You are the joy that dances in my breast
My secret love that's hidden from the rest
The miser's coin will sometimes leave the purse,
So you escape and give birth to my verse.
- Rumi, Secret Love
January 1860
Cloverville, Louisiana
"It is drizzling. You should head inside," her voice came from behind him and Elijah turned to look at Adelia holding an umbrella.
"I believe this is the most interesting thing to happen today," he replied as she walked towards him, taking the Original under the shade.
"I did catch a glimpse of Klaus storming off," she humoured as they started walking along the garden.
"I would not exactly commend him for his patience," his lips twitched when she glanced at him.
"Or people skills," added Adelia as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. He chuckled and heard the footsteps of a chaperone behind them. The witch smirked and nodded at her escort who immediately left them alone.
Elijah cleared his throat and smiled. "Should I expect this every time I am to speak to you?" He asked as they trudged beside the lake.
"Pain is gain, Mr. Mikaelson. Padre will brandish his rifle if he finds me alone with a gentleman without a chaperone."
"Then I suppose I am very fortunate to visit you in your father's absence," he looked at her and then at the umbrella. "Let me."
Free of holding the umbrella she answered, avoiding his gaze, "An immortal creature scared of a little bullet. Very courageous you are."
"I am more scared for your father," he replied and her brows furrowed in confusion, "of what I'd do to him if he dares to shoot me." Elijah chuckled seeing her face.
"You cannot say that for my father," she said with a sudden mirth in her eyes.
"That is a very brave thing to say to an Original," he reinstated with a smile, stepping closer to her.
"Am I to suddenly presume you do not think of me to be brave?" She asked him with a pout. "I am very brave, Mr. Mikaelson. I once visited the Arlington manor alone at night which is presumed to be haunted and came out alive!"
"I am glad you survived the night," he smirked and manoeuvred his hand so he was holding her wrist this time around, the sudden contact making her eyes go wide.
Elijah pulled Adelia closer as she softly collided into his chest. She looked down, clutching his lapel as his fingers tangled in her hair to pull out a dry leaf, bringing it to her vision. The witch chuckled nervously and pulled away.
"The lake is beautiful," he commented to break the silence as they walked along the wet path.
"It is certainly peaceful," Adelia said, crouching down on the steps to touch the water, creating ripples on the surface.
"What is peace to you, Miss Laurentis?" He asked, unsure of the answer himself. She looked up at him with a smile and patted the space beside her. The Original eyed the wet marble stair and hesitated.
"Coming home is peace, Mr. Mikaelson," she finally answered, looking out at the lake as he remained silent, turning his attention from the girl towards the lake ahead.
Elijah felt his heart flutter as the winter rain picked up around them. He sat down next to her holding the umbrella over them, when he stole another glance at Adelia's serene form and finally breathed.
Adelia stirred awake, not finding Elijah's presence beside her and turned around to confirm her suspicions.
Slipping on the shawl kept at the settee, she saw him standing on the bedroom balcony with a drink. Grabbing the whiskey tumbler from his hand, she kept it over the wooden ledge.
"You are awake," Elijah looked at her.
"You left the doors open," she wrapped the shawl tighter around her.
"I apologise," he said, kissing her palm softly.
"What is troubling you?" She caressed his face with her other hand.
"Are we making a mistake? By helping Klaus?" He voiced his suspicions.
"Why do you think so?"
"You know the consequences of breaking the curse. We can still get them back if he is eliminated," he admitted softly.
"Mm-Hmm. And?" She urged him to continue.
"It's easier. He won't be a threat to any of us then," said Elijah.
"You want to kill Klaus," she inferred.
"Maybe. Maybe not," he glanced at her to find her staring at nowhere.
"You won't be able to do it. He is your brother and you love him," Adelia told her husband.
"Then give me the motivation to carry it out," he requested her immediately.
"You know I won't," she informed him, looking in the eye. "He has wronged our family, but he has protected them too. It is his way and you are familiar with it, Elijah."
"I won't lie to assure you that I am not conflicted."
"I understand. We will negotiate their release and help him. You won't be able to live with yourself if you were to become the cause of his fall," she pecked him his lips.
