Edited 3/23/18
Chapter 1
"I'm not crying because of you; you're not worth it. I'm crying because my delusion of who you were was shattered by the truth of who you are."
– Steve Maraboli.
-Mystic Falls, July 2009-
Patricia wanted to hate the 21st century. It was vile, to an old fashioned mind like her own. The revealing clothing, the machinery. The whole world seemed to be built around sex and physical attractiveness. The music. The various advertisements. Everything was physical.
She wanted to hate it.
She wanted to join marches to protest the objectification of women. She wanted to demand that they remove all the bikini clad girls from advertisements for cars (which still made no sense to her- women weren't allowed to drive back in the day) and strange disgusting carbonated drinks (she had almost vomited her first one, but they were unfortunately quite addictive). She wanted nothing more than to demand equal pay, and leave, and all sorts of things for women.
But surprisingly she found how much she loved being a woman in the 21st century.
The first time she'd walked into a pub she was dressed as conservatively as possible. A dress to her knees, with thin straps and a rather high neck. It fit her form nicely, but kept it mostly hidden- unlike the other females on the premises, each one in a state of more undress than the other. The men had fawned over her, bought her drinks. Flirted beyond belief. Touched her more than what she remembered as being acceptable. She'd danced into the morning, and gotten drunk and high and god knew what else.
She didn't care.
She could drink without being called loose. She could get drugs without a fuss. She could dress however she wanted without being called a slut or a whore. She could do whatever she bloody well wanted without the judgment she would have received 95 years in the past.
So she went back the next night, ignoring the hangover. Her dress was shorter this time; her heels higher. She walked in, swaying her hips for nothing but attention. So what if she was married? That had never bothered Klaus when he'd lay with women time and time again in their shared bedroom. A thousand years she'd dealt with her husband's infidelity, and not once had she slept with another man.
She loved him in spite of everything, but the last memory she had of him involved a dagger in her heart all because she flirted with another man. Patricia had been so angry with him so many times, but never as full of rage as when his hurting eyes met her own golden orbs.
He had no right, as far as she was concerned, to be hurt by her actions.
So she was flirting. Seducing another man, spreading her legs. Whatever the fuck Klaus wanted to call it- she didn't care. After an entire weekend of hearing the moans and cries of another woman in her own bed with her bloody fucking husband- she didn't care. It had been years since she'd cried over his many mistresses, and she was fed up with being the pathetic wife who sat around waiting for the man who would never come home.
Home had never been a place, in her eyes. She'd lived in far to many mansions to care for one in particular (though the home they'd built in New Orleans had been extremely dear to her).
No, home was where her family was. Niklaus, Elijah, Rebekah, Kol, Finn, Jacob and Bihalia. They were home.
So here, in the walls of the grand mansion Elijah had procured for her; here she felt more homeless than she had during the centuries she'd spent on the run.
In her mind's eye she could see her family here. Of the many gifts she had; sight was on of the strangest. The first vision she'd ever had was of Henrik. She'd seen him die years before his death. The first vision of many to follow- at first presumed to be a nightmare, but when she saw his dead body cast before her she knew it to be more. It had haunted her forever, her gift- showing her death and carnage so horrid it haunted even her twisted mind. But sometimes- on very rare occasions- it brought a smile to her face.
She could see her husband wrapping his arms around her in the kitchen, and her brothers arguing in the front yard. In the future they would all be there. The problem was, she had no idea when it would happen. Could be a week, or a decade, but in the end her visions always came to pass.
She jumped at the sound of vibrations, only to remember her phone. The vibrating meant someone was calling her.
How she longed for a spin dial phone- so easy to pick up. So easy to dial. The small devices with the little buttons were hard enough, but Elijah had thought it necessary to present her with the more advanced form of the technological device- which had no buttons to press whatsoever.
"Stupid thing." She muttered under her breath, as she pressed the green icon which appeared on the screen right under the colored image of her smiling brother. It never ceased to amaze her how advanced the human race had become. Pictures with color, and portable phones with no buttons or dials. Who would have imagined such fiction could become reality?
