A/N- So someone asked me this question and I had to spend an embarrassingly long time thinking about it but Katherine is 22, she was born in 1992, and Elijah is 27.
Flashback
Elijah held his breath, every part of him tense as the car drew smoothly closer and closer to the National Gallery.
Beside him, King Mikael was growling under his breath and he glanced to the front of the car where Ansel was sitting in the passenger seat.
But how could that man stop his father's fists when they were in a public setting?
He couldn't.
Elijah's arm already ached.
And in that moment, the darkest part of himself wished that his siblings were with him, to draw away his father's ire, or even his mother.
But Niklaus was grounded, the rest of them were too young to go out on a school night and his mother was in the Netherlands attending a conference.
He was the only one available to attend and he couldn't bow out because his absence would be noticed.
The car draws to a stop and he exhales the tiniest sigh of relief when he hears the cheering crowds.
The love of the people had always soothed the king.
He fixes a smile on his face and follows him out of the car, waving to the crowds but making sure not to be more exuberant than the King or to draw too much attention away from his father.
His neck still ached from the last time he'd committed such a crime.
Before them, at the top of the stairs, is the heading in bright blood-red letters, exclaiming to everyone the exhibition that they had been forced to attend.
The humiliation they had been forced to endure on opening night.
Royals lost to Revolution
This had been a power play by the Minister for Cultural Affairs, an attempt to show the monarchy who truly held the power in the kingdom. Unfortunately for the poor minister, it was the King who held the power, who held the lives of his noblemen in his hands. Therefore, Elijah expected that the only thing being lost tonight was the man's position in Valhalla and possibly his wealth.
The grand doors sweep open before them and inside the crowd of beautifully bedecked people gracefully part to make them a path. Their titles are announced and they proceed forward, Elijah careful to stay three steps behind the King, who keeps a sharp eye on him as the highest echelons of society bow before them, murmuring their greetings as they move past.
King Mikael is allowed to give them his hand and make conversation but Elijah has been ordered to keep it to polite but distanced smiles and nods.
So he fixes his eyes above their right shoulders, essentially ignoring them until he's snapped out of his trance by a familiar face.
He's surprised that she's here on a school night, with her little sister in tow but she has a cheeky smirk on her face and her eyes flicker up to meet his in defiance of tradition.
He finds his lips curling up in an answering smirk as he acknowledges her, his footsteps faltering, unable to make conversation but she shrugs, clearly understanding his predicament and not taking issue.
He moves on.
The King leads everyone into the first room of the exhibition where endless glasses of champagne and other drinks await them, he gives a toast as Elijah stands dutifully behind him, deliberately not letting his eyes flicker towards the buffet tables that are groaning under the weight of the delicious foodstuffs and desserts.
Katerina is lost in the crowd of tall men and women, and the moment that everyone has finished applauding the king, Elijah finds himself set upon by those in high society who wouldn't otherwise have the opportunity to speak with him. Businessmen, movie stars, directors, he greets them all politely and makes small talk, trying to ignore the awe struck look in their eyes.
In his jacket pocket, his phone buzzes.
Thankfully it goes unheard in the steady hum of conversation and he continues answering questions and making jokes that receive far more laughter than they deserved.
His phone buzzes again.
After a third time, he excuses himself and ducks behind a pillar, knowing that if he was caught on his device the king would be furious.
However, he's still smiling before he even unlocks the screen because he already knows who has been contacting him.
After the garden party, he had exchanged numbers with Katerina and two days later, found himself receiving bizarre, cutesy messages, jokes and riddles.
There was an innocence and fun to her texts that he didn't receive from his other friends, who mostly contacted him to invite him out to parties or women who sent him flirtatious photos or sexts.
'Is security guarding the exhibitions tonight or just you and your dad?'
'If you had to hide from security in this place, where would you do it?'
'Need your help, in the atrium with the fountains'
What on earth?
He catches the eye of one of Ansel's men and jerks his head, signaling that he needs a break. The man nods and comes over, pretending to whisper in his ear and then leading him over to the elevator hidden behind the grand staircase,
"Thank-you." Elijah murmurs, slipping inside and pressing the button for the sixth floor.
Wondering what Katerina could possibly be up to, he struggles to keep his expression calm as the elevator dings and the doors begin to slide open.
A hand reaches in to grab him and he reels back, reaching automatically into his pocket for his emergency button that would summon Ansel to his side.
"Found you, you little…"
The man attached to the pudgy hand is short, rotund and red faced, but upon realizing whom he had attempted to manhandle, he goes spectacularly pale,
"Your highness," he splutters, "Forgive me."
