She had never expected memory lane to be an actual lane.
It stretched before her in organized disarray. One house bled into another. A demented collage of architecture slapped together at the seams. Spaces between were only visible when she got close to the edge of one structure.
By twenty-first century standards the nearest building could only be described as a hovel. The type of place one would expect to find starving children and miserable parents, if there were any.
Yet when her hands pressed flat to the weather-worn door her senses were overturned. Through the cracks drifted onion and pork, and a sense of warmth so strong her knees trembled.
She looked to her left, drifting her eyes over stone and flying buttresses. A pagoda's curve peeked out behind a gorgeous villa, partially obscuring a Roman Basilica behind. Countless buildings could have resided in between.
But she wasn't getting an overwhelming feeling of love from any of them without physical contact. and it was always best to learn things in chronological order.
She pushed open the door, stepped inside and shrank, vanishing behind an armload of tree limbs.
"Put that away and go help your cousin with the bread."
She dropped to action at the sound of the brisk voice. dumping the firewood in its place by the hearth.
"And wash your hands first!"
"Yes, äiti," she sighed, scrubbing at her pitch stained hands. Her mother was harsh when winter approached, but loved her very much.
"Come, little cousin."
She climbed up on the stool Tatia nudged out, kneeling on the seat.
"You have to practice your kneading," Tatia teased, "yesterday your bread was flat and dense."
"My hands are too little." She caught a glimpse of tiny fingers and wondered how she could have possibly carried the firewood alone. Based on her apparent height she estimated her age to be close to six or seven.
"They are little, but mighty." Large hands lifted her arms so her father could inspect her slim fingers. "There is nothing these hands can't do."
"Except stay clean, Ingvar," her mother sighed.
"They were clean until isi grabbed them," she protested, pouting.
"Wash your hands Ingvar. Your daughter follows your example; soon you'll have her digging through herbs."
He bent close and winked, whispering: "I wasn't digging for herbs."
She giggled in delight when he placed a small orange fruit in hews and Tatia's palms.
"You're going to have those two spoiled."
"Do not fret, my darling Brigitte," he swept her into a tight hug.
Her mother's somber expression gave way to laughter as she tried to wriggle away from his filthy tunic.
She bit down and licked sweet juice from her lips.
"Finish that and I'll show you draw to knead," Tatia giggled. "Its all in the wrist."
Her voice turned masculine on the end. She found herself clinging to the top rail of the pig fence, feet on the bottom.
Loki nudged at her ankles, but she paid him no mind. Her eyes were focused on the brothers as a young Elijah instructed a boy her age on how to wield the wooden sword in his hand.
He rolled his wrist like Tatia.
She watched for a few minutes, laughing quietly when he knocked the sword from his little brother's hand.
Her fingers twitched.
"Can I try?" She rocked forward to tap Elijah's shoulder.
He jumped, spinning to look at her. The fence put her just below his chin.
"Father says weapons aren't for girls," he frowned, breathing hard.
"Mikael's not my father." she held her chin up. "My isi says a girl should know how to defend herself."
He persisted in protesting.
"You could get hurt."
"It's only wood, 'Lijah."
"Kol, Ingvar will be furious if his only daughter limps home covered in bruises." He sighed, pushing his bangs from his face.
"But if I send you home covered in bruises isi will still be laughing at Yule." She smiled sweetly.
"That sounds like a challenge." Kol's eyes lit up. He waved his hand, sending Elijah's dropped sword towards her small palm.
She dropped between the rail of the fence before Elijah could grab it back and swung, catching the matching blade Kol rose in defence.
Then she was sitting on a stool outside her home. In the fading light of the weak winter sun she found Kol's eyes, bright behind a blossoming bruise: one of four she landed on him.
"What were you thinking?" Her chin turned up, guided by the roughened hands of her mother. "You'll hardly be able to move tomorrow."
"It doesn't hurt, äiti."
"Lift your arm."
She lifted her arm, wincing before she got to elbow height.
"I gave her the sword, Brigitte," Kol piped up.
"I don't need you to defend me," she stuck out her tongue.
"Clearly," her mother fought down a grin. She turned to Kol and lifted his chin to prod at the dark spot across his cheek. "She gave as good as she got."
"She's as feisty as her mother," her father chuckled. He knelt between her and Kol and spread a thick yellow paste across his cheek. "Be mindful of handing her blades in the future, boy. If I know my wife the next time my daughter holds a sword she'll know how to wield it."
"Äiti?" She blinked up at her mother.