"And if he disagrees?" He pulled away from her to caress her collarbone.
"We have the one thing that binds the curse. He will agree," she reassured while handing him the glass to drink. He took it from her and smiled. The pair enjoyed the silence when she returned his smile with one of her own.
"Thank you for coming," Stefan started.
"I didn't want to but my son made a case to hear you out," Jonas replied as he joined the vampire and Bonnie at the Mystic Grill at the request of Luka.
"Bonnie said that you wanted to talk," chimed the younger Martin as Stefan looked at Bonnie.
"Elijah and Adelia are gone. I'm sorry," Stefan said and Jonas started to get up, but the vampire grabbed his shoulder. "Hear me out. We can help you."
"You'd be a fool to think they have truly left," Jonas humoured.
"We know that Klaus has your daughter. I'm sorry about the way I had to get that information, but it's good that we know. We can all work together to get her back," Bonnie proposed, speaking for the first time since their arrival.
"How?" Luka asked curiously.
"We will get her back without your help. Elijah never breaks his word," the Martin patriarch told them.
"I suspect that you and Elijah had a plan to save Elena without killing Klaus. If he's alive then your daughter would never be free of him. With your involvement, he might try taking Luka too. Help us kill Klaus. You can trust us. I give you my word. We all do," the younger Salvatore stated, throwing the Martins into contemplation.
"But what if they can find the burial ground?" Luka ascertained his doubts.
"They won't. We tried Luka, for weeks," Jonas reassured his son.
"We don't have a backup plan, though, dad, and we need to be doing everything we can to save Greta."
"We will save her but Elijah is not the answer and neither is Stefan or his brother. Those people, they're our enemies. They need to be dealt with and they were right. If Klaus is alive then why would he let her go?"
"What are you going to do?" The young warlock asked his father.
"Anything to save Greta," the Martin patriarch determinedly said.
"Stefan's brother?" Luka asked the vampire after he opened the door.
"I want to talk to your daddy, kid," Damon said, nodding in confirmation when Jonas arrived.
"What is it?" The elder warlock asked with hostility.
"Invite me in? I have something that we can help each other with," the vampire replied, showing him the journal.
"I have no desire to help you. Luka, go to your room."
"Don't you want to get your daughter back?" The Salvatore questioned after the son left them alone.
"I am trusting Elijah on this," he lied.
"So you're not gonna help us?" Damon pursed his mouth.
"No."
"That makes you the enemy. I can't have any more on the growing list. Watch your back and your pathetic child's," he sneered.
The warlock's anger grew when the vampire in front of him threatened his son and started giving him aneurisms. "I've had enough of you creatures," he seethed with rage and started pulling out Damon's heart with his magic when Stefan arrived, horrified at the sight.
The younger Salvatore took a potted plant near his feet and shot it at the witch, breaking his concentration. Jonas fell down from the impact and looked at the two with disgust before flicking his wrist to snap their necks.
Luka emerged from his room, hearing the commotion when he saw his father in a hurry. "Dad?" He called out.
Jonas turned towards his son, "I will get your sister back. Stay inside," he instructed before stepping over the vampires and with a last glance at Luka, he left the apartment.
"Thank God," Bonnie said as soon as Stefan and Elena entered the house. She sighed in relief seeing her friend safe after the commotion at the Grill with the Martin patriarch. They all narrowly escaped and the warlock was nowhere to be found.
"It's not over yet," Elena sounded tired.
"What's going on?" Jeremy asked his sister.
"He'll explain," she motioned towards the vampire before going upstairs.
"When did you guys get home?" Stefan asked the occupants.
"A few minutes ago," the witch answered.
"Did you check the house?"
"And why would we check the house?" The Gilbert boy frowned when a few seconds later a thud echoed from upstairs. Stefan's eyes widened and he rushed towards it followed by Bonnie. They reached to find Damon standing over Jonas' body.
"You didn't have to kill him!" Bonnie exclaimed, moving towards the warlock's body.
"Yes, we did," the elder Salvatore pointed out. The witch went to close his eyes, but Jonas suddenly got up and grabbed her face making her scream. Stefan went into action and immediately snapped his neck when the lights overhead them started flickering.
