A.N.: So, I know you've noticed the title has changed. Resurgam means 'I shall rise again' and I thought it was fitting; I also just didn't like 'Machiavelli's Daughter' anymore! Resurgam fits the story better, for so many reasons!
Resurgam
(Formerly 'Machiavelli's Daughter')
13
Reciprocity
It had been a bit of a crappy week, at least the beginning. Yesterday, she had woken to find messages about the sale of a house falling through; and she had been enjoying demo-day until they found asbestos at the first of two sites they were demolishing; and she had forgotten to put sunscreen on her ears, which were now burning like beacons. She always forgot her ears.
This morning was calmer: She had turned her phone on silent and appreciated a half-hour of downtime in which nothing further could possibly go wrong, pushing a cart around Target, Zita chirping away happily, kicking her legs, sipping water when Giulia offered her the bottle. They were both grubby and a little achy, and grinning; Mommy-and-Me yoga always left them both bright-eyed and content.
"Now, you remember what we're looking for?" Giulia asked, and Zita nodded, beaming. Her little cheeks were flushed, her dark hair in curly little pigtails, and her eyes were twinkling in that dangerous borderline way; she'd crash soon, just as Giulia would.
"Bananagrams!" she cooed, and Giulia nodded, carefully scanning each shelf in the Games aisle. Zita's little bracelet still glinted on Giulia's wrist: She couldn't bear to take it off.
"Alright, let me know if you see anything yellow," Giulia told her daughter: Yellow was Zita's favourite colour. They trawled along the aisle, frowning at the displays. It struck Giulia, most often when they were near toy or games aisles, how disinterested Zita was in acquiring stuff, in getting new toys. Zita struggled with jigsaw-puzzles - not like Giulia, who had framed and returned the all-white thousand-piece jigsaw the Saltzmans had laughingly gifted her on her last birthday. Zita, a four-year-old musical prodigy, couldn't wrap her head around jigsaws. Giulia adored puzzles; it frustrated Zita to no end that she didn't understand them.
"I see it, I see it!" Zita cooed, grinning, writhing in her seat in the cart, pointing a tiny finger. Giulia wheeled them over to the display.
"Good job," Giulia smiled warmly at Zita. "Kiss." She puckered her lips and stole a kiss from her little girl, reaching up to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear. "You're warm, kid. Drink some more water, please." She offered her the bottle, testing Zita's temperature with her hand on her forehead. "Maybe I should tuck you in with Ben and Jerry?"
"I like Cherry Garcia," Zita grinned, and Giulia chuckled, turning to the shelf. There were yellow and green bananas - the traditional 'adult' family version, and the green My First Bananagrams version for pre-readers and beginners aged 4+. Giulia frowned, and read the labels for both, curious which would be more suitable for Zita. She remembered Spencer's struggles with spelling and vocab, and glanced back at the family game.
"I suppose bananas do come in bunches," she told Zita, shrugging, and added both to her cart. "Water, baby. Finish the bottle, please." Heaving a sigh, Zita upturned the bottle, her eyelashes fluttering as she gazed at the ceiling. She gasped and wiped her mouth on her arm, handing the bottle back with a pearly smile. "Thank you… Did we need anything else?"
"Bathing-suits!" Zita said, gazing earnestly at her. "You said I'm too big."
"Oh, that's right. You just keep growing," Giulia sighed, clasping her daughter's little face in her hands and stealing another kiss. "Stop it… You are warm, sweets." Zita yawned widely, blinking slowly, always a warning-sign. Giulia had ignored it in the past: Never again. "Alright, we'll take a look at the bathing-suits and then head home."
The kids' section was full of summer clothing, bathing-suits galore - the majority of which were inappropriate baby-bikinis, and Giulia was not going to put her daughter in one of those.
"Oh, I think we have a winner here!" Giulia gasped, beaming at Zita as she tugged a bathing-suits off the rack - black and white horizontally-striped with coral shoulder-straps, decorated with a large pineapple decal on the front, with colour-coordinated coral eyelet shorts as a cover-up. Zita's tired eyes lit up at the sight of the pineapple; they were her favourite.