"Your dear mother was a fearless shield maiden," he winked over his shoulder.
"Ingvar!" She scolded.
"Is," he corrected. He turned his attention back to Kol. "You might do better to practice magic with her over swordplay."
"Next time you'll be black and blue all over," she grinned.
"Do we have to?" He sighed. "I don't really like swords."
"Then why were you practicing?" She tilted her head.
"Father said it was time to learn."
"Best not tell Mikael you were beaten by a girl, then," her father chuckled.
She swung her legs back and forth, and thought. He was fun, and he had an infectious smile.
She tapped her father's shoulder. "Can I show him your nature spell?"
He chuckled and finished covering Kol's bruise.
"Not tonight," he set his mortar on the ground. "The sun is all but gone."
"Tomorrow?" Kol bounced on the balls of his feet, excitement pouring from him in waves.
"After chores," he nodded. "Now hurry home before dark."
Time blurred. The colours of sunset dimmed until a new day emerged from the last, grey and dismal.
She sat, curled tight beneath the bare boughs of oak. Thick braids fell, deliberately cutting through wild curls on either side of her face so her hair obscured the soft pages and muffled each rustle of paper.
In their little corner of the world such treasures were rare. Nobody took the time to write, not with the process for ink and paper being too complicated; when his brother painted he painted on stone or wood.
That was their way. Their stories were spoken. Messages transcribed on available things.
History was memorized.
A book in such a place was both inconvenient and a treasure.
"Esther will be cross," she breathed, in utter awe of what he brought her. Her fingers trembled inside the warm gloves.
"That's why my mother will never find out." Kol grinned. "I must have it in place before she returns from her task with Ayana."
"She's so big," her eyes widened. In her mind she saw the great swell of her belly: another son. Rebekah would be sorely disappointed.
"She didn't go far," he nodded, eyes darting to his sister who kept watch. "We've only got time for one spell."
"Only one," she whined, clutching the precious treasure, "but there are so many! I want to try them all."
"Relax, darling," he grinned, "we'll get them eventually."
She giggled; he had picked up the name from her father.
"Why not just ask her for it?" She flipped pages.
"Mother and father both say there are more important things to do. I say thats unfair because Finn got to learn, but they don't care." His smile fell.
"What if I asked?" She blinked.
"They would figure out why fast," he shook his head. "Pick one already."
"This one," she pointed to the sanguimen knot.
"Thats advanced." His brows shot up.
"Scared Mikaelson?" Her grin lit up her face and he scoffed, eyes glittering with amusement.
"In your dreams Ingvarsdótter."
Somewhere around practicing the spell and accidentally unlatching the gate holding the pigs from freedom her brain registered that things weren't going to work at her current pace.
Piglets ran wild to the sound of their joined laughter. The village descended into chaos. At least until Mikael stormed into the mess and demanded to know who was responsible.
Kol paled. The breath flew out of her lungs in a painful rush. And across the clearing, holding a wriggling Loki, Nik saw their guilt ridden fares.
He passed the squirming piglet off to Elijah and called in a surprisingly steady voice when Mikael turned in their direction.
"It was my fault, father. I neglected the knots."
Then Mikael spun on him. She gripped Rebekah's small hand and Kol's arm. She slammed her eyes shut as she longed to slam the door.
Her knees hit the ground. She opened her eyes to memory lane. The flow of image and colour ceased, but the knowledge remained along with a flood of information that she ran through like cliff notes.
Klaus - she mentally caught herself from calling him Nik, but only just - had taken the blame for their mischief.
He had stepped in Micheal's path many times for them, for Rebekah, and for Henrik.
She saw for an instant a collage of injuries she treated with her father's remedies, and struggled to view the man she had once known with the hybrid who had made it his personal mission to ruin her life.
Finn knew.
Did Klaus? Had he suspected when he drained the life out of her? Would he have acted differently if he knew?
Tears stung her eyes. She blinked them back with a gasp and forced herself to think of something else: her easy friendship with Rebekah, and the way Kol had reacted when a man named Erik declared his intention to court her.
A jealous Kol had been ridiculously attractive. She had demanded to know his problem. It had been the worst fight they'd had until then, and when she told him to just speak his mind he had kissed her hard under the white oak tree. The next day saw their engagement sealed.
The memory brought a short smile that faded when she saw the long path ahead.
Caroline stumbled into the mansion on wobbling feet through an already open door. Her hand shot out to catch the frame as her knees gave way. She wondered how pissed Klaus was gonna be when he found the dead hybrid outside at the edge of his property; hopefully not much, at least not before he healed the bite the little bitch gave her.