"Enjoying the 21st century, little sister?"
"You sound like you're enjoying my predicament far to much, Elijah. I never knew you to be such a sadist."
Elijah laughed. "I understand your frustration, darling sister, and I am sympathetic. But I'd much appreciate it if instead of moping about the time lost to the dagger, you'd aid me in my cause. I have information about her, speaking of.
Always an agenda, that was what she liked to say about her family. Nothing they did came without personal interest. So Elijah's "cause" explained so perfectly why she of all their siblings had been awoken (that is, beyond his claim that the others had been abandoned at sea).
She was the most ruthless, and the most contained of them all.
Kol was brutal. Rebekah had very little self control. But Finn was too self righteous to be anything but contained. But a thousand years of being married to a man who cheated, and not exacting revenge on him (whereas her husband's whores rarely lived to leave the threshold) did nothing but prove how much self control she had.
So when Elijah asked her to protect the Petrova doppelganger- this time in the form of a girl named Elena Gilbert- Patricia had barely reacted. He was asking her to attend High School. To pose as a teenager. A human. He was asking that she keep the very bane of her existence safe, and unharmed.
Fresh meat for a blood sacrifice.
"I could just kill her. Rip her throat out. Can you imagine how unbearable Klaus will be if he breaks this bloody curse after so many years? If we kill her now it spares us all the trouble."
He laughed once more, the familiar sound causing Patricia to scowl. "A thousand years you keep a straight face only to laugh now at my expense? Are you drunk, Elijah Mikaelson?"
"Don't be ridiculous, sister, it's not even noon. I just find your bitterness misplaced and frankly quite foolish. She bares her ancestor's face, that does not mean she is Tatia."
It was her turn to laugh. But her laugh held all the bitterness he was reprimanding her for. The was no humor in her voice as she spat out harsh and mocking words. "You know I vaguely remember this conversation brother; the difference being that last time you and I were in the same room, which allowed me to hit you when I deemed it necessary. How long did you spend trying to persuade me to befriend Katerina Petrova, Elijah?
"Clearly not long enough with the way things turned out to be. You could have given her a chance before chasing her off. You could have aided me when I needed you, sister."
"Are you seriously trying to guilt me into your service, brother? That's just low."
"Just because Tatia was the bane of your existence does not mean that anyone who looks like her is a threat to your ever so peaceful lifestyle, Patricia. Besides, if you asked me..."
"There's a reason I haven't."
"You were far to hard on her."
"That bitch was toying with my brother all whilst trying to gain my husband's affection." Patricia growled, remembering the first woman in a long line to ever tempt her husband. Though Niklaus had never slept with Tatia, she remembered their blatant flirting all over town, and the pitying looks of the towns people as she watched them from afar. "How exactly did you expect me to treat her, Elijah? Candy and flowers? That was your job, if I do recall."
"Well while I did indeed provide some luxuries, I certainly do not believe that throwing her to the wolves was a good substitute for chocolate; caramel is excellent for that. The same applies for drowning her, as well as that time you broke her nose."
She allowed her eyes to roll in her head, though she subconsciously reminded herself that he couldn't see her reaction. "I do hope you're not expecting an apology on her behalf. She deserved far worse than what she got."
"You know, I've always said that the uncanny similarity between the two of you was the reason for your hatred of each other."
A scowl graced her features. The humor in his voice was pushing all the wrong buttons in all the wrong ways. "If that was an attempt to improve my mood I can assure you that it failed, Elijah."
"Well then I can honestly say that by no means was that statement supposed to be comforting."
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill her, Elijah."
"You and I both know you could never betray Niklaus like that."
"And yet you ask me to do just that."
"I doubt myself sometimes, but in the end I am hoping you will prioritize your loyalties correctly, sister, and stand by your family."
"Niklaus is my family." She whispered furiously. Her heart ached in her chest as she said it; the never ending pain of her husband's constant betrayal surfacing in her mind.