"I like it!" Zita grinned; Giulia added a second to the cart, black with large white polka-dots, and pink trim. Giulia had been struck with nostalgia and a little regret, realising Zita had outgrown her first swimsuit, which had been red with little white polka-dots and frills over the thighs: She had looked so scrumptious in it, with her little baby fat-rolls. Zita had been a pretty baby; she was a beautiful little girl. Just as long as Zita remained entranced with music, Giulia didn't think she'd have too many problems when Zita became a stunning teenager.
She scanned the racks, and picked out a couple of new dresses for Zita. It was summer: Giulia only ever tugged a dress over her curly head, slathered sunscreen on her, made sure Zita had a hat and a full bottle of water, and let her do her thing. Giulia was wheeling the cart around when she saw a shimmer of blonde hair, and thought, for a heartbeat, that it was Caroline.
It wasn't.
Rebekah stood amongst the adult bikinis, muttering to herself and pulling a face as if she found the concept of a triangle bikini-top absurd: Daggered in the early 1920s when the hemlines had only just started flirting with the knees, Giulia wouldn't be surprised if Rebekah was struggling with the modern standard of 'modesty'.
"Hello, Rebekah," she said, pausing beside her, and the thousand-year-old girl started, glancing over her shoulder. She wore no makeup, and her natural freckles showed prettily, a constellation across her nose. Her pale-taupe eyebrows drew together over blue eyes that flicked over Giulia, bemused.
Rebekah truly was very beautiful. Her looks were more refined, more elegant than Lagertha's fiercely beautiful intensity. There was something…very timeless in Rebekah's features, which were almost perfectly symmetrical. One hundred years ago, five centuries, Rebekah must have been considered extraordinarily beautiful: Now, Rebekah was stunning. She had flashing sapphire-blue eyes like Lagertha's, but Rebekah had a delicate rosebud mouth with a plump lower-lip, and fine eyelashes that darkened her eyes when she lowered them: Her hair was naturally sun-bleached, almost white-blonde, shimmering pale-champagne.
The look of derision melted away as Rebekah seemed to recognise her. "Oh," she sighed, with a half-smile that brought to mind every Mean Girl Giulia had ever met. "Of course. Yes, you're the one who danced that exquisite Charleston. Some relative of Stefan's, aren't you? A cousin?"
"It's the easiest designation," Giulia said, nodding. "Is Stefan with you?"
"I couldn't threaten him with medieval torture more sadistic than shopping," Rebekah sniffed. "He dropped me off."
"You can't have experienced a more jarring transition than waking up this last time," Giulia said thoughtfully. "Although the post-war years were transitional…"
"One would never have dreamt the Suffragettes' commitment would lead to this," Rebekah said, wrinkling her nose as she brandished a triangle bikini at Giulia. "I can't be expected to wear these as undergarments! Where is the support?"
"That's actually a bathing-suit," Giulia said apologetically. Rebekah bristled as if mortally insulted.
"I have been investigating the dressmakers in this town," Rebekah said grimly. "So far I am underwhelmed."
"I wouldn't like you to judge modern fashion by small-town malls," Giulia said, wincing slightly. "You'd do better to spend a long weekend in Manhattan, spoiling yourself. That's where the ateliers are, if you don't want to go to Paris or London."
"The magazines say fashions change seasonally," Rebekah sighed distractedly. "When we lived in New Orleans it took years for the new styles to arrive from Paris. And then came the War, and four years made fashion unrecognisable. It was marvellous… I adored the clothes. I was no longer constrained."
"If I were you, I wouldn't let go of all of the Twenties," Giulia said, smiling. "There was a lot that was very elegant about the fashion then… Has Stefan introduced you to Downton Abbey?"
"No," Rebekah frowned.
"I think you'd enjoy it - it's a television-show; it starts on the day the RMS Titanic sank in 1912 and follows a fictional aristocratic English family through the Great War into the Twenties," Giulia said. "If you're feeling nostalgic it may help the blow fall by degrees."
