A.N.: I've just rewatched a load of early TVD Season 3 episodes and my god the characterisation of Rebekah suffers! Thank you all for your reviews - for anyone confused, "Liam" Willem is one of my OC characters, the long-lost estranged runaway brother born before Klaus, who shares the same father…and the same hybrid status…


Resurgam

16

Truth


"It was him, I am certain of it!" Finn declared, more agitated than any of them had yet seen him. He rarely raised his voice, barely spoke at all, and yet when he and Elijah had returned, with Rebekah draped over Elijah's shoulder, her neck snapped and her shimmering blonde hair tumbling freely, Finn was adamant.

"I would like to believe I too had seen Willem," Elijah told him grimly, "but we have seen neither hide nor hair of him in centuries, Finn."

"What's going on now?" Kol asked, yawning, as he sprawled on the sofa. He raised an eyebrow, just noticing Rebekah, draped over the other sofa. Lagertha was perched on the arm, sipping a White Russian and frowning down at her younger-sister. Kol gasped at Elijah, wounded: "You didn't invite me to the rumble?"

"It was unplanned, I assure you, or I would have called upon Ponyboy and Dallas too," Elijah told him tartly; Gyda grinned at the reference to The Outsiders. "Niklaus and Rebekah attacked Giulia and Elena at the Boarding House."

"And…you disposed of Niklaus's ashes in the quarry, in a little bit of cinematic irony, avenging dear Lady G?" Kol prompted, and Elijah gave him a look. "Where is he, then?"

"When Finn went back to get Niklaus, his body was gone," Elijah said quietly.

"He didn't just walk off by himself," said Finn, frowning, "not with the damage Giulia inflicted on him."

"Is Giulia hurt?" Gyda asked, looking concerned.

"She was not in the garden," Finn told her calmly, "only some blood. Enough she could survive losing."

"You of all people should hardly be surprised by what Giulia can heal from," Kol said offhandedly to Elijah, gesturing for Lagertha's drink; he sipped it, returning the glass.

"Like inescapable death," Elijah said coolly.

"Exactly! You saw her charred twisted corpse," Kol said, giving him a smile. "And yet, she's just as plump and perky in all the perfectly delectable places as before she danced naked in the flames…" Elijah reached out and clipped Kol around the ear - though he was correct, of course: Giulia's figure was mouth-watering. "So what's got Finn's knickers in a twist?"

"Finn believes he saw Willem," Lagertha said quietly. Gyda glanced sharply at her aunt. Elijah had been in New York, decades ago, searching for Gyda, when he had come across Willem by chance in the street. They had arranged to meet for a drink: Willem had never showed up.

His brother had disappeared into the winds.

Elijah told himself, it didn't hurt.

"It was him," Finn insisted. "Would I forget my own brother's face?"

"More easily than you'd think," Kol said grimly, staring into the White Russian that Lagertha had just passed back to him.

"It has not been so long since I have seen Willem," Finn reminded them. "His face is as clear in my mind as the day he disappeared. It was him, Elijah."

"If…Finn believes he saw Willem…it's likely he did," Gyda said softly. "Willem knows how to remain hidden, if he doesn't wish to be seen."

Elijah glanced at Gyda, frowning thoughtfully. They hadn't lived together as father and daughter for centuries; there were parts of her life he knew nothing about. He knew that she had settled in New York after they had fled the bloody revolutions in Europe during the Eighteenth Century, when he, Niklaus and Rebekah had made New Orleans their home.

He wondered whether Gyda had seen more of Willem than any of them had.

Elijah tried to remember what Gyda's relationship with Willem had been like during their human lives; he tried, and couldn't remember. Elijah and Finn had had their farm; and Willem had been a very hard worker, born decades after Elijah. They had not been especially close; Willem and Lagertha had gotten along very well. Elijah could only remember Marseilles, when Gyda had become polished, and Willem elusive: Gyda had become Lucrezia's lady-in-waiting: Willem had often travelled abroad as emissary for the Count, swift, violent and reliable.

The Count of Marseilles had also been keen to keep Willem parted from his intoxicatingly beautiful wife, Lucrezia, who had favoured Willem in the early years, before she and Elijah had fallen in love.