"What's happening?" Stefan asked.
"When he grabbed me... he gave me my powers back and something else. Jonas wants me to kill Klaus," the Bennett witch mumbled.
"And did he include a how?" prodded Damon.
"Yes. He did."
"Papa witch is here. Where is the son?"
Luka sat horrified as the locator was working fine just moments earlier. He knew his father wouldn't cloak himself when the Bennett witch didn't have her powers anymore.
His eyes brimmed with tears when he could think of the only reason the spell failed. With hesitant fingers, he took out his phone from the pocket and dialled the person who had promised help.
The Original stood leaning against a pillar while his wife sat on the porch steps of an establishment overlooking numerous children playing around.
One of the children waved at them and Adelia waved back with a smile. Elijah fiddled with his daylight ring as his gaze moved to his wedding band to caress the engraved stones, a habit he had developed over the years.
He looked over to his wife to see her bumping noses with a baby on her lap and a smile overtook his face. Straightening his cuff-links, he sat beside his wife and looked at her in adoration as her laughter echoed around them.
"Is this young man winning your heart, dear? A threat to my position," he humoured, extending his handkerchief to Adelia who pecked his lips.
"This young man is too young to win my heart," she replied with a smirk, taking the offered piece to wipe the drool away from the baby's face. She turned the child in her lap to face Elijah and mumbled in a childlike voice, "I am a handsome lad, but I shall wait for two decades and then covet her heart."
Elijah rolled his eyes as his fingers caressed the child's rosy cheek lovingly. "I am rather old, aren't I?"
"Deliciously old and the type I personally prefer," she whispered in his ear.
"I am intrigued. Type is a rather broad term to exercise when you only ever had me," he smirked, taking in her dumbfounded expression and kissed the corner of her lips.
Adelia went to contradict his statement but sighed, accepting her defeat with a pout as the baby began to fuss in her arms when her phone rang loudly. She accepted the call and was immediately greeted by a distressed voice of the young Martin.
"Slow down Luka. Tell me everything," she requested, exchanging a glance with her husband. As the boy progressed with the happenings, the two vampires frowned and Elijah stood up and left with a nod, tapping away on his phone.
"Everything will be alright. Calm down. I promise we will help you," she told the hysterical boy.
"They killed dad," the boy informed her again as his voice quivered.
"Stay inside your apartment. Elijah is sending help and you will be relocated to somewhere safe until we arrive. Nothing will happen to you," she reassured the warlock.
After a few minutes, she ended the call with a sigh, her form radiating worry and concern when she noticed the baby in her arms now asleep. Adelia played with the soft tuft of hair on his head in awe when she heard footsteps coming towards her.
"The Salvatores are taking this too far," Elijah voiced his opinion with an edge.
"We should return Elijah," she suggested, looking up from the child.
"We shall. When the time is right," the Original walked towards her, helping her up when a voice stopped them.
"Mrs. Laurentis!" One of the workers of the Lumiere Foundation stopped in front of them. "The baby."
Adelia automatically clutched the baby closer to her chest, feeling her husband's arm stiffen around her. On a whim, she realised she had a child in her arms and floundered.
Elijah smiled tightly and answered instead, "Forgive us. We did not realise."
"It's alright, Mr. Laurentis," she extended her hand for him to shake.
"My wife tends to be rather forgetful at times," he kissed her knuckles, humouring the older woman as she turned red at the gesture.
Adelia broke out from her stupor and smiled, "He does a very bad job at keeping up with me, Sarah."
Elijah squeezed her waist lightly and she stepped forward to give her the sleeping baby. Her idle hands immediately started fidgeting with husband's cuffs once she stepped back.
"Spare the poor guy. He has too much on his plate with a multi-tasking wife," Sarah smiled at the never ageing couple she was seeing for the last thirty years since her employment.
The woman in her fifties, of course knew what they were, difficult not to notice how they never grew a gray hair but her employer Mrs. Laurentis was kind enough to inform her of that peculiarity before she signed the contract, something about honesty in the employer-employee relationship.
