hi everyone! it's me again. am i on a roll or what?
i decided to get straight to the good bits, so sorry if it's all a little fast. also i ditched the numbers thing because i am numbers-challened and it was getting too tedious to count.
enjoy my unbeta'd chapter!
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what's the story, morning glory?
part quatre
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Time moves quickly in New York, and in no time the big day looms before them. The Big Day. Elena's wedding and her plight to become Mrs Nathaniel Archibald. The plan of attack that day had been simple enough:
Caroline to distract Nate.
Kol to flirt with Serena.
Chuck to replace the priest.
Damon to deal with Blair—
-to which he vehemently takes offense to, and demands to join Stefan.
Stefan, Klaus and Damon to contain Vanessa and her fucking documentary.
Rebekah to deal with Blaiir.
"You'll need to get handsy with that one," Damon insists.
If only they had known things weren't going to be so easy.
.
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But it was still morning and hope was still high. "Remember to be swift. In and out like a dagger," Klaus reminds grimly.
"In and out like a sharpened thief," Elijah agrees.
"In and out like a well-powered Rabbit," Damon add, cracking his knuckles.
"In and out like a – ew, Damon," Caroline cries.
"In and out like what Damon said, except it's vibrating at both ends," Chuck begins with gusto, but is interrupted by Kol, who says, "In and out like a fox."
"In and out like quick magic," Bonnie says, brandishing her fingers.
"In and Out like a depression meal," Stefan says wearily.
"What's In and Out?" Rebekah asks.
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But let's go back to the Sunday brunch with Upper East Siders.
Elena's in a dress that Nate insists makes her look beautiful, gorgeous, a ray of sunshine, an ethereal being, though in not so many words—most of them consisted of eyebrow bobbing and, "wow, you look—wow", but next to the Blairs and the Katis and the Serenas she feels very much like an Elena, straight out of Mystic Falls with nothing but a luggage full of secrets to her name. She feels underdressed, small even in the towering heels she'd somehow talked herself into wearing, and finds herself missing Nate's soft shirts very much.
"Ellen!" Blair, whom she'd been introduced to earlier, glides up to her smoothly, her Ruby Woo smile closing delicately around the rim of her champagne glass. Elena had already fished the strawberry out of her own glass, before realizing with a pang that she's the only one who's done so.
Who knew strawberries were the goddamn parsleys of champagne then?
"Elena," Elena corrects, fingers twiddling on the stem of her glass.
"Oh, my mistake," Blair laughs. "So tell me, how did you ever meet dear Nate?"
Dear Nate, who at the moment is entertaining Stefan and Damon amongst a group of leggy girls and khaki-clad boys by the vaulted window. Nate looks helplessly in their direction and Blair shoots him a very big, very showy, clearly sarcastic wink. More of a face scrunch, really, as Dan is noting secretly from a corner behind his own glass of champagne.
"Elka?" Blair prompts when she realises Elena has gotten distracted.
"Hm? Oh – um, we met at a party in Brooklyn—"
"Of course Brooklyn," Blair almost spits out.
"—things hit it off from there. We have some of the same classes, it turns out. Only I missed him because he never shows up for the morning classes, big surprise."
"Big surprise," Blair finds herself muttering along under her breath, as if despite herself.
They stare at each other for a bit.
Then Blair blinks, seemingly remembering who she is. "So, Elroy—"
A loud, shrill scream pitched into their ears. Someone drops their champagne glass. In the minimal chaos of the dignified Manhattanites, the server who'd been screaming clutches her hands to her head and runs out of the room.
"Surprise!"
Fucking Kol. Of course he'd be here. Of course he'd be dragging in a body with him. It looked… Elena gulped. She didn't dare say—
The girl sputters to life, clutching at her throat, at the red blood running in rivulets down her arms. The unease grows in the room… until she cracks up and joins in on Kol's raucous laughter.
"I brought the entertainment!" Kol says gleefully, twirling the very-not-dead girl around him. "Bianca will pretend to be your date to important functions where it's rather embarrassing to not have a date – forgive me, I do not know your American customs – and she'll throw in some real acting for an extra charge!"
A polite applause starts.
Everyone not from Mystic Falls laughs, cheers, greatest engagement party trick ever!