Willem had always seemed relieved when he was sent on political missions. During their time in Marseilles, Willem had travelled as far as Constantinople, returning with stories full of wonder that had captivated them more even than the treasures he transported back. When Marseilles fell to Mikael, Willem had disappeared, with Lucrezia's twin children, grown adults by then, and Lucrezia's ward Sancia, none of them to be heard of ever again.

Not until New York, mere decades ago.

Elijah hadn't found it easy to forget his brother's face: He had known instantly when he saw Willem striding across the street, golden blonde hair shining, a half-foot taller than anyone else, and built like a brick-shithouse, drawing the eye of every woman around them.

"Forget Willem for a moment," Kol said, sighing heavily, frowning across the room, at Rebekah. He pointed the White Russian at her prone form. "What are we going to do with Rebekah? I hope you're going to force her to share a bedroom with Gyda; it's all getting far too cosy, living here with you all, content. We're due some sparks flying."

"Why did you bring her back here?" Gyda asked Elijah, who sighed.

"Rebekah is the only one who does not yet know the truth about Mother's murder," he said quietly, fiddling with his ring. That revelation had changed everything for him.

"She won't believe it," Kol said dismissively. "All the work Nik's put into her over the centuries? The idea is laughable…ha, ha, ha."

"It may be time…to rip off some very ancient bandages," Elijah said, and Lagertha glanced up sharply.

"You cannot be serious, Elijah." She snapped it in the Old Tongue, the ancient Norse they had grown up speaking in Kattegat. Elijah held her eye for a long moment.

"If she were to remember everything…"

"She would be broken. We walled up those memories for a reason," Lagertha hissed. It was unlike her to defend Rebekah, protect her; so much so, the others exchanged surprised expressions. "You would do that to her, just to punish Niklaus?"

"To free her from him, I would," Elijah said sternly. "Niklaus has had the monopoly over Rebekah for nigh on a millennium. And Kol was correct; he will find some way to snake his way back in, even should we manage to convince her of the true nature of Mother's death."

"Rebekah had Esther for seventeen years; she's had Klaus inflicted on her for well over a thousand," Kol said, sighing heavily, settling into the sofa; Kol, who looked to be in his late-twenties, was far older than any of them, even Elijah, Esther's firstborn. Kol, an uncannily talented witch, had extended his mortal life with magic…so had Esther. The spells they had created had formed the basis of the spell that had created Esther's surviving children and granddaughter, her nephew, into the world's first vampires.

Kol and Esther had always been very close; Elijah had often wondered whether, of all of them, Kol truly missed Esther the most. They had been together for decades before the first of her children, Elijah, had been born.

"Give her the choice," Gyda said quietly. "The choice Esther and Mikael never gave us. If these memories will irreparably change Rebekah…especially if they are the memories I believe you are referencing…give Rebekah the choice."

"Even if she chose to remove the blocks, who would we find to do it?" Isak asked angrily: Like Kol, Isak had been born a very powerful witch. To this day he loathed Esther for severing his link to Nature by recreating him as an abomination.

The milky cocktail in Kol's hand shattered suddenly; in midair, the shards of glass, the Kahlua, the cream and the vodka separated, swirling weightless, eerie… The glass reformed itself, the ice cubes grew, reforming, and chinked delicately as they drifted into the glass, the liquids swirling like a whirlpool.

Kol raised his eyebrows, looking mildly impressed, and said, "Thanks!"

He was addressing the spirits of the witches who lingered here, of course, at the site of their murders centuries ago.

The spirits who kept Isak locked in his room when he was a bad boy; who nurtured the parterres and the trees; kept the fresh paint from blistering in the heat; whose power had been channelled to safeguard Mystic Falls with Giulia's sacrifice, to revive Elena after her death.

Lagertha approached Elijah, looking ferocious. "You cannot think to tear the scars from those wounds, Elijah."

"I cannot allow Niklaus to dominate her for the next millennium as he has the last," he answered, just as fiercely. "You were in a box; I witnessed every atrocity he committed unto her." Lagertha's eyes widened.