"Of course."
Patricia could hear his hesitation. Her brother clearly realized that he'd overstepped his boundaries. "Have you heard from Jacob or Bihalia?"
She'd been married to Klaus at 13, and yet when her 18th birthday came and went with no children borne (not for a lack of trying), they'd all assumed her to be barren. Therefore when she was killed by her adoptive father, resurrected, and then impregnated by her husband- it was a shock to them all to say the least. It was an even greater surprise when both the babies were born in good health. They were, of course, natural hybrids (lacking the curse their father bore). They had been born immortal, so none of them were quite sure whether or not they could ever be killed (no one would find out, on Patricia's watch); but they were most certainly affected by the daggers. She could not count how many quarrels her twins had had ending with a dagger to the chest.
"I have not, so if you've anything to tell me about their well being- I demand that you say it, Elijah."
"They're both fine. Halia has been attempting to fill our darling sister's shoes, and is currently in the process of a rather large shopping spree. As far as your son, Niklaus just recently made amends with him after their last quarrel, and Jacob is now traveling with him."
The mother sighed.
Their daughter had always been far closer to Niklaus than Jacob was, a fact that greatly pained Niklaus. After the hardships of his relationship with Mikael, Patricia knew he'd always wanted a son to do better by than his father had done by him- but it seemed that nothing he did could please their son. The two were often at odds, and unfortunately if a millennium had not changed that it was a foolish notion to hope that 95 years could.
"Have you told them...?"
"That you've awoken? Not yet. But I can only assume they already know, what with your connection."
Their link. Yet another one of the great mysteries of her immortal children. Since their conception she could feel their presence in her mind- she could communicate with them; even if only by vague images and feelings.
"Our connection has its limits."
"So does your magic." The hidden meaning was not lost on her. Patricia could hear exactly what he was saying without uttering words.
"If you are referring to our last conversation, brother, I can assure you that I am perfectly capable of upholding my word."
"If by upholding your word you mean torturing our family- then no, I've never doubted that you are quite exceptional in the art of suffering, Patricia."
"He didn't bury them at sea, Elijah." She snapped angrily. "Why can't you just trust me on this?"
"Because you are his wife." He growled on the other end. It was ever so rare that Elijah's anger grew enough to affect his detached speech, and Patricia found herself annoyed that this was what it took to set the feral tone to his voice. "And I will not allow you to further rip apart my family by awaking my brothers and sister in the depths of the ocean."
A lump caught itself in her throat. "Our brothers and sister." Her eyes were watering furiously, and Patricia could not help the lone tear that slid down her cheek. Just as lonely as I am, she thought to herself bitterly. "They are my family too."
"Niklaus is your family." The voice on the other end said, and had she cared to notice she'd have heard the hoarseness in his voice.
"Aye, and he is your's as well. Don't speak to me ever again, Elijah."
And with that she sent the line dead, hurling her phone across the room- watching the pieces fall apart as she curled into herself, and cried.
"Can I help you?"
Such funny questions these humans asked. How are you? How may I assist you? Do you need anything? What's wrong with your eyes?
It was odd, how 3,000 years could change so much and yet so little. His eyes (which were perfectly fine, as he'd told the boy before breaking his neck) scoured the small shop. Such small trinkets, so useless. So breakable. So clearly made by mortal men.
He looked away from the stuffed dog with the disproportionate head and facial features. What a ridiculously disturbing thing to create. His eyes landed on the girl behind the counter. Very pretty, but fragile. How easily she could be strangled with her long red hair- terror filling her pale blue eyes as the life left her, and her freckled face went slack. The image was stunning in his mind. Her blood just as red as her flaming head of hair, spilled in a pool around her lifeless body- sleeping for all of eternity.
Soon. But not quite yet.
"Yes, I was hoping you could point me in the direction of an old friend's home." He allowed his voice to fade into the shadow, the vessel's smooth tone taking over. The tone was so perfectly normal it sickened him, but then again nothing else could be expected from such an ordinary host. "It'll probably be relatively big, he has a flare for extravagance. Klaus Mikaelson?"