Everyone from Mystic Falls untense their shoulders and exchange an uneasy smile.
Their secret safe. For now.
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The next day, with everyone out of their dresses and tuxedoes, Nate finds himself in quite a predicament, which he isn't used to.
The predicament was breakfast.
He stares confusingly at the cabinets, which was usually stocked with his favourite breakfast stuff. Everything had been replaced with boxes and boxes of muesli.
"Chuck…" he asks, confusion growing. Chuck is sitting at his island counter, shoving the wet slop of oats, sultanas, nuts and milk into his mouth. "Where are my poptarts?"
"I threw them out," Chuck says.
Nate waits for an elaboration and doesn't get one. "Chuck, those were like six dollars—"
"Doesn't matter," Chuck says in the same tone as before. "Anyway, I met up with a man yesterday who claims to know Elena. Elijah Mikaelson. Heard of him?"
Nate watches as his best friend continues to shovel breakfast into his throat, and says, "Sounds familiar. I'll have to ask 'Lena."
Chuck mumbles his assent, mouth full as it is with muesli. When he finally swallows, he asks, "Have you found your priest yet?"
"Yep. He cancelled all his weddings that day to officiate."
"Good, good," Chuck nods. "Can you pass me more muesli?"
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Now we can go back to the wedding.
Upon walking into what looked weirdly like a team pep talk before a game, complete with a cheer made in unison, Alaric is very suspicious.
"I'm very suspicious," he hounds Damon as they all disperse like a flock of flamingos disturbed.
Damon waves him away like he smells of Subway. "Been drinking, buddy?"
"You're up to something. Or more like, Klaus is up to something. And for some reason none of you can see that," Alaric says lowly. There's a warning in his eyes. "If anything were to happen to Elena today, any strange happening, anything that even smells slightly off—"
Damon barks a laugh. "Ironic!"
"—I will shoot all of you through with my crossbow. All of you, all at once. In a line. I will curve my wrists in such a way that—"
"Woah, Alaric, easy on the threats—"
"—and the arrow pierces you through the heats, one by one, guided only by my will. And my vengeance. And my will."
Damon studies his friend. "Alaric, you and I both know that I of all people want Elena to be happy."
Alaric only grins. "Well, Damon. That makes you the most dangerous guest on the list, not Klaus."
"You sure about that?" Damon pleads on account of their friendship.
Alaric looks at Damon for a very, very long time through his narrowed eyes. Finally he says, trusting his gut, "Nah, it's definitely Klaus."
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"Right, testing—one, two…" Vanessa squints through her camera lens, getting a close-up of Klaus' face. "Klaus… Mikaelson, right?"
"Is this necessary?" Klaus frowns and bats the camera out of his face.
Vanessa grasps at it, looking scandalized. "Easy with the equipment! The speakers are very fragile. So how exactly do you know the groom…?"
Klaus growls inwardly, wanting very much to kill this insipid girl standing in his way with her nuisance of a camera, but he's promised Caroline he wouldn't abuse his vampiring advantages over these poor innocent people. But watching Vanessa wave her bulky camera wildly in Stefan's face, he cant help smirking.
Yes, poor, tired, privileged people.
When it looks like Klaus isn't going to answer anytime soon, Stefan speaks for the both of them: "We're actually, uh, friends of the bride. She doesn't know we're here," he explains quickly. Stepping closer, he rests a hand on her shoulder and stares straight into her dark eyes: "And we'd appreciate it if you didn't tell her."
Usually the compulsion would take right now, but all that's happening to Vanessa's eyes are that they flit to the camera's display, where a large view of Klaus' snarl can be seen in focus.
"It's a surprise," Damon adds, after a beat too long.
Vanessa frowns and shakes his hand off, narrowing her eyes. "All this seems really suspicious."
"Think of the drama, Vanessa," Kol swoops in out of nowhere. "Think bigger. Think Sundance."
They could've sworn then that Vanessa's eyes dance.
.
.
Nobody's plan seems to be working out for them, which is why they'd given up on their assigned tasks and just decided to join whoever's looked the easiest.
Case in point: Kol can't find Serena and deduces that his task was simply too complicated, and then decides to join Stefan, Damon and Klaus in containing Vanessa, because that was so much easier to do.