Allowing himself a moment to inhale and calm his racing heart, assuring himself that this was not an assassination attempt, Elijah straightens his jacket and adjusts his cuffs,
"When my family was invited here tonight, I was not aware that we would find ourselves in danger, perhaps you made the mistake of taking the revolutionary theme to heart?"
The man is flabbergasted and Elijah can see from the pin on his velvet jacket that he is the curator of the gallery,
"Forgive me, I thought…" he cleared his throat, "I was looking for someone else."
Muffled laughter reaches his ears but is nearly drowned out by the water splashing in the fountains.
Elijah steps out of the elevator and gestures to the doors, "Perhaps you could look for them downstairs? I came here for a moment of privacy."
The curator clearly doesn't wish to leave but he has no means of denying this request without breaching etiquette, so he lumbers into the elevator and tries not to look too dejected as the doors close.
The sixth floor atrium had a domed glass ceiling that showed what few stars were visible in the night sky. The only lights came from the fountains and his shoes clicked on the marble floor as he strode towards the columns at the far side of the room.
"Katerina?" he called softly, "You're safe now."
The laughter bounces across the room merrily and two girls emerge from the shadows.
One who looks very unhappy,
"I'm going downstairs," Elena tells her sister, "And I hope you got caught on the security camera."
She gives Elijah the quickest of curtseys and storms away with her nose in the air. He watches her with amusement and turns back with anticipation.
He's not disappointed.
"Were you wearing that an hour ago?" he asks jokingly as he takes in Katerina's new outfit.
She's adorned in a replica of Marie Antoinette's blue gown that she wore upon her arrival to Versailles, although sans head wear,
"This was in the costume section," she tries explaining around her giggles,
"Technically, I'm allowed to wear this."
"Ah," he smirks, "And was the costume section open when you tried on this outfit?"
Katerina glances at the floor guiltily, "Not exactly."
He laughs and makes a note to speak to Ansel about the security cameras. "Well," he gestures to the gown, "Was it worth it?"
She nods eagerly and spins with her arms held out and the skirts swishing around her ankles,
"I find Marie Antoinette fascinating," she confesses, "And beautiful and I've always loved her fashion sense."
She faces him again with a hint of breathlessness and there's an offer on the tip of his tongue but he manages to swallow it before he reaches for his phone,
"I'm afraid that I don't have pre-Revolutionary French music in my playlist, for some reason," he jokes and she laughs,
"But, if you're willing to endure a waltz?"
She nods eagerly and steps forward as the music begins to filter from his phone, he places one hand on her waist, taking the other and allowing himself a moment to note the height difference before he begins leading her across the floor.
The silver light casts her in an ethereal glow and when the music dies out, the only thing left is the splashing of the water and the sound of her rapid breathing as they glide under the blanket of night.
"This morning, the eyes of the world are turned towards Valhalla, where, in a few short hours, the coronation of King Elijah will take place in the capital Hjart…"
"Turn that off." Elijah snapped as he sat up in his bed, looking around wildly for the source of intrusion on his sleep.
But he was alone.
Confused, he reached for his phone on the bedside table and saw that it was only two am, his room was empty and there was no-one in his apartments.
He had been dreaming.
With a groan of frustration, he flopped back down onto his pillows and stared up at the canopy above him.
Tomorrow night, he would be in the King's apartments. Niklaus would sleep here from now on and Kol would be moved into Niklaus' old rooms and Henrik would be moved into Kol's.
The three of them would have to get used to the different furniture, decide which art works and decorations they would take with them and which would stay behind, they would have to find the secret entrance to the passageways and remind themselves of their new positions in both the palace and the nation.
He would miss this room. He had spent his whole life in here and now, now his brother would be moved in as an almost cruel reminder of how easily he could be replaced.
Niklaus would become the Crown Prince, he would sit in Elijah's apartments and receive guests there and in the event that Elijah died, he would be picked up and placed in the King's apartments and if he died, it would be Kol's turn.
They were like pawns on a chess board or dolls in a doll house. One is lost, another takes its place.
Who would care who inhabited the rooms? For security and the servants, it was all the same, they would follow the same protocol that they had during his father's time and if he died tomorrow, whom would be affected by it?
The nobles would bring out the same mourning clothes they had donned for Mikael and utter the same meaningless condolences, the public would repeat the same posts on social media, with only a change in name. The Treasury would print new currency with a new face and slowly the old notes and coins with his name and visage would be removed from circulation. The souvenir shops would slap clearance stickers on the knickknacks they'd created for his reign and in a week or so, they'd have newer, flashier pieces out.