"Well you're right about big." The girl said, her accent just as plain as her. "The old Mikaelson mansion is just down the block. It's the largest one for miles around. One of the oldest, too. Apparently it's been passed down in their family, but it's been empty for years till last week. Not sure about a Klaus, though... I think it was taken up by some guy named Elijah."
The moral brother. The hypocrite. The one who spoke of values and humanity as he cleansed his hands from the blood of his victims. The Prometheus of the Mikaelson family. The one who would aid him just as easily as he would resist. Interesting. Most likely he was in town for the same reason as his brother. The politics of the Original family amused him beyond belief. It was almost like watching a modernized, weaker, pathetic version of the Olympians. Absolutely ridiculous. One could only applaud the fools for lasting as long as they had.
"Well that works just as well I suppose." He said casually, his fingers toying with the doll. The stupid, disturbing critter was growing on him- a fact that he found most irritating. Reminents of humanity from his host, he could only assume, just as the foolish desire to eat human morsles like french fries came from the boy. What a foolish boy he had been.
"Um... your welcome... anything else I can get you?"
"Well now that you mention it, would you ever so kindly pass on regards to my son?" A smirk played at his lips as he saw her face contort with the lack of understanding.
"Your son? Wh...?"
He absolutely adored the sound bodies made when they hit the floor, and he savored the moment as he walked away leaving the simple girl as she fell, far to broken to be mistaken asleep.
No one knew Klaus better than Patricia.
It amazed Elijah, at times, how fluent she was in his tongues- how easily she deciphered his actions. She understood him as an equal- as her husband- unlike Elijah who could only see him as his little brother, she saw the man. The side of Niklaus that was accessible to Patricia was limited to her and her alone.
At times he even envied his sister, for being so close with his dearest brother- who'd once trusted him beyond anyone else.
It was for that exact reason that his guilt could not be pushed to the corner of his mind.
How many people did his sister truly and completely trust? Up until that morning it had been limited to himself and her children. Now he feared, only Jacob and Bihalia had her unwavering belief in them. They'd all hurt her, at some point in time- all had been forgiven. But Elijah knew that all the cruel things Patricia had ever heard from their siblings were surpassed by his own- not a single contender coming in at a close second.
Though his mind wandered aimlessly through tortured memories and guilty gardens- Elijah's own legs walked with purpose through Central Park. While he told his sister that her daughter was wasting her time with trivial things- his words were only a partial truth. He'd known exactly where she was for months and who she was consorting with. Humans had never been of much interest to Bihalia, this was a fact. While they intrigued her- having never been human herself- she could never be bothered with them for anything but sex and feeding, a thought that had always disturbed Elijah. So when he'd first received word from his contacts that she was sighted roaming the city with a human boy, his disbelief was perfectly natural.
As if summoned by some magical cue, his supernatural hearing picked up his neice's familiar voice just beyond the next corner.
"I can't, Will." As if of their own accord, Elijah's brows rose. When had that sweet tone grown so genuine, so emotional?
The boy she was with, Will, gave a deep sigh. "Halley, if this is because of the war... you know that this would only do me good..."
"It's not the war." And still no snappy disregard. No harshness found in her tone- only affection. Elijah couldn't help but wonder what war they were discussing, but he pushed the thought aside as he rounded the corner. "When my dad finds out, he'll be furious. As far as he's concerned, no one is ever good enough for me."
"While Niklaus and I disagree more often than not, I must concur with him on this matter." Her surprise at his sudden appearence should not have annoyed him so, but he couldn't help it. "You musn't be caught by surprise like that, my dear. And as for your... taste..? You seem to share a genetic vision impairment with your aunt, I'm afraid."