"The last time Niklaus daggered me, it was for fifty-two years," Rebekah sighed heavily, her perfect rosebud lips pursing. "I spent the next decade trying to catch up on all I had missed… It had seemed daunting then; I had never been left so long. Now, I…I don't know quite where to start. Stefan tells me there is more information available on his mobile telephone than most people had access to in their entire lives in the Twenties. Only I cannot work the bloody thing. Is it a device of communication or of torture?"
"Both," Giulia chuckled, as Rebekah wielded her flawless new iPhone at her like a weapon, looking irritable. "Hasn't Stefan shown you how to use it?"
"He's grumpy," Rebekah said, sighing lightly. "May I ask why you're wearing that?"
Giulia glanced down: She wore an all-black outfit, a racerback tank over her best sports-bra, long leggings with sheer mesh panels and black Skechers sneakers. Her sun-streaked hair was drawn up into an untidy bun, stuffed under a black baseball cap smeared with dust, her sunglasses propped on the visor; she wore no makeup, and her ears were singed and starting to peel. She healed much quicker than humans.
"Demo-day started this morning, and Zita and I had yoga," Giulia said, glancing at Zita, who sat in the cart, gently dozing, sucking her fingers. As if sensing eyes on her, Zita started with a tiny snort, blinking around owlishly. Giulia smiled fondly, and Rebekah started, blinking at Giulia.
"Yoga? People actually practice yoga nowadays?" Rebekah asked sceptically. "I haven't done yoga in centuries."
"You're more than welcome to join our class, if you're interested," Giulia offered sincerely. As with Rebekah's siblings, Giulia thought the best way to affect the way things unfolded was to extend an offer of friendship, subtly guide the Originals as they learned about this new time. About what was tolerated in this new time: What Giulia would tolerate. Isak had learned first what her boundaries were, and how ruthlessly she would enforce them. "There is a class without children on a Wednesday evening. I can text you the details, if you'd like."
"I would," Rebekah said, after a heartbeat.
"Here, hand me your phone, I'll add my contact details," Giulia said, and Rebekah handed over her brand-new phone with a vague aura of disdain around her delicate little nose, upturned in disdain. "Stefan hasn't set you up at all…"
"Well, apparently he's preoccupied," Rebekah said lightly, raising her chin slightly, as if it didn't bother her that Stefan was obviously distracted - from spending time with her. Giulia smiled. Rebekah's eyes drifted to Zita, who was gazing at her curiously. Giulia watched the frostiness melt from Rebekah as she smiled at Zita with something almost like shyness. "You're a little darling, aren't you? What's your name?"
"Zita," Giulia's daughter answered, giving Giulia a look, silently asking for a little encouragement.
"Zita. That's a very unique name," Rebekah smiled: With her accent, crisp English spoken with a light inflection of French and a Southern drawl, Rebekah pronounced the 't' sharply, the way Giulia liked it. "My name is Rebekah. It's very lovely to meet you, Zita."
"Unless you wanted anything else desperately, if you don't mind waiting for me to pay, I can help you with your phone," Giulia said, and Rebekah's eyes glinted with interest. "And - I have something in my car for you; I was going to drop it off at the house."
"You know where I'm living?" Rebekah asked sharply.
"Stefan told me you're in the modern eyesore overlooking the Falls," Giulia said, sniffing delicately: Being a qualified Architect made her a snob about appalling designs such as the monstrosity in the woods.
"It is vulgar," Rebekah agreed, wrinkling her nose. "I don't know what on earth drew Niklaus there."
"The view," Giulia said thoughtfully. Rebekah pulled a face.
Rebekah adored children, Giulia learned. She engaged with Zita more naturally than with Giulia: She asked Zita to pick which the prettiest bikini was, and Rebekah carried a pure-white asymmetric ruffle bandeau bikini top and brief bottoms to the check-out, with a basket full of cosmetics, toiletries and trinkets Rebekah seemed curious about. While Giulia paid for her and Zita's things, Rebekah kept Zita's attention, asking her questions, like what they had bought, and why, and what Zita carried in her backpack.