"Klaus!" She shouted, despising the desperation in her voice. She clamped a hand to her shoulder, hissing. The skin felt hot beneath her touch; it contrasted with the chills wracking her body.
She thought she could spend the rest of eternity never experiencing werewolf toxin again and not die a happy not person.
Of course with hybrids in the world she couldn't spend full moons inside and be completely safe. It would be a good idea to know where Klaus was at all times, just in case of emergency; not because his damn dimpled smirk made her stomach flutter, and not because the last time she saw him he looked at her not like she had hung the moon but like she was the freaking moon.
No; knowing where he resided would be a safety precaution only.
Her safety net appeared, summoned by her cry. And there was that freaking look again, but it only lasted for a second because when he saw what was wrong he moved in a blur.
Then she felt his stupidly warm arms around her, making her feel ten shades of safe and uncomfortable all at once. She accepted the bleeding wrist, unable to keep herself from drinking deeply. All of her concentration focused in on not moaning like his blood were the most decadent chocolate.
Something told her he didn't need the ego boost.
"What's all this? Has Nik finally learned to care for someone other than himself?"
Caroline inhaled through her nose. She leaned into his hold as she looked up through her lashes to spy Kol.
Behind her Klaus stiffened.
Kol smirked: the look complete malice and glittering eyes.
She got the sudden sense he wouldn't mind killing her just to cause Klaus pain. And she happened to like living, was even starting to look forward to the thousand more birthdays Klaus had mentioned, so she straightened her spine while rolling her eyes.
"Unlikely."
Kol didn't look like he believed her for a second, which was fair. He did know his brother better than she did, and Klaus rushing to save anyone's life raised red flags. She could practically hear the blink of a neon arrow above her head proclaiming for the world - or at least his brother - to see his blatant feelings.
"You're Elena's friend?" Kol tilted his head, recognition filling his eyes. "Caroline?"
And that, she knew without a doubt, was her saving grace.
"Yeah, and I… she needs your help." She brushed a dead leaf from her shoulder and watched as it crumbled against the spotless marble floor.
"What would Elena possibly need from Kol?" Klaus' eyes narrowed and darted from her to his little brother.
"You really shouldn't worry about that," Caroline deflected, rocking back on her heels as the Elijah and Rebekah appeared on the grand staircase. Elena had said to tell Kol, she did not say to tell the rest of his… her?… family. "You've got a bigger problem."
"And I suppose you've come to tell us this out of the goodness of your heart?" Rebekah smiled sweetly, failing to mask the full persona of a coiled serpent.
"I came to tell you because mommy dearest wants to kill you all and eradicate the plague she unleashed on the earth," she cringed, quoting the word Bonnie had relayed after Elena fell 'asleep'.
"Our mother wants to kill us?" Elijah's eyes narrowed even as his sister scoffed. Unlike her he had no trouble believing it.
"If that were true," Rebekah tone suggested it wasn't, "then why would you tell us? I should think you and your little gang of friends would be happy to see us go."
Caroline wiped her thumb across her bloody watch to check the time, tallying the moments before the moon fully reached it's apex. She had no choice but to waste an extra moment, and she acknowledged that with a deep sigh.
"One thing I've learned since all of you came to town is that you're really careful with your words. Like super careful. It seems like a safe bet that your mother is that same way, and the exact words she used were eradicate the plague. Last I checked five casualties didn't make up a plague because plagues are highly contagious. I happen to have it, and I also happen to like living," she glanced down at herself, holding out her hands, "or not living as the case is. I don't really want my eternity cut short at eighteen."
"You think our mother is trying to kill not only us, but every vampire we've ever sired and so on?" Rebekah moved down the stairs. It made a sick sort of sense, and she didn't like it.
"And you worked this out from plague?" Elijah looked her over.
"Why does everyone always think I'm a dumb blonde?" She shook her head and scoffed. "Seriously? My freaking GPA is 4.0. I am not stupid."
"I apologize Miss Forbes," Elijah's brows rose in surprise. "I did not mean to imply that you were, but in order for mother to do something of that magnitude she would have to kill us all at once, and as we are not one entity killing us all at once is impossible."
"Elena ran out of here last night because your mother wanted something from her and she wasn't willing to give it. My money's on blood, and that with it she could make slaughtering you all at once a possibility."
She had expected their eyes to move on Elijah for confirmation. As the eldest, at least in attendance, he would have been the one to look too, but the Originals turned the gaze towards Kol.