Rebekah has to go find backup to deal with Blair, and no one wants to know who she's talking furiously into the phone with.
Chuck is missing. Elijah has to drop his task to go find him.
All of this leaves Caroline irate, bent on completing her task. She's competitive, sue her.
Because Alaric in the hallway that separated Nate and Elena's dressing rooms, Caroline had to come up with plan B.
She spies the second-floor window as she's prowling the lush Austen-inspirted greenery of the estate Nate had obviously talked Elena into renting for the day.
After some grunting, Caroline finally makes it through the window. Nate frowns as she tumbles in: his fingers freeze on the tangled necktie around his collar. "What are you doing in my room?"
"Um, hi." Caroline straightens up and smoothes her curls down. "You don't know me - not yet, anyway, but I'm one of Elena's best friends ever." She gestures to her bridesmaid dress, waiting for him to put two and two together.
After several excruciating seconds—in which Caroline feels like exclaiming Seriously?—Nate, bless his heart, finally gets it. His eyebrows stop doing that thing when he's confused (so Elena had described) and he offers a disarming smile.
"Hey, I'm Nate Archibald." He offers a charming smile and a flourished hand and she shakes it, flustered by the formality. "Still don't know why you're here, though. Wait - is it Elena?"
She locks eyes with him and says quickly, "No, but you look tired. I think you should curl up somewhere and sleep for a very, very long time."
Nate blinks. "I…"
Smiling encouragingly, she opens the door of the walk-in-closet. "Go on, no one's judging."
"But I'm fine. You're the one who just climbed in through a window. Are you sure you're okay?" The frown on his face deepens, and Caroline curses Elena under her breath. Trust her best friend to take no chances on her wedding day—she wonders exactly how many people Elena has on vervain. She sweeps the room urgently, something to placate him, a distraction… something.
And then she spots the champagne bottle.
.
.
If she can get to it without him noticing—
So deep are her musings she hardly notices Nate walking towards her, an urgent look in his eyes. "Are you sure Elena's okay? Did she send for me or something? Is that the reason why you can't be seen walking into my room?"
Caroline waves off his worried look with a nonchalant hand, discreetly inching towards the foot of his bed, where the champagne bottle lay in a bucket of ice. "No, no, not at all. Just thought I'd get to know the future husband of my best friend!" she says brightly, backing away from him oh so slightly. "Considering the fact we've never met before, the trains just really moved along huh?"
"Yeah, about that - I'm really sorry." Nate turns back to the mirror and adjusts his bowtie. "I just… it felt right." He nods, more to himself than anything else, and adds a little ruefully: "Not like I'll ever find someone who's capable of loving me that much, anyway."
Caroline feels the rim of the bucket biting against the material of her dress. "Don't you think it's a little… I don't know, fast?" She wraps her hands firmly around the neck of the bottle, praying he doesn't turn around in the next twenty-five seconds. "Choo choo?"
"Ch-?..." Nate changes his mind. "Elena said something about… not wanting to wait any longer to start on the rest of her life?" Nate finally has the knot of his bowtie right. He turns back to Caroline. "Whatever that mea—"
He never quite finishes his sentence, because Caroline swings the bottle to his head with a sickening thunk. Nate crumples to the floor, his easy smile sliding off his face.
"Shit," Caroline curses lowly, and inspects the bottle for any blood or hair or bits of his tissue. Thankfully, she finds none, but her attention's diverted to Nate. "Shit, shit, shit—I'm so sorry."
The slow clapping coming from the corner of the room makes her freeze.
"Brava," Katherine, who's always liked when she nails a good entrance, smirks. "Nicely done."
.
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"Did Klaus call you?" Caroline grunts, rolling Nate over onto his back. Wait—was it safe to move him? Shit, she thinks again. I am so sorry, Elena.
"It was Rebekah," Katherine explains while inspecting her nails. She bores so easily. "They agreed to take turns whenever they needed to call in on a favour, and it looks like it's her turn this time."
Caroline waves the mess of an explanation away like it's a One Direction album. "Ok, whatevs, where's Klaus?"