He watched as the steel returned to the pale eyes that so resembled those of his little brother. "Uncle Elijah." The chill had returned to her voice as she detatched her hand from that of the human boy's to push her blond curls out of her feild of vision. Even as she stood, her uncomfortably high heels still could not make up for her height disadvantage. The small pink peice of fabric she may call a dress did nothing to hide an impressive floral tattoo running the length of her leg.
"It seems much has changed by you. Is your father aware of your knew hobbies, Bihalia? Humans and permenant ink?"
She blushed furiously, which floored him. He was certainly not used to this much dislike from Bihalia directed towards him. "Will, this is my mum's brother. Elijah, my new hobby as you so tactlessly dubbed him, is my boyfriend Will Solace. Not that it's any of your bloody business."
Looking at the boy, Will, for the first time since his arrival Elijah supposed he understood the girl being taken with him. His physique was impressive, and with those baby blues and the blond shag. Yes, he could see Will Solace. being popular in female crowds. And yet somehow Elijah could not help but feel that he was incredibly plain for her. Bihalia was not known for being attracted to plain men, which meant there was something more to him. "I won't apologize for expressing my concern for you, Halia, but if you insist I will be strictly bussiness like with you. I need to speak with you, so if you could kindly wrap things up and meet me at the old mansion before the day is out. Unless, of course, you've forgotten the way- in which case you could accompany me right away."
She ignored his pointed look, and returned a glare of her own to match it. "I can get there on my own, thanks. I'll see you later. Will, let's get out of here." Paying the suited man no further attention, she grabbed her beffudled boyfriend by the wrist and whisked him away, leaving Elijah to wonder when his family had reached this new low.
Elena Gilbert. Born 1992.
Birth mother Isobel Saltzman nee Fleming.
Adopted daughter of Grayson and Miranda Gilbert.
Adopted. The bloody fucking doppelganger was adopted. Of course something about her would have to trigger Patricia's pity.
The world just wouldn't make sense if everything she did didn't make her feel somewhat guilty.
Patricia was no fool. She knew exactly what Elijah thought of her. What Finn had told her countless times. She knew that no matter how guilty she felt, they'd never comprehend it. Her brothers believed she was incapable of remorse. Of sympathy.
Guiltless monster.
The downfall of the great.
An abomination.
Patricia had made peace with her nature long ago. She loved who she was, and by no means did she hate being immortal.
But being hated by her family was not something she would ever grow accustomed to.
Elijah and Finn hated her for her murderous tendencies and her manipulative streak. She knew that when her name came to their minds they saw nothing but blood and carnage and death.
Rebekah would forever hate her for having children. For having a man who (supposedly) loved her. It was all her little sister had ever wanted, and Patricia had it all.
Her mind wandered to Kol. Her beloved brother; her closest friend. Her dearest sibling who would never forgive her for retaining her magic, even in death. For years he'd chased magic; associating with the darkest forms of witchcraft in hopes to regain his powers. She thought of the late 19th century, right before she herself had put him down. She had never felt so horrified in all her life until she'd found her brother's hands holding a woman's kidney, her mangled body tossed aside. The mania in his eyes as he'd tried to siphon magic from it. The rest of their family had always dubbed Kol insane, but until that moment she had utterly disregarded their words. Until he screamed himself hoarse, accusing her of stealing his magic. Until she'd been forced to stab her brother in the chest with a silver dagger dipped in the ashes of the white oak tree.
Her siblings all thought her heartless by that point in time- she was sure. There was no chance in the world that they still thought her capable of compassion after all she'd done to them.
But Elena Gilbert was adopted. Like her. Unwanted by her birth parents- just as she had been. They were alike.
This wasn't Tatia who'd come between her husband and his beloved brother just to spite her. This wasn't selfish Katerina who valued herself above all others. This was a strange human girl, who had suffered loss, and seemingly held no threat to her family.
But she was the doppelganger. Until she was dead- whether the curse was broken or not- Klaus would never truly be hers. Her husband would never pay her any attention so long as he had a chance to break his curse.
But she couldn't kill her. Not after she'd made a promise to Elijah.
She cursed her brother once more in her mind, and proceeded to read more about the human girl.