Elijah turned to Adelia, "Come." He extracted her hands from his cuffs, holding it tight within hers. Closing the car door for her after his wife sat inside, he looked at the men standing guard.
"You will be informed if there is any disturbance, Mr. Mikaelson," the man said and the Original nodded in appreciation before taking the driver's seat.
Starting the car, Elijah watched Adelia close her eyes as the sign of Lumiere Foundation became smaller in the rearview mirror with every passing second.
Adelia entered the living room and watched her husband go through her books. "A distraction much," she asked, eyeing her half-opened grimoire across from him.
"Not fruitful. I have patience, but circumstances test my limits," Elijah sighed.
She suddenly took a seat next to him facing the Original, legs under her. The witch offered her two closed fists to him. "Choose wisely," she said.
Having done it so many times, he once again chose her right fist with a smile. Elijah unfurled it to see a candy within, making him smile even more.
"They saved it for you," Adelia informed him and he kissed her forehead.
"I shall read them another story, one much better."
"And what do I get?" She tilted her head, a smile playing on her lips.
"A dinner made by yours truly. I am afraid I cannot keep up with my wife's expenses," the Original's lips twitched in amusement as he walked into the kitchen.
Adelia looked at him with a frown, "Your words are truly endearing. I shall remember them when you buy a custom-tailored suit next time."
Meanwhile, along the outskirts of Seattle, a man walked with a light spring to his steps towards a beautiful villa. Her favourite orchids and his favoured daisies in hand, with a wide grin on his lips he knocked on the door. Within a few seconds, the infamous Original was rewarded by the resplendent sight of her after decades and noted that she still hasn't changed.
With a cocky smile, he said, "Maeve, invite me in love."
Autumn, 1859
Cloverville, Louisiana
He wandered around the Charleston Ball exchanging pleasantries with the humans and sipping expensive wine in a town called Cloverville in central Louisiana, a carriage ride of fifteen hours from his city of New Orleans. He could see the influence of the town's riches in its ball and the people attending it.
A few days earlier some contrivance had reached his ears regarding a prophecy doing the rounds. He had immediately set out for the journey here to much disapproval to finish off those dimwits who had the audacity to stand against him. Now he had to blend with the local population to get hold of the fools.
While talking to the host, his sea green eyes caught a stunning girl dancing with the heir of the Charleston fortune. Her light olive skin was illuminated under the chandelier as a studded pin held up her brown curls to show off her slender swan-like neck. He couldn't deny her beauty when the emerald green gown molded to her body with every movement of the waltz, her posture showing finesse and titular upbringing.
This should be fun.
The orchestra stopped to pick up another piece and the woman left the ballroom. He decided to follow but was stopped by the host for another set of questions. When he looked back, she had already disappeared.
After an hour he caught a glimpse of her emerald green gown, a design so intricate at the edges that he would recognize it anywhere. Klaus followed the trail of the gown and found her standing next to a painting and walked to stand beside her.
"What do you see in this?" He curiously asked and she turned and gave him a once over before giving the painting her full attention.
"The painter must have been bored," she said and Klaus sighed in defeat at the insult on behalf of the artist-he was always very sensitive when it came to art.
"There is more to every painting, love."
"Of course there is. This artist was very bored and lazed around for several days. Do you see the horse's mouth? He gives the impression of being inebriated, but then do horses get drunk?" She ranted straightaway and narrowed her eyes at the poor four-legged creature. "We will never know and whatever chances we had, with this painting it has diminished to nothing. I sincerely wouldn't want to see a real horse blitzed if the painting horse looks so..." she looked at him, "you do understand what I am trying to convey, don't you?"
Klaus was left speechless, "I do not get it."
"Have you never partook in horse riding? Would you prefer your journey companion be drunk?" She asked with a pout.
"I am afraid no..." the Original shook his head in contemplation.
"Then how do you expect this in a painting?"
"You do not understand art," he sighed in resignation.
"You say as if you paint yourself," the girl furrowed her brows.
"I indeed do, love," he smiled genuinely.
"You do not look like an artist."
"How should an artist look?" The Original smirked.
