfully and shakes her head. "You're an Original, Elijah, surely you do not think that these witches are not capable of stabbing you in the back."

"Is it not possible to seek the best in people, to believe that they are capable of good?"

Katherine blinks and scoffs. "Good is relative and subjective," she replies snidely and crosses her arms. "And yes. Do you actually think that I'm that same insipid naïve girl you met in 1492?"

Elijah's face clouds.

Despite having gone through a series of witchy-induced brain trauma not a mere hour ago, Katherine feels like the Original has literally plunged his hands into her gut and wrapped his fingers around her heart.

"You do, don't you?" she demands, her chest going unbearably tight.

He exhales slowly. "Is it wrong of me to look for the good in you?"

Somehow, Elijah's admission feels worse.

Fighting back the heavy barrage of retorts on the tip of her tongue and the violent turmoil of emotions lingering in the bottom of her heart, Katherine levels him with a steady look. "I am sorry that I am not the girl you think I was."

"You are, Katerina," he implores, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've seen it. You are capable of humanity, of compassion and mercy—"

" No, " she interjects, furiously shaking her head. She doesn't want to hear anymore, not when she should have known better when it came to this man. "Forget it, Elijah. I have changed. No matter how much you wish for it, I will never again be that sweet innocent Bulgarian peasant you met and fell in love with."

Elijah stops and the vindictive pleasure she feels at the stricken look on his face feeds her anger and her hurt and all the pain and rage she's suppressed for centuries.

"I'm right," she says and laughs hollowly. "You tracked me all the way to Virginia, hoping and wishing to find the girl you remembered I was. And now that I've proven that I have changed, you condemn me for the things I did to survive."

"That is not—"

"Save it!" Katherine snarls, her eyes flashing. "You cannot blame me for the person I am. Not when everything I have done, everything you find morally reprehensible about me, I did it because I was on the run from you and Klaus!"

"I—"

She doesn't allow him to get a word in. She doesn't want to hear his pathetic excuses or reasons. "I never asked to be part of your brother's sacrificial ritual. Nor did I ask to be born with the curse of having this face! You," she pauses, glaring at him through glassy eyes, "do not get to berate me when it is you and your brother who had a huge hand in moulding me into what I am today."

Elijah is no longer looking at her.

His gaze is fixed on the ground and she can see him fidgeting and toying with the cuffs of his sleeves.

Katherine exhales shakily and curls her hands into delicate fists at her side. The fire that burns so brightly and furiously in her spirit has all but mellowed and she's left defeated and emotionally wrung out. At this point, all she wants is to get cleaned up and curl up in bed.

"I just wanted to live," she whispers quietly. "Is that wrong?"

At that, Elijah looks up, his eyes are wounded and his mouth is twisted into a line of remorse. From the way his jaw works, she can tell he would be attempting to reach out to her, to smooth out their altercation.

She turns away, giving him her back. "I wish to retire."

"Katerina, I—"

"Get out."

Katherine waits for the receding sound of his footsteps and the subsequent closing of her door before she closes her eyes and sinks to the ground into a heap of limbs and blood-stained silk. Fervently, she wishes she'd never left Bulgaria all those years ago.