"He did not -"

"He never dared, not ever again. But he killed every man she adored," Elijah said softly, sighing, and shook his head, looking at Rebekah. His youngest, foolhardy, passionate sister, talented and clever and abused.

"So, what, our plan is to wake Rebekah, shove her in the caves, hope she understands the writing on the walls, puts her foot down and never acknowledges Klaus again for the next thousand years?" Kol asked, pulling a face.

"Perhaps you should start making some drinks," Elijah suggested, after a beat, and Kol nodded, hauling himself off the sofa.

"This will all be a lot more entertaining if we're all sozzled," Kol sighed to himself, approaching the drinks cabinet.

There was a knock on the front-door.

They exchanged wary looks, and Lagertha opened the door.

Stood on the threshold, bronzed and handsome, was Willem.

Elijah shot Finn an apologetic look. He truly had not dared believe it may have been their estranged brother, lest he be disappointed again.

But it was him, and Kol muttered, "More drinks. More, more drinks," his eyes wide, disbelieving.

They hadn't seen Willem in centuries…all but Gyda, who was the only one to approach him, beaming; he gave her a casual one-armed hug that seemed familiar, smiling warmly, and gave her a kiss, teasing her about her haircut. His arm around Gyda's shoulders, he entered the house, closing the front-door behind him as the rest stared at him.

"So…what've I missed?"

"Drinks. Many, many drinks!"

"It was you in New York," Elijah said softly, gazing at Willem. Staring at him, he and Niklaus were different in their looks, for all they shared the same biological heritage. Warmth, a sincere nature, seemed to emanate from Willem's handsome, open face; he seemed utterly unperturbed, relaxed, even jovial, surrounded by the family who were now the world's most notorious predators.

Elijah envied the lightness of his smile.

He did not carry a thousand years of Niklaus's trauma.

"I should say I'm sorry to have left you hanging," Willem said honestly. "But I'd heard enough stories to know that where there's Elijah, there's Rebekah, and often Niklaus."

"You avoided our reunion," Elijah said calmly, referring to New York. He frowned at his estranged brother, finally asking, "What has changed?"

Willem grinned at him, his sapphire eyes sparkling with irony. "You have to ask? Of all people? Giulia, Elijah."

Elijah's jaw dropped.

"Giulia? My Giulia?"

"She was certainly yours, then," Willem chuckled. "I hear you've been on a time-out."

Elijah stared at him. "How did Giulia…?"

"Find me? She was looking for her uncle," Willem said, and his gaze slid over Gyda. "Joshua Salvatore." Gyda's eyes widened: Willem sighed heavily. "Joshua was on his way to my old farm when he was…detained."

"Detained? By whom?" Elijah asked, frowning.

"The Order," Willem said grimly, and a whisper seemed to hiss around the room: They had all had brushes with members of the fanatical Order through the centuries.

"Anyway…she tracked me down…"

"You're the one who confirmed her theories about Niklaus's transformation," Elijah realised, and Willem shrugged. "And you are here, now -?"

"Giulia invited me. A good thing, though she seemed to have things under control. I do admire a woman who can defend herself," Willem said, winking over at Lagertha, the shield-maiden. He glanced at Elijah, seeing him taut like a wire. "Don't worry; Giulia's just fine. She's had fresh blood; she's healed. I'd say no harm, no foul, but…" Ice-cubes clinked, and Kol handed Willem something; he made the rounds, and they all sipped their potent drinks, staring at Willem, who glanced down at Rebekah, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.

He sighed. "Did I hear you talking about Mother as I approached the house?"

"Esther's murder, specifically," Isak said lightly. He had called her nothing but Esther since the night she and Mikael turned them into vampires, severing his link to Nature, to his magic. He and Kol had been prodigies; they had been Esther's magical protégés.

Willem looked at them all carefully; he glanced at Finn, and sighed, lowering his glass. "You mean Klaus. How did you find out?"

"I found out…a decade ago," Elijah said, biting his lip, frowning. "Giulia had discovered the paintings in the caves when she was researching the Underground Railroad for a school assignment… When she learned of our origins, she pieced together the story in the pictograms… She showed me the caves. And you?"