She could learn from Zita, Giulia realised, without anyone being condescending to her for not knowing things everyone else would take for granted. A child explained the fundamental things, the important things they remembered. Rebekah learned from Zita. Giulia was mindful when Zita told Rebekah about making the name-bracelets; but Zita was still too delighted that she had found Spencer in the Library to mention Gyda or Elijah, and Giulia allowed the two to bond over the fact they both knew someone called Finn.
Giulia didn't mention that Zita's Finn was in fact Rebekah's brother.
Pushing the cart out to her car, Giulia started the engine and buckled Zita in, the air-conditioning on to cool her down, while Rebekah examined her Audi Q5, asking why Giulia had chosen her automobile, and bemoaning the fact that Stefan didn't have the time to give her a 'refresher' in driving - she murmured that her brother Elijah had encouraged her to learn to drive, but that had been 1915, and automobiles and road laws had altered dramatically since.
Giulia popped the trunk and stowed her things inside, returning the cart: She perched on the edge of the trunk with Rebekah, taking Rebekah's phone and setting her up accounts on social-media, connecting her to Stefan as 'Friends', showing her how to use different Apps and features of her phone.
Klaus had set Rebekah up with access to his credit-cards: Giulia gave Rebekah the tools to abuse them online.
"I think that's your ride," Giulia said, listening out of the corner of her ear, and smiled when a glossy fire-truck-red 1963 Porsche 356B Karmann Coupe purred into view: Giulia had returned the keys to their owner after her dinner with Stefan. His smile had been worth the discomfort of their brush with Elena. With a screech of tires, the Porsche stopped in front of them, the engine growling. The windows were rolled down, music playing, and Stefan's daylight ring flashed in the sunlight as he lifted his hand to wave at Giulia.
"Lovely to meet you," Rebekah said, almost sincerely: She peered into the car, at the tips of Zita's curly pigtails peeking over the headrest. Giulia could hear her humming softly as she listened to music: The one thing Rebekah seemed to adore about this new time was the constant access to music. She could listen to her favourite concertos and operas any time she desired. Giulia had set up Rebekah's phone to download her favourite classical pieces, connecting her with videos of famous operas and ballets - Balanchine's Jewels and Carlos Accosta's Carmen. Before Rebekah could dart off, Giulia reached into the trunk, producing the tote bag she had put together the other night.
"This is for you," Giulia said. "There's a letter inside, it should help explain a few things."
Rebekah looked surprised, and touched, as she accepted the weighty, bulky bag.
"Thank you," she said softly, looking at Giulia for the first time as if truly seeing her. "That's very kind of you."
Giulia shrugged delicately. "If Stefan's still too busy, you're welcome to ask me anything to help you assimilate." Rebekah thanked her again, smiling brightly, and skipped over to the passenger-door, climbing into Stefan's tiny sports-car.
She raised an eyebrow, curious to see Rebekah lean over and steal a kiss from Stefan as he turned to her; they lingered.
Stefan was preoccupied with Klaus, and with Elena, yes; but he still had time for Rebekah.
Whatever they had shared in 1922 Chicago had been returned to Stefan: And he couldn't shed it, whatever it was, as if it had never happened.
Giulia wondered how he was handling trying to reconcile Rebekah…with Elena. She had read his 1922 journal, all the sordid, blood-stained details; even if he hadn't realised it at the time, Giulia had read his diary entries as him reclaiming his humanity…falling in love with Rebekah.
The very first time Stefan had ever, truly, fallen in love with someone.
Katherine had compelled his complaisance and acceptance, if not his desire: Transitioning into a vampire had undone all she had compelled him to forget.
Stefan had been enchanted by Rebekah's oozing sensuality and elegance, her timeless beauty, her stubbornness and the sweetness beneath the steel, the tragic romantic, her charm and fiery temperament: It had taken Rebekah to gentle the Ripper of Monterrey, coaxing Stefan's humanity to return.
Then Klaus had removed every trace of her from Stefan's mind, leaving Stefan utterly bereft of the memories, if not the ache in his chest, the sense of missing something important.