"Preoccupied," Katherine replies easily, settling onto the corner of the master suite's bed and crossing her legs. "Something about replacing the priest with someone that Chuck character found online."
"I thought he was supposed to contain Vanessa, whatever the hell that means—"
Katherine grins. "Plans change, baby."
Caroline bites her lip. "I don't think it'll go as easily as we'd planned. Elena has everyone on vervai—"
The door bursts open to the clatter of heels and Madame Satan herself walks in, followed closely by a very cross-looking Rebekah Mikaelson.
"Nathaniel Fitzwilliam Archibald, are you having second th…" Blair's eyes narrow as she sees Caroline bent over Nate's still body, then flit to Katherine, still lounged oh-so-casually on the bed. "You. I knew there was something too…straight about you, and I'm not talking about your sorry excuse of a hairstyle."
Katherine frowns, inspecting the ends of her hair. "What's wrong with the conditioner I'm using?"
Blair doesn't bother with a reply as she's pushing Caroline aside, checking Nate's pulse. "What did you do to him?" she screeches, and rounds on Katherine. "I knew you were too good for Vera Wang."
Katherine peeks over Blair's shoulder at Caroline. "Did Elena curl her hair today or something?"
Caroline just nods wordlessly.
.
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Bringing herself to her full height, Blair unleashes the power of Manhattan she has rested on her shoulders upon Katherine. "My best friend Nate has an unfortunate liking towards charity cases like you. I forgave him for Juliet, but you? I have to say—at least she had knew her way to a hair salon."
She swaggers towards Katherine, that smirk still in place on her carefully made-up lips. "So you have sev options. Stay and explain this little predicament you've caused to the authorities, beg for Nate's forgiveness - which, despite his forgiving streak, I highly doubt you'll get - and pay off the entire wedding." She stops right in front of Katherine. "Or you can leave, and take your pathetic gaggle with you."
Caroline has to admit—she's mildly impressed by Blair's confidence, considering the Katherine's shooting daggers at her. Not to mention in her bridesmaids' dress, Blair looked resplendent, of coral lipstick and powder blue nails; like a delicate cupcake, really.
"You scheming, self-righteous skank," declares Katherine, who despises cupcakes. She grabs the bottle from Caroline's hands and smashes it against the wall, spraying champagne and bits of glass everywhere.
Blair jumps, her face paling considerably, and Katherine smirks at this. "Oh how the mighty have fallen," she sing songs, taking light, deliberate steps towards Blair. "I could compel you to make you forget…" her eyes linger to Nate's crumpled body on the ground, an egg-sized lump already starting to show on his forehead. "…but where's the fun in that?"
"Katherine—" Caroline starts, eyes widening at the way Katherine's swinging the bottle. The sharp, jagged edges glinted in the golden light coming from the chandelier. "Katherine, stop."
"I suggest you listen to her," Blair says, and despite her shaking fingers her voice is surprisingly steady. "Because I think you're forgetting who you're talking to."
Katherine narrows her eyes. "Oh, I think I know exactly—"
Stefan and Damon choose that exact moment to come barreling through the door, tripping over Nate's body and crashing right into Rebekah, who crashes into Katherine.
"Get—get off of me!" Katherine yells in frustration, trying to kick Rebekah off.
"Oh, I don't think so." Damon rolls off of Rebekah and pins Katherine to the floor whilst Rebekah brushes her hair out of her face, glaring at their less than graceful entrance. "What exactly were you planning, Katherine? Why are you here?"
"Rebekah called me," Katherine spits carelessly, like her legs aren't being held down by Stefan right now.
"Haven't you heard?" Blair stands over them, that shiny glint in her eyes again. Of course she's ignoring the scene before her to execute her thoroughly-rehearsed monologue: "I always knew there was something off about your smalltown rednecks. You think you can decide to go all crazy on this big day? I'm the crazy bitch around here. No one ruins the wedding of my best friend but me."
"For the love of God," Rebekah mutters in one exhale, and knocks her out with a flick of her forefinger.
For once, the smile on Katherine's face is completely sincere.
"Um, guys?" Caroline pipes up. In all the commotion, Nate had stirred, and had all but ran from the room. She'd been too busy scoring Rebekah's score of Blair an 8.5.