Willem gazed at him, then admitted, "The day Mother died."

They stared at him.

"You knew?"

"Father never lived in the jarlshall after our transformations, you recall?" Finn said softly.

"It was Mother's sanctum," Willem sighed. "The one place she could let down her guard…where she could work, unhindered." He shot a wily look at Isak and Kol out of the corner of his eye.

"How could you know?" Lagertha breathed.

"Because I trusted my instincts," Willem sighed heavily. "I…found Rollo, and his family. His children, torn apart… Niklaus always had very unique chemo-signals…"

"Chemo-signals?" Lagertha frowned. She was still adapting to modern language, science. She had just about read Darwin's Origin before she was daggered the last time.

"Our scent. It changes with marked emotion," Willem said softly. "Rollo's home reeked of Niklaus. No hint of Mikael."

"Why did you never speak of this?" Finn asked, almost growling.

Willem glanced over his shoulder at Finn, then stared around at them. In a tone that dripped with mockery, he said, "Always and forever… Niklaus's precious vow he extracted from you. He did his utmost at the first opportunity to protect himself, using you… He always made himself appear Mikael's perpetual victim…a little consideration for others and a sense of responsibility and his place in the village, and Mikael would have respected anything else Niklaus did with his life…instead he was lazy and irreverent and entitled."

"You do not blame Mikael for beating him?"

"Mikael disciplined all of us, Elijah; his teachings gave us with the tools we needed to carve out our place in the world. Or have you forgotten?" Finn said softly, and Elijah sighed, remembering. He, Finn, Kol, Lagertha, Isak - they had been raised in very different times, a different culture, than their younger siblings, than Willem, Niklaus, Rebekah and Henrik, the New World babies born years after Freya's death.

Elijah had been raised with a deep respect for the fact that every man, woman and child had to earn their right to survive: It had been no easier in the New World, and Niklaus had capitalised on the hard work of others.

Mikael had always despised how Niklaus took everything for granted.

"I would never have dared speak to you the way Niklaus spoke to Grandfather sometimes," Gyda remarked. "You cuffed me round the ear often enough if I was ever smart to Mother."

"A clip round the ear was a warning," Elijah frowned, appalled to realise he did not ever remember cuffing Gyda - but she obviously did.

"And Niklaus never heeded his warnings," Finn said grimly.

"He was a spoiled, selfish child," Lagertha said coldly.

"…bitch…" A muffled groan, and a subtle movement; Rebekah raised her hand to her neck, pinching and kneading, as she sat up straighter. She blinked, and opened her sapphire-blue eyes, eyes so like Willem's.

Rebekah's reaction was almost comical, given the circumstances.

It was rare to experience her truly struck dumb.

She stared at Lagertha and Gyda.

"Am I in hell?"

"Excellent, you're awake!" Kol chirped. He brandished a blush-coloured drink garnished with cherries at her. "De la Louisiane; your favourite. Drink up. There's more to come. You're going to need them. Correction: I'm going to need you to drink them…"

"What the bloody hell is going on?" she swore, gazing up at Willem as if she had never seen anything so absurd as him perched on the arm of the sofa, Gyda sipping a cocktail at his side and Finn leaning against the wall behind them, trying to keep up with the conversation in modern English.

"Rebekah, language," Elijah chided, without heat, and her eyes lanced to him, a smile fluttering to her lips, warmth oozing from her eyes.

"Elijah!" He smiled sadly, and leaned over to kiss her brow.

"I am glad to see you awake, sister," he told her sincerely.

"Then why don't you look glad?" Rebekah asked, cutting through the bullshit. Elijah sipped the drink Kol had mixed him; the flavours coated his tongue, complex, beguiling - the punch of the alcohol came later, delayed, and lethal. "Am I - is this a dream? Why is Willem here? And what on earth has Gyda done to her hair?"

"It's not a dream; and it's called a pixie-cut, Rebekah," Gyda said curtly, crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at her least-favourite aunt.

"Drink up, Gyda; Bekah, behave. You two can brawl after we've settled some family business," Kol said, and Gyda pulled a face at him. Elijah sighed, thinking, That didn't take long.