When he had met Elena, Stefan couldn't remember that he had fallen in love once before, truly, completely, agonisingly in love.
Rebekah was his first love: Elena was his first love.
One, he had been compelled to forget: The other had been compelled to accept that he was gone.
Now, he had the memories of one, awoken after a century, her last memory dancing with Stefan at a speakeasy, loving him; and the other had grown up, become a wife and mother in his absence. Both were struggling.
And it was ingrained in Stefan's core nature to try to help, to lessen people's suffering - when he was himself: When he was on human-blood, all bets were off.
Rebekah had pulled Stefan back, a century ago, without ever doing anything but be herself, and be the girl Stefan had fallen in love with, without even realising it.
Someone honked their horn as Stefan tore out of the parking-lot, and Giulia was jarred out of her thoughts, shutting the trunk, and climbed into her car, checking on Zita in the back; she had her eyes closed, but was humming softly to Stravinsky, mesmerised by the 'Rite of Spring'. She turned the key in the ignition and drove for home, frowning into the rear-view mirror; Zita was quiet, which was abnormal when they were in the car. She liked to chatter, or hum along to the radio. Her little face was scrunched up, and there were smudgy shadows under her eyes; she looked exhausted.
Zita was quiet and grumpy as Giulia undid her seatbelt - the fact she let Giulia unbuckle her was proof enough something was funky with her; Giulia knew she had been having fun at day-care earlier, playing outside, maybe a little overheated. She latched her arms around Giulia's neck to be carried, and cuddled up close, clingy - something Zita wasn't, unless she was feeling unwell.
"What's wrong, little girl?" she asked gently, stroking her back, as she carried her daughter to the house. Zita grumbled against her collarbone. "Did you overdue it at day-care? …Let's go inside and get clean, you'll feel better. You can cuddle with Gallant and I'll make us some dinner." She was a tiny little space-heater as Giulia carried her inside, unlocking the front-door, greeted by the dogs, Zeus whining as if he could tell Zita was feeling poorly. With a bite of authority in her voice, Giulia ordered the dogs to their beds, setting Zita down to bring in their shopping.
Her phone rang, and she counted to five before answering, wondering, Oh, what fresh hell is this?
"Enzo? I thought you'd be home," Giulia said. It was one of his days off.
"Carlo had an accident in the kitchen, he needed stitches; Rose called me in to cover. I tried ringing you; your phone went straight to answer-machine," Enzo said. Giulia groaned. "I know you're supposed to pick up Tyler from the airport this afternoon."
"I'll figure it out," Giulia sighed.
"I'm sorry to let you down," Enzo said sincerely.
"You don't," Giulia assured him gently. "They need you at the Boarding House." She ended the call, dialling Caroline's number; she offered to come over and watch Zita while Giulia drove to pick up Tyler. She ended the call, grateful, tucked her phone into her pocket, and sighed, rubbing her face, which felt grimy.
She noticed the scent, the subtle change in the atmosphere, and felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck and her arms rise in awareness; she strode through the house to the deck, built over the lake. A sleek, understated shadow had draped himself against the railing, watching the water shimmering in the sunshine, dark hair combed, wearing Italian-leather boots, dark, expensive, understated jeans, a charcoal t-shirt and a minimalist leather jacket, a hint of gold from his ancient Viking armband at the wrist, a glitter on his middle-finger where a tiny lapis lazuli stone protected him from the sunlight he was basking in, his face upturned to the sun.
Giulia hadn't seen that sight in ten years; he had been here last week, eating dinner with her. She was startled at the suddenly vivid memories bombarding her, their time together - voraciously hungry for each other, and indulgent. Her cheeks flushed, her heart-rate rising.
It felt like a very long time ago, they had lounged on the deck after lazy meals, enjoying the tranquillity of the lake, and each other's company.
"Elijah," she said softly, and there was already a hint of a smile in his eyes when he glanced over his shoulder. Slowly, he approached the door, eyeing the threshold curiously. He clasped a stack of books and DVDs in one hand. Instead of testing whether he could enter, or asking her to invite him inside, Elijah simply draped himself against the doorframe. She smiled gently, suddenly bashful. "I didn't expect you today."