"Fuck!" Stefan yells, wishing he'd stuck to his own task.
.
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Just shy of the door that led to the sweet escape of the aisle, Nate runs into Klaus, and immediately squares up.
"Woah, mate," Klaus deflects Nate's fists like they're small flies. "Why the aggression?"
"Something seriously weird is going on," Nate hisses. His eyes are wide, but the lump on his forehead is wider. Klaus feels a twinge of pride. Caroline had done that?
"I just want to get married to the girl of my dreams, what the fuck?" Nate finishes his tirade, frustrated. Oh. The boy had been ranting; Klaus hadn't noticed because he was busy scoring Caroline's score of Nate a 10.5.
"Go ahead, then," Klaus nods his head at the door. "Elena's already waiting."
"She is?" Relief floods through Nate's eyes. "Wait – is she ok? How is she ok right now?"
It turns out, in the chaos of the planning, nobody had accounted for Elena.
When Klaus had lost the little deviant Vanessa, he had gone wondering to find her, and then stumbles into the hall in astonishment: Chuck and Elijah with a job-well-done smirk on their faces, a priest bound and gagged in a secret corner of the estate-attached church. Elena murmuring to Bonnie, no doubt asking why Nate hadn't honoured the itinerary.
Klaus raises his eyebrows at Bonnie, who shrugs. Nobody had tasked her with anything, so she'd just gone ahead with Elena's schedule.
And then he sees Vanessa.
Filming everything.
Klaus promptly decides that all of this is a lost cause, and he sure enjoys a good wedding, and steps aside to let Nate pass.
Nate regards him suspiciously. "Why?"
"I like to give peace a chance," Klaus shrugs. Nate purses his lips and nods once at him, before squaring his shoulders and waking through the doors that led him to his soon to be wife.
Klaus doesn't follow him in. He chooses to stay behind and wait for the real spectacle.
.
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Elena stares in delight as Nate all but runs down the aisle, already yelling out, "I do, I do!"
The crowd laughs, they think this has all been orchestrated.
All thought of vervain and her medding friends melts away from Elena's brain as she watches Nate climb the steps to finally, finally meet her.
She almost drops her bouquet with how fast she claps her hands over his, but it's okay –
The grip he has on her is the same.
"Don't worry, child of God," the priest smiles gently down at them. "We can begin all over again."
"Oh, thank you," both Elena and Nate thank profusely, and in their gratefulness somehow miss Chuck nearly leaning into Elijah to smother his guffaw.
"I will begin," begins the priest grandly, and spreads his arms—
-His robes look like they've given him wings. Nate and Elena take a subconscious half-step back.—
"…with a preach of a sermon to move your blind hearts into sight."
The crowd is moved, alright. Elijah leans into Chuck and mutters, "Let's hope for a long one."
"More like, let's hope doesn't eat muesli." Chuck looks at Elijah expectantly.
Elijah stared back, feeling like he's missing something here.
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"Made it!" Damon bursts out as his shoes skid down the polished marble floors of New York's version of Downton Abbey. If his heart were still beating, he knows it would be pounding at the speed of a baby gazelle getting trampled by a hyena at the faint sound of Dearly beloved, we are gathered here in the sight of God—
Klaus saunters in behind them, all raised eyebrows and smug smiles. "A bit too late, fellas."
Stefan grips his shoulder and they slow down—just a little—preferring to walk down the hall with their dignity intact, listening hard to the priest rambling on with, …which is an honourable estate, instituted of God, signifying unto us the mystical union that is betwixt Christ and his Church…
He jumps in shock. "Nate's already in?"
"Who was supposed to take care of Elena?" Damon demands, crazy eyes popping up for the 9th time that day.
"Didn't we get Bonnie to?"
"We sure as fuck didn't and that tricky witch didn't say a word! She's secretly team Nate!"
"Nobody is secretly team Nathaniel," Stefan reassures and corrects at the same time. "It's not over yet. A minor setback happened—"
"You," Damon snarls. "You let this happen."
"Right as rain," Klaus says agreeably.
They squabble their way down the hall, exchanging promises of murder and vengeance.
It's when they finally reach the huge double doors that Klaus presents the burning question: "Who's going to interrupt the wedding?"