Rebekah and Gyda could hardly stand to remain in the same room together for any duration before they started squabbling: They had always rubbed each other the wrong way.

In their way, they did love each other: They had a habit of forgetting that.

"What do you mean, family business?" Rebekah frowned, then sat up straight, her features sharpening. "Where is Niklaus?"

"Not scattered across the quarry," Kol muttered disappointedly.

"I removed him from the grounds of the Boarding House; there were mortals swarming all over the place," Willem said. "There was an old stone cellar…"

"The Lockwood cellar," Elijah murmured, remembering vividly Tyler Lockwood's first transformation - Elijah had stayed with the boy, suffered his bite, and endured the poison… That was the night he inadvertently drew Giulia into his memories, showing her the genesis of the vampire species.

"Lockwood?" Willem frowned thoughtfully, canting his head to one side. Elijah had kept enough dogs throughout the ages to notice how doglike…wolfish the movement was.

"Mm. Tyler Lockwood - a childhood friend of Giulia's," Elijah said quietly. "You know the name?"

"Vaguely."

"Why am I here? Why have you separated us?" Rebekah asked coldly, glaring over at Elijah, who glanced at Finn, at Lagertha, and sighed heavily.

"It is time you learned the truth, Rebekah," he said sadly. This would break her heart - what little Niklaus had left of it unscathed over the centuries. Perhaps it was his sadness that gave her pause; his tempestuous sister frowned, bemused.

"What do you mean, Elijah?"

"Will you come with me, sister?" Elijah said gently. At her sceptical glance around the room - at the siblings and niece and cousin she had often been involved in daggering as part of some nefarious, selfish plan of Niklaus's - Elijah offered her his hand. Maybe his solemn expression sold it; maybe it was her innate curiosity.

Either way, Rebekah took his hand, rising from the sofa.


Elijah hadn't thought about the reality of showing Rebekah the cave paintings, only of how to get her to the caves themselves, to remove her from Niklaus long enough for her to digest the truth… They had all had the privilege of processing the truth in their own ways, without the interference or excuses of Niklaus, working the only magic he had ever had; manipulation.

Watching Rebekah read the pictograms…and then realise what they meant

It was heart-wrenching. The air was thick with the scent of her grief - with her rage…and her confusion.

She tried to run from the cave; to accuse them of creating the paintings; screaming that they had been drawn by people who knew nothing about their family…

They didn't let her run from the truth: Lagertha blocked her path, fierce and immoveable, forcing Rebekah to confront the truth - a truth that had been kept buried for a thousand years. Literally: The subterranean paintings, and the desiccation of their brother.

Willem told her that he had scented Niklaus all over Rollo's home, when he discovered the family, mangled, torn to shreds, beyond recognition: He had scented Niklaus, but not Mikael, at the jarlshall. He stood with his thick, scarred arms folded over his burly chest, hair glinting in the meagre light; he had inherited all of Mother's looks and, just like Lagertha, a great deal of Esther's nurturing, fierce nature.

Willem was everything Niklaus was not.

Finn told Rebekah that he had confronted Niklaus about the truth: He had paid for his naïveté with nine centuries desiccated in a box.

It was not necessary to rip open old scars damming brutal memories: Rebekah broke.

She collapsed at the foot of the wall, sobbing, confused, and grief-stricken, as if Mother had died once again.

Everything for them was heightened. When they were delighted, it was euphoria. When they were in love, it was ecstasy. When they were hurt

Rebekah hurt.

And Elijah alone in the cave was the one person she trusted. Not Kol, not Gyda, not her forgotten brother Finn, not Lagertha, not irreverent Isak, whose eyes were stark as he gazed at the paintings once again, remembering the lives they had lost.

Elijah tried to comfort her, as best he was able: Over a thousand years, he had become practiced in comforting his youngest sister, his impetuous, brave, huge-hearted, lonely Rebekah.