"I have never encountered one but if he paints these pieces," she gestured towards the drunk horse, "he must be drunk himself, must have long hair-"
"For the flowing horse mane?" Klaus offered with an amused smile.
"You do understand art," she hummed in appreciation.
"I do," he stole a glance at her. "Do you?"
"You are insulting me now, Sir."
"In this case, a drunk horse," the Original chuckled.
The girl looked away, almost offended. "I was merely stating the art as it is."
"I have come across many critiques, but none have ever made an impression quite as impressive as the inebriated horse."
"Come find me after you, Sir, get hold of a real painting," her eyes glimmered in annoyance and offense as she went to walk away.
Klaus grabbed her wrist and she turned towards him. "Are you certain you aren't venturing to look for a drunk horse yourself?"
The girl scrunched her eyes and freed her wrist from his hold before hurrying out the room as the Original looked quite proud of himself, happy internally.
The night soon came to an end as it turned more and more depressing with every hour. As Klaus left the manor to get into the carriage, he collided with a soft body on his way.
His reflexes immediately steadying her, he looked over to see the same girl from earlier collecting some books from the ground. With a smile, he bent down and started helping her.
"I apologise," she gathered the books in her hand and got up.
"No worries, love. I am sure you were dreaming of a drunk horse," he took the heavy archive books from her hand as a form of courtesy and looked at her properly. She was quite young and her eyes so warm, they were certainly very inviting. But the way she was glaring at him earlier was surprising. Not everyone dared to do that these days.
A frown was set over her features for his earlier comment. "I was on my way to the carriage if it is not an inconvenience," she said, ignoring his teasing altogether.
"Not at all, Miss...?"
"I do not give my name to strangers, Mr...?"
An amused smile took over her face and he smirked. "Mr. Smith," he lied with a smile as they walked along the pathway to the entrance.
She immediately turned around to look at him. "Oh dear. I truly am very sorry for your wife's untimely demise." And like that the smile slid off the Original's face.
"She was a wonderful lady of forty summers, Mr. Smith. You must be grieving, but please accept my condolences. I heard she got taken away for her addiction to wine and cigars," she continued just as a scowl started to appear on his face. "Your daughter, my lord? Is she well?" Klaus' eyes widened as he cleared his throat but the girl was clearly waiting for an answer. "Your daughter, my lord? I do hope she is well?"
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"Did Mrs. Smith get inspired from the drunk horse herself?" The girl's serious expression turned to one of mockery as she stiffled her giggles.
He frowned in confusion when she started laughing as the realisation slowly hit him.
"What is there to laugh about?" The Original asked, annoyed at the turn of events. The girl then suddenly regarded him with cold eyes that distinctly reminded him of another authoritative figure in his life; Elijah.
"Sure you are, Mr. Smith," the girl paused, "or whatsoever alias you prefer," she replied sardonically with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Klaus stopped in his tracks but she continued walking away from him after taking her belongings from his hand. He looked on shocked, but then grinned and caught on to walk beside her. "How do you know?" He asked curiously.
"There is only one Smith present in this town, a 50-year-old man. His estranged grandson passed away three years prior. I would remember him since he tried courting me," she answered with a grimace. "And I did get to read the guest list." the girl pointed out.
"You played me," he realised grimly. The girl had read him at first glance.
"I did and for that, I sincerely apologise, Sir. It was very polite of you to help me though I did not appreciate your humour," she said and looked at him once more. "It was a pleasure meeting you," she added before walking towards the carriage.
"Klaus," he said and she turned back to look at him expectantly, "Klaus, my name and not an alias." She nodded and continued walking away from him. "You did not give me your name, love," he called out when the driver opened the carriage door.
"I prefer not giving my name to strangers but for an alias, you can call me Maeve," she finished with a charming smile before boarding the carriage as the horses dragged it away.
"Maeve," he muttered to himself. It had been a while since an exquisite beauty had fascinated him this much. It was disappointing though that he no longer had any business in this town as pursuing the girl would have been interesting. "Maeve," he said again as a smile took over his face.
A/N: Klaus meets Maeve? The inebriated horse deserved better. *sighs*