"I…have some things to return which you lent to Lagertha and Gyda," he said softly, and Giulia bit the inside of her cheek, smiling.
"You know, you don't need to make up an excuse to stop by," she said in an undertone, smiling bashfully, and Elijah shrugged elegantly.
"I wasn't sure how welcome my intrusion would be," Elijah murmured.
"You're not an intrusion," Giulia insisted gently. Zeus, Tisiphone and Gallant all appeared, bumping against her legs, trampling over her feet, all sniffing and wiggling and barking deeply. Seeming unconscious of it, Elijah reached out and scratched Zeus's ears as he gazed at Giulia.
"Mamma…" A tiny, tremulous voice. Giulia glanced over her shoulder, gasping and grimacing and counting to five as the sound of retching preceded a splashing noise. It continued.
Zita had vomited all over the parquet floor.
"Oh dear," Elijah said solemnly, as Giulia darted to her daughter.
"Please grab the dogs!" she called over her shoulder, and the dogs' barks echoed as Elijah whistled sharply, and the glass door slid shut.
Finally gasping for breath, Zita burst into tears.
"Shhh," Giulia soothed her, as Zita cried. "It's alright."
Zita cried, and wailed "I'm sorry!" in her tiny adorable lisp, shivering all over and flushed.
"It's only a little accident," Giulia reassured her, hiding how the smell nauseated her, quickly throwing down kitchen-towel down, tenderly wiping her daughter's tiny, sweaty little face. Zita shivered and trembled and huge tears leaked down her flushed cheeks. "It's nothing that can't be cleaned up."
It had been a little while since she had to clean up her daughter's bodily fluids but the occasional accident did happen, especially when Zita was hot and overtired, excited and full, and Giulia had become adept at handling them.
Her work with vampires the last decade was nothing compared to the hard-core training she'd put in with her infant daughter.
She appreciated that Elijah had taken the dogs out onto the deck: She could tidy up without them getting underfoot and trying to 'help' by eating everything. It had happened before.
"Do you feel better now?" Giulia asked, tenderly combing Zita's sweaty curls away from her face. Looking sorrowful and contrite, gazing at the floor, Zita nodded, tears still trickling down her face. "Well, that's okay, then. Come on, let's get you out of these clothes." She carefully stripped Zita out of her tiny, messy workout clothes, rinsing them out in the mudroom and chucking them in the washing-machine; after cleaning up the floor and mopping it with citrus-and-mint soap, she added her own grubby gear to the washing-machine and set it to wash.
So focused on cleaning up, and on the time-crunch she was under to pick up Tyler from the airport, she had forgotten that there was a man waiting outside on the deck; completely comfortable in only her skin, she lifted a still-upset, still-overheated naked little Zita into her arms and carried her upstairs to her bathroom, running a cool shower and tugging the bands out of their hair. The cool water after a grubby, achy, hot day of demolition and yoga was delicious; she rinsed off, doused Zita, and washed their hair, letting them both cool off under the water. Zita shivered from emotion, rather than the cool water, clinging to her leg. She wrapped them both up in fluffy towels, pulled on nude underwear and a snakeskin-patterned Reformation 'Venezia' dress that was her new favourite for the summer, braless because it was so hot. She dressed Zita in a little sundress, and took the time to comb her hair before it dried into its gorgeous curls.
Zita started to sag against her, sucking her fingers; Giulia knew the dangers, and picked her up, carrying her to her room. She laid her daughter down on her little big-girl bed and returned only after folding their towels and combing her hair, putting on her new minimal makeup and some jewellery, hearing Zita's tiny voice asking for her, "Mamma?"