Her grades. Her relationships. Everything that her brother had found- she would find more. His every accomplishment; she would surpass. How else was she to prove to him the value of her family? The value of her promise? A thousand years and still he did not know. She needed to surpass herself, and prove to him exactly why she was the greatest of them all. The finest of the Mikaelson family. A goddess among mortals. A queen.
New Orleans, 1869
"This is my promise to you, after centuries. I have broken our vows, my love, time and time again; and with the grace of royalty you have forgiven me."
Patricia looked into the mesmerizing blue eyes of her husband. Her love; who after 900 years had gotten down on his knees, and asked to marry her properly. Not arranged, as their previous marriage had been. Of his own free will. The man she loved so dearly finally loved her back, and in spite of her cold demeanor, she was full of joy. Radiant as any bride would be.
"I promise to you, Patricia Mikaelson, that I will cherish you for as long as my immortal days last, which is to say forever. I will have you beholden to like a queen, and I shall raise you as one in the eyes of the people in this city we have built. I will care for you like no other, and protect you above all." His calloused thumb brushed across her delicate hand, and he slid a ring onto her finger. "My promise to you is an eternal love like no other, Patricia. To have you, and to hold you, and to care for you more than I do for myself. To give you the life I should have given you when we first took our vows. I love you, and I promise to tell you and remind you of it every day for the rest of our lives."
His words had her blushing. An artist without a canvas, that was Niklaus. Forever would not suffice with this man, she had known it for centuries.
"I'm afraid my promise to you is far less poetic, Niklaus." She said, brushing her hair away with a smile. There was no minister to officiate their ceremony. This was their love. She felt no need to confess it in front of anyone but her husband. They stood in the courtyard of their home, in New Orleans. Facing the majestic crest of their family, a bushel of roses behind them. So unlike their first union, in front of the entire village. This was just them. Patricia and Niklaus, confessing their love in their home. Redefining home- together.
"Well I never expected my talent from your lips, love." He joked, and she nudged him playfully.
"I can only promise the love I have held for you for all these years. I need not promise to cherish you, for every minute with you is dearer to me than anything I've ever owned. I have you without promise, you've always been mine." A crooked smile graced his lips, the only confirmation needed for her statement. "I can promise you love, and that I will stand by your side forever. I can promise you that I am nothing without you, and that if you ever die I am dead with you. I need not promise you anything else, I am yours. I love you. Always and forever, Niklaus." She slipped a ring onto his finger, her golden eyes never leaving his blue ones.
"Always and forever." He whispered back, before sealing their lips together in a sweet kiss. He pulled away just as quickly as he'd started. "That was quite poetic enough, love. I've rubbed off on you somewhere along the way."
"Shut up you bloody arsehole. Just shut up and kiss me."
"As you wish, my queen."
Opening the door to greet Klaus was generally not a source of enjoyment, as far as Elijah was concerned. Opening it to greet his brother- when he was expecting the daughter of said man- was even less gratifying.
"Hello brother." The hybrid said, smiling widely at the stunned expression on his brothers face. "Expecting someone else? Like my daughter perhaps?"
Elijah cursed his features for being so treatcherous as his eyebrow ross once more. Since when had he grown so transparent? "What doo you want with Bihalia?"
The smile vanished from Klaus' face, replaced with the beginings of a vicious snarl. "For future reference, what I want with my children is no concern of yours, brother. But if you must know, I've nothing to hide. I plan to remove the dagger from Patricia very soon, and I want them with me. She hasn't seen them in a century. It will make her happy."
Not even for a moment did Elijah consider telling his younger brother that his wife was wide awake. He knew Niklaus' rage. He knew his brother, and a dagger in his own heart was not high on his weekly 'to do' list. He had plans. "Have you ever stopped to consider that Patricia may be happier if you were to treat her better?"
"If you have something to say to me, Elijah, you'd better bloody well get on with it."