"I'll do it," Stefan says firmly. "You're going to be all dramatic about it and start monologuing."
"As opposed to you, brother?" Damon hisses. "You're too practical—what bride is going to listen to you?"
"Oy vey," Klaus mutters savagely under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Can you two idiots make up your damn minds? We're short on time; the priest that Chuck character found online can only prattle on for so long."
Damon squares his shoulders, pulling himself to his full height. "Well then, there's only one way to solve this."
.
.
…to join together this Man and this Woman in holy Matrimony…
Stefan's jaw is set and there's sweat beading on his brows as he looks his brother in the eye, his legs bent slightly at the knees as though preparing to lunge. "Ready?"
Damon nods once, his eyes narrowed deliberately. "Born ready."
The two brothers circle each other, throwing cutting glares (Stefan) and muttered remarks (Damon). After a while, Klaus clears his throat pointedly (the priest is now pausing, making an offhand remark about the weather, before continuing with: …and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly; but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly, and in the fear of God…) and the two brothers throw their fists out at each other—
"Rock!" Damon exclaims, shaking his hand about.
As if it were possible, Stefan's frown deepens as he brandishes his own fist. "Rock!"
"That is so not a rock. That looks more like a goose head. Therefore, my rock can stone it to death." Damon proceeds to batter Stefan's hand with his fist.
.
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"But before we go on, my dear, that really is a lovely dress," the priest says, his kind eyes twinkling. There's a long pause before Elena responds with an, "Um. Thanks, but—"
"Does this usually take this long?" Nate interrupts. He's long past feeling grateful now. The pews are already humming with (some curious, others suspicious) chatter.
"Right," the priest drones, and claps his hands once. Immediately the hall falls silent. "Let us get to it. Eager to consummate your marriage to her, are you? Too crass? Apologies, dear son… Ahem! Do you, Nathanial Archibald—" he swoops his hand in Nate's direction and one of his voluminous sleeves manages to catch fire on the candles burning away at his side. "Whoops," the old priest says as the crowd gasps and cries out, and Elena, exasperated, rips off her veil to beat the flames out of him.
Nate slams his face into his hands.
.
.
"Do you, Nathaniel Archimedes Archibald—"
"Uh—that's not my middle name."
"It is not?"
"No, it is not. It's Fitzwilliam."
"I could have sworn that it was."
"Well, it's not. It's Fitzwi—"
"Not Archimedes?"
"No. Fitzwilliam."
"But it says so right here—"
"My name is Nathaniel Fitzwilliam Goddamn Archibald."
"Patience is a virtue, young man. Let us start over." He clears his throat. "Norman Freeman …"
.
.
"…in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, in happiness and in moments of unhappiness, when you disagree when she agrees, or when she agrees and you disagree, or when you two disagree but are too in love to say so, or when you two agree but are too angry to admit it—"
"Is this even in the—"
The priest snatches the Scripture readings away from Nate, whose eyes were looking pretty maddened by now. "Who is the priest here? I or you?"
"Nate, honey—"
"I think I could quit school and join a seminary and marry my goddamn myself, and it would still take less time than this!"
"Young man, I am afraid that is entirely impossible—and – and we do not use the Lord's name in vain!"
"I am in vain!" Nate brandishes his fists. "I am in vain to get married!"
Out in the pews, Chuck smothers his giggles into his silk handkerchief.
.
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"—for as long as you both shall live?" the priest asks. Even from behind the closed doors, the audible sigh of the audience can be heard. Whether it is in delight or exasperation though, Klaus cannot discern as he's too busy trying to figure out if this is seriously, seriously his life right now.
"That's fifty-two out of hundred, I'm pretty sure I won," Damon bleats, shoving his fist into Stefan's face.
Stefan catches it just in time, covering it with his. "We've been over this in '72. Paper. Covers. Rock."
"…Speak now, or forever hold your peace."
"To hell with this," Klaus snarls. He grabs a flute of champagne from a passing server, downs it in one go, and absolutely kicks apart the heavy double doors. "I object!"
The crowd gasps, and within the swell of gossip and outrage a lone figure leaps from the crowd—it's Alaric, brandishing his crossbow, exultant and triumphant. "Didn't I call it!?"
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tbc