The reigning authority on magic.
Had he been a witch like Elena?
"With the blood of a doppelgänger it's possible," he frowned. "Tatia's blood turned us, making it a part of us and every vampire. Mother could link us as one with a single drop, and she would only have to kill one of us."
"So the doppelbitch…"
"Elena!" Kol interjected, cutting Rebekah off.
She sucked in a deep breath, but conceded. "Elena, gave mother her blood."
"No, Klaus must have had some on hand," Caroline snapped, jumping to the defence of her friend.
"A single vial, but it's sealed away in my…" Klaus trailed off, eyes going wide.
"Based on that look, it's in a place you found your mother tonight and probably all shared a drink." Her eyes flickered to Kol's wrist, dark with bloodstains. Elijah and Rebekah bore similar marks on once pristine sleeves. "I think you already worked out that you're linked."
The siblings exchanged a long look before Klaus broke the rising tension.
"Where is our mother Caroline?"
"She's gotta channel Bonnie's bloodline and to do that she needs to be close, so I'd say the old witch house." She rattled off the address, but held out her hand to stop Kol before he could follow his siblings out the door.
"Not you."
"My mother wants to kill me," he glanced down at her palm on his chest. Amusement undercut the urgency in his tone.
She pulled a folded paper from her pocket, bloodier than it had been when she left Elena's house.
"Finn dropped this off tonight." She watched him unfold it hesitantly, curiosity lighting his eyes. "He placed it, and a bracelet, in Elena's hands."
His jaw slackened as he read the spell.
She swallowed and crossed her arms. "It started with dreams…"
He cut her off before she could properly begin.
"Do you expect me to believe what you're implying?" His dangerous tone paled in comparison to the hope shining in his eyes.
She took a deep breath and nodded.
"I think you already believe it, but if it helps she did tell me about one of the dreams involving you and a castle and some douchebag named Lord Tristan who tried to undress her with his eyes."
He grabbed her arm before she finished talking, steering her towards the door.
She couldn't get out.
It wasn't like slamming the door on a batch of memory. She could throw herself bodily from any house, but she couldn't wake up.
It had to be Esther's doing. Something in the spell kept her trapped.
Which told her that the Original Witch Bitch feared her involvement in whatever she had planned for her family.
So she pushed open door after door, refusing to step inside after learning the memories seeped in faster when she opened them and stayed in the safety of the lane.
There was only one memory she wanted to relive, and she could see the door leading to it. It just kept disappearing whenever she got close. It jumped around between the earliest buildings she had once called home, forcing her to run back and forth to catch it.
Once her hand brushed the warped wood and the door literally jumped, finding a new home out of reach on the roof.
She stomped her foot and swore.
"That's hardly language appropriate for a lady, but given your true origins I suppose it's fitting."
Her heart hammered at the sound of another voice in what should have been complete solitude. She spun round on her heel, arms going slack at her side.
"K-Kol?" Her mouth hung open.
His feet made no sound as he approached, but then, they never had.
"You're friend came for me, your…" he tilted his head, "… brother invited me in, and your other friend helped me enter your mind."
His hand came up before he rethought the action and lowered his arm.
"Were you going to tell me?"
"Would you have believed me?" She countered. "Dreams about people I'd never met… reincarnation… doesn't exactly scream normal or 'trust me'."
"And now?" He cocked an eyebrow.
"Honestly?" She licked her lips and sighed, looking down for a moment. "I don't know. I've been too busy chasing the memory your mother doesn't want me to see to even think about what happens when I get out of here."
"She wants to kill us all."
"I know," she nodded. "Bonnie told me, but she couldn't do anything until she met me."
"All she needed was your blood," his hand twitched, rising as if to cup her cheek but pausing inches from her skin. "There were other ways to get it."
Horror filled her eyes.
"Not to worry, darling," his smirk felt hollow. "I've given Miss Bennett a spell that will stop her. At least temporarily; buying you time to catch that memory."
"I can't catch it," she looked over her shoulder.
He followed her gaze.
"Do you think your memory is faster than a vampire?"
He scooped her up before she could offer an answer and vaulted onto the hut's roof where he caught the door latch in one hand. Thick fog rolled up when he tore the door open.
Fear clenched her heart almost as tightly as she clenched his sleeve.
"Come with me?" She breathed, meeting his dark eyes.
A thousand years ago he asked her that question when Mikael forced them to flee. His reply echoed her own answer.
"Always."