"I'm not going anywhere," she assured Zita, padding quietly into the room; she had pulled the drapes and set up extra fans to cool her down. Zita was cuddling her Monstroctopus and was sucking her fingers, her tiny toes flexing like starfish as she drifted in and out. Hectic and humid as the morning had been, achy and tired as she was, the shower had refreshed her, given her a second wind to get through the afternoon. The cool air from the fans, her daughter's clean scent, the soft cotton bedding, her clean hair and moisturised skin were so beguiling… She could happily have lain down curled up with her daughter and dozed…
"Is Gyda's daddy is still downstairs?" Zita murmured, and Giulia stopped herself cursing aloud. She left Zita in the darkened, cool room and padded downstairs, wincing in the bright sunlight streaming through the panoramic windows overlooking the lake, the expanded deck.
Late-June, the days were the longest they ever were: and there was still a shadow on the deck, Zeus shimmering silver-blue beside the sleek outdoor sofa as Elijah unconsciously scratched his ears, reading the battered copy of Good Omens Giulia had lent to Gyda. As Giulia slid the door open, Gallant's nose lifted from Elijah's lap, where he and Tisiphone were curled: Elijah was being kept prisoner.
"Thank you," she said earnestly, as Gallant barked deeply, and Zeus grumbled at the noise. Elijah glanced up, closing the book, and smiled. "They're wonderful, but they do get underfoot when I'm trying to clean up."
"Is your daughter alright?"
"She's just overexcited," Giulia said.
"I could have helped you clean up."
"There are some things only a mother should have to do for her child," Giulia said, and Elijah chuckled softly. "I - honestly, I completely forgot you were outside."
"I completely understand," Elijah smiled warmly.
"I'm sorry to leave you waiting out here," Giulia said honestly. Cleaning up after Zita, getting them both showered, getting herself ready to pick up Tyler, she hadn't even registered that the dogs weren't making noise downstairs…
"I have time," Elijah said negligently.
"I've heard that rumour. I would've thought you'd be spending with Gyda."
"Well, there's nothing like a little quantity time," Elijah smiled. "I do draw the line at lingerie-shopping. Especially when Lagertha is involved; plausible deniability, should a massacre occur."
"She's more patient than Isak, I will give her that," Giulia smiled. "The passion-bubbles live close to the surface in your family."
"Gyda insisted we watch Wreck-It Ralph last night," Elijah said, recognition flickering in his eyes; he gave her a long-suffering frown, and Giulia chuckled.
"It's one of Zita and Spencer's favourites," she said, smiling fondly.
"Ah. That would explain her stubbornness; she desperately wanted to watch it," Elijah said thoughtfully. "It made an excellent segue into video-games. After watching Lagertha play Mario-Kart I believe it will be a little while before we encourage her to get behind the wheel of a vehicle."
"Especially one you own," Giulia laughed. "Did you drive over here?"
"No, I - I walked," Elijah said.
"In brand-new buttery Italian-leather boots?" Elijah smiled, glancing over at her from the corner of his eye. He was precious about his possessions: He believed dressing well was a form of politeness - and protection. She saw the hint of colour, and realised Elijah was still wearing the beaded bracelet Zita had made him. Something tightened in her stomach. "I am sorry I made you wait."
Elijah lifted the heavy paperback book, which had definitely seen better days. "I had excellent literature to keep me entertained - and company. How is Zita? What made her ill?"
"Overexcitement," Giulia said, sighing, seeing he was in no hurry to move - more likely he didn't wish (or dare) dislodge Tisiphone and Gallant.
"I remember those days with Ashlyn," Elijah said, chuckling softly. "And Gyda, admittedly. Thankfully they've outgrown them."
"Hm. Ask Ashlyn about Rio the next time you see her," Giulia said lightly, and Elijah raised his eyebrows. Giulia smiled, and he laughed.
"I understand it was your idea to have Kol purchase a motorcycle."
"There was a bet. Still hazy on the specifics," Giulia admitted, chuckling, and Elijah grinned. "It was Mardi Gras. Little-known rule…it's not streaking if you're wearing beads."
"Well, I'm delighted Kol somehow managed to keep up his spirits while I was daggered," Elijah said, and Giulia grinned.
"He's marvellous. He's missed you, though," Giulia told him, and Elijah shot her a bemused look. "He has. He'll never say it in so many words, but…after a lost weekend partying, it's just wonderful to go home and relax. And you're home for him."