The older of the two hesitated for a moment. Perhaps patronizing his little brother had not been the smartest course of action either, but what was done was already done. A twinge of annoyance festered in his chest. So what if it wasn't smart? Klaus treated Patricia as though she were nothing but a casual fling he'd pick up and toss whenever he pleased. As an older brother- both Niklaus' and Patricia's- was it not his duty to protect his sister, and steer his brother on the right path? He'd filled a fatherly role to his siblings due to Mikael's neglect. Did he not owe it to the both of them to speak up? "She's your wife, Niklaus," He said cautiously, attempting to form a proper sentence in his mind without insulting his anger prone brother. "And what happens between you may not be any of my business; but she is my sister. And as an older brother I am bound to inform you that I am not entirely comfortable with the way you treat my sister, and had you been anyone else you would not have lived past your first affair."
"For your sake I hope you are not saying what I think you are."
"If a man were to treat Rebekah thus, he would not have lived to see the light of the next day. Justly so."
"Rebekah doesn't know how to take care of herself. She needs to be protected."
"And Patricia is so blindly in love with you that arguably she needs protection as well." The betrayal and anger on Klaus' face were as fierce as Elijah had ever seen them. "You love her, Niklaus, there is not a doubt in my mind that you do. But the daggers, and the strumpets, and the never ending search for moonstones and doppelgangers and such are not the way to show your wife that you love her. What I am saying is that one day she may grow tired of your infidelity, and leave you."
Klaus' blue eyes searched his older brother's face, and Elijah waited silently for his response. His brother's cold blue eyes were softer than usual, even hurt. For the first time he noted the dark bags beneath the familiar blue orbs, and the redness of his beloved brother's eyes. It made him wonder how long it had been since his brother had slept. As vampires they required less rest than humans, but eventually even they stopped functioning from lack of sleep. The expression "sleeping like the dead" had originated from somewhere, after all. But he musn't dwell on that, he reprimanded himself. Niklaus had scattered their family in the depths of the ocean. He was not deserving of brotherly concern.
"Well as you said, brother; what happens between me and my wife is none of your business. Now back to the matter at hand, I'm going to ask you once where the bloody hell my daughter is- and if you don't answer me I'll kill the help."
Elijah sighed in defeat. Further pressing the issue would not be wise. He seemed to be having problems exhibiting boundaries lately, first with Patricia, then Bihalia. Niklaus' boundaries were the last ones he wanted to test at that particular point in time. "Last I saw her she was in the park. Consorting with a human boy, if you can belive it."
Klaus scowled. It seemed to Elijah that his brother was torn between wanting to gruel him for the details- and simply finding his daughter in order to leave the mansion as soon as possible. "And when exactly did you see her?"
"No more than a couple of hours ago. We arranged that she would meet me here when she was done." No sooner had he spoke those words, a loud knock rang throughout the room. "Impeccable timing."
But even as he approached the door, he couldn't help but wonder why she'd knocked. Swinging opeen the door, Elijah found himself at a loss for words and air alike. The eyes boring into his on were the exact image of his sister's magnificent golden orbs. But these... Colder. Far emptier. Far more powerful. The scar running the length of this mystery man's face added a particular edge to his already rough demeanor.
Rushing up behind him was Bihalia, a cold sneer across her features. "I thought I told you to wait." She snapped. "This is Luke. He's Will's cousin."
"Will? That would be your boy toy, yes?" Elijah could only shake his head at his brother's antics. There was a time for everything, and Niklaus seemed to be missing the fact that this was truly not the time to reprimand his daughter for her dating life. The youngest Mikaelson recovered quickly from the shock of seeing her father, and shot him a withering glare. "I don't know how it's possible, but he says he knows mum, and he's not lying."
"Impossible." Elijah breathed, searching the young man's face for a tell tale sign of manipulation.
"Come in, will you?" Klaus said, his stance protective and defenssive. The repeated mention of his wife's relation to this stranger had him on edge. "This had better be good."
The man named Luke gave a cold smile, and once again betrayed by his body, Elijah felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand.