"He had her blood on his hands," she cried, and Elijah shushed her, rocking her gently, stroking her long golden hair. Crystal tears leaked down her cheeks, dripping off the tip of her delicate little sun-freckled nose, her eyes red and eyelashes glittering. "I remember, Elijah… He told me…he told me he had tried to…to save her. He said her blood was everywhere, that he got it on his hands when he took her necklace from around her neck… He said he knew I had always coveted Mother's trinket… He killed her so I could have it…"

Elijah's lips parted in horror - not at Rebekah's memory, but what she took from it: That it was her fault.

That Niklaus had killed their mother because Rebekah envied her necklace.

She was devastated, hiccoughing, choking, unable to breathe, exhausting herself as she sobbed, the way overexcited children worked themselves into such a state they became ill; she was there, her grief uncontrollable, her agony palpable. She was a mess.

It was the most human Elijah had seen her in centuries.

Elijah clutched her nape, his expression stern, as he forced her to look him in the face.

"Niklaus murdered Mother because of Niklaus alone. Neither Mikael, nor you, nor Mother herself had anything to do with it," he said severely. "Only Niklaus. He betrayed all we had been raised to be when he snatched Mother's heart from her chest, and brutalised Rollo's family until they were nothing more than unrecognisable slabs of ruined meat…" At Elijah's horrified gasp, Rebekah sobbed, more tears dripping down her cheeks. "Niklaus murdered Mother, and Rollo…Rollo's children, Niklaus's own siblings… He ruined them; and the first thing he did was manipulate us into protecting him, he used us as a shield against Mikael's wrath. And he punished us for our loyalty to him."

"Why are you telling me this?" Rebekah wailed, choking.

"Because it ends now," Lagertha said sternly, sounding so much like her old self, her human self, the fierce mortal Valkyrie, a lethal swan-maiden of the shield-wall.

Elijah sighed heavily. "This is the first time all of us - all of us, even Willem and Finn, Rebekah! - have been in the same room together in nearly a millennium. Niklaus fears so little - but all of us, united in this truth… There is nothing Niklaus should fear more. Not even Mikael… Niklaus's power over us is broken."

"I have said the same before, Elijah," Rebekah cried, gazing at him, deeply upset, grief-stricken, a thousand years' worth of memories shadowing her face. "You know that better than anyone."

"Before, we were not united," Lagertha said, a strange gentleness in her voice as she gazed at Rebekah.

"Niklaus made certain of it," Isak growled softly.

"But now…" Kol's smirk was lethal, a promise.

"What are you going to do to him?" Rebekah asked on a whisper; dread, mingled with grim acceptance, almost breathless. She had been trained to promote Niklaus's interests above anything else, even to her own detriment.

"We've been discussing our ideas over drinks," Kol quipped, giving a shark's grin.

"It all depends," Elijah said softly, frowning at his sister. He reached up and brushed her tears away tenderly with his thumbs. He tucked a lock of her shimmering hair behind her ear, and she turned her face into his palm, like a cat seeking comfort. She gentled in an instant, in the familiarity of the gesture, the affectionate gesture Elijah alone gave her.

Her eyelashes were damp and spiky with shed tears as she gazed at him, exhausted, morose, messy, but there was always, always that glimmer of something behind her sapphire eyes, that inextinguishable glint of fire, of stubbornness…hope.

She sounded exhausted when she told him, "There is a party at the Salvatore Boarding House tomorrow… Niklaus intends to snatch a werewolf, turn a vampire and slaughter the doppelgänger… He thinks Mother's curse was not lifted."

Elijah sighed, clicking his tongue, almost disappointed. "So predictable, Niklaus."


A.N.: Because didn't Elijah tell Klaus that he's 'predictable' in The Originals? And why didn't it create a huge rift between them, that Klaus murdered their mother? Also... I kind of like that I wrote Rebekah's immediate reaction is that Klaus killed Esther because she liked the necklace. That's the kind of warped logic Rebekah would have, after being abused by Klaus for so long. It's always their fault. She did something to provoke him; why couldn't she see that she made him do it, etc. He's a textbook Dark Triad personality: Malignant narcissism, psychopathy and Machiavellianism (with an additional, often debated fourth trait, sadism). If we saw him on Criminal Minds there'd be no question that he is evil…just sayin'.