"Well, Kol has always been the party," Elijah said thoughtfully. "I am glad he managed to stay out of mischief."
"Except on special occasions," Giulia smiled, and Elijah chuckled. Tisiphone licked his hand, and Gallant wriggled out of his lap, paws on Giulia's leg, inky eyes gazing up at her. She cupped his face, giving him a kiss between the eyes, and a vigorous pat that had him wiggling on his back, paws in the air.
"They have interesting names. Zeus, Gallant…Tisiphone."
"The name of a Fury, it means 'avenging murder'," Giulia said, smirking lightly, as she caught Elijah's eye, and his teeth glittered in the sunshine when he smiled, stroking Tisiphone's ears and her long dappled fur. "I thought it was apt."
"How does Firenze get on with them?" Elijah asked, and Giulia remembered how much her kitten had adored him.
"Firenze, that slut!" she gasped, scowling, not really very hurt. "He dumped me for Rose. I left him at the Boarding House when I went to New York for school… Ancient Egyptians learned cat-worship from Rose: Firenze has her very well-trained."
"With cats, you always know your place," Elijah said thoughtfully.
"You do," Giulia agreed. This was Simba's empire; she merely cleaned it.
Elijah frowned gently. "Did I overhear that you were expected in Richmond?"
"I'm - I'm supposed to be picking up Tyler Lockwood from the airport," Giulia said. "I don't know if you remember - "
"The young werewolf," Elijah said softly. Of course he remembered: It had been mere weeks ago for him. And Elijah had stayed with Tyler throughout the entirety of his first transformation, long after he had sent Giulia and Caroline sobbing and heartbroken from the Lockwood cellar… He had endured Tyler's bite, which to any other vampire would be terminal: He had endured it, and drawn Giulia into the memories of his family's creation as the world's first vampires. "He left Mystic Falls?"
"And I promised to pick him up. I had wanted to take him to lunch, but with Zita unwell… Enzo was supposed to watch her, but he got called into work," Giulia said softly.
"If…if you need someone to remain at the house with Zita, I - I can…" Elijah offered, faltering nervously. He licked his lips, as Giulia stared at him. Leave her daughter…with Elijah?
Encouraging Zita's friendship with Finn and Gyda was one thing…but this was Elijah. Her Elijah.
They hadn't had a private conversation yet, and today wasn't the time - there wasn't the time - and…he looked bashful to even have offered…but she was glad he had.
"I would understand entirely if you do not desire me near your child; it was a long while ago for you that we were…intimate… For me, it was only days ago that we trusted each other implicitly," Elijah said softly, backtracking, his eyes widening slightly. "But that was a decade ago for you, I know…"
It wasn't that Elijah had changed: It was because she had.
Elijah gazed at her earnestly, something solemn making those molasses eyes even darker. Heartrendingly, he told her hoarsely, "Our children eclipse all else."
She leaned forward, and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek; she meant it. She wrapped her arms around him, sighing softly, and withdrew, telling him, "It's not because you've changed, or even because you may be the same as I remember you… It's because I've changed; and I'm not going to be the same as you remember…because of her."
"One day, when you're ready, I would very much like to hear all about her," Elijah said, and Giulia beamed, nodding, her eyes burning with emotion.
"I'd like that," she said softly. Making a choice, she said shyly, "And…if you'd like to…would you like to come in? If you wouldn't mind, it would really help me if you could stay and watch over Zita until Caroline arrives."
He had trusted her with his family, after all. His daughter.
Giulia had looked after Gyda; now it was Elijah's turn to prove he could take care of Zita.
Reciprocity.
Giulia had been building relationships with all Elijah's family-members based on simple social psychology.
It had been no small thing, the reunion of his siblings, his daughter, Kol.
It was a thousand years in the making.
Giulia had done what none had ever dared to - none had even known could be attempted.
Not even Elijah had dared, even if he had entertained the hope that it could be done.
Giulia had taken care of Elijah's family.
A.N.: This chapter started out as one thing and then it became another…