Who would honestly notice or care if he was replaced?
Katerina.
She was the only one who stood to lose anything if he died. The future queen.
Her family would be fine, they would suffer the blow but find a new way to move forward, no longer in arms reach of the throne but they'd recover. Stefan Salvatore was good friends with Niklaus, the family wouldn't find themselves turned out of Court.
And he supposed that if he was out of the picture, Kol might once again step forward as a perfect match for his fiancée.
Katerina wouldn't love him like she loved Elijah. He was certain of that, but if one couldn't be the Queen, surely being consort to the Crown Prince was ample compensation?
With a groan, he rubs the sleep out of his eyes and decidedly turns his mind away from the dark path it was walking down.
He's not dead yet.
Besides, Ansel was personally overseeing every single security detail for tomorrow, he had vetted every single guest in attendance- save for Caroline Forbes, who had bought his love and loyalty with Starbucks flavoured coffees, but Elijah was sure she had no evil motives- and already infuriated foreign dignitaries by refusing their requests if they in any way posed an issue to the national security detail.
Elijah had had to endure a formal complaint from the U.S ambassador who'd had the gall to be angered after being denied the right to carry a gun into the Royal Temple. This had been surprising considering that the last incident with the U.S had been a vulgar Texas republican who'd flown to Valhalla and swaggered into the Palace on the opening day of the Winter Court with a film crew in tow and told Elijah in no uncertain terms that his country took issue with the pagan sacrificing of the totem animal that was the millennia old tradition in the coronation of kings and, caught up in his own arrogance, demanded that the king convert to Christianity or find himself at war with America.
At that point, Elijah had been somewhat certain that the politician had meant the Christian citizens of America but he'd decided to take that threat at face value.
He was not going to let the world think that he was a weak king, a puppet to have his strings pulled by the nation that considered itself the world's superpower and police force. So, he'd shrugged his shoulders, declared that their nations would then be at war and ordered his acting Minister of Defense to put the navy on high alert, to close the embassy in Washington and to order the revocation of all American visas in Valhalla.
By the time the Texan republican was being escorted to the airport, his actions were already having severe consequences.
There were roughly three thousand U.S college students studying in Valhalla, enjoying the cheap but excellent education system, including the Vice President's son- who'd found himself dragged out of a crucial exam to be evacuated to the embassy, calling his father in panic and concern as the rest of his fellow students found themselves receiving emails or calls warning them that they had to leave the country as soon as possible.
The President had found himself scrambling, as the U.S naval ship off the coast of Valhalla was ordered to leave its waters immediately and any mode of transportation-whether ship, plane or bus- even partly owned by a U.S business had to leave the territory by the end of the day.
That evening, every last media outlet in Europe and the Americas was headlining with the story, mostly in favor of Valhalla, although a few did point out that Elijah should have dismissed the threat posed by the now humiliated politician. Monarchies across the world came forward in support of the Lothbrok's and by midnight the President of the United States had personally called to apologize and humbly request that Valhalla reopen its waters, not expel U.S citizens and to be reassured of America's friendship and respect for his nation's religion.
High on his own power, Elijah had agreed only on the condition that the President issue a formal apology to be released to the press as soon as possible and to remove the Texan politician from office.
Both requests had been met and the next morning, the formal apology had been splashed across the front pages, next to the official statement from the Master of Ceremony who had explained that the animal would be anesthetized for the ritual so that it would feel no pain and to notify the world of the law which states that the animal in question is the totem animal of the ruler and for the remainder of their life, it will be illegal to hunt this animal in Valhallan territory.
Elijah had met the animal last night. The stag was being kept on the Temple grounds and, on impulse, he'd asked to be shown the creature.
It was already sedated when he'd been led to its enclosure, on the edge of sleep and in no apparent distress. He'd stroked his back and quietly explained to him why he had been chosen for the sacrifice and thanked him. He comforted himself by swearing that when he'd looked into the stag's eyes, he had seen comprehension and forgiveness there.
Perhaps tomorrow, the creature would even make him feel less alone, as he stood there before the entire world and became Valhalla's king.
Until the next one came along anyway.
And the next.
And the next.
And the…
He's awoken by a knock at his door and is surprised to see that sunlight is filtering through his windows. He doesn't remember falling asleep but can't remember having watched the sky grow lighter so he must have.
The door begins to open without his having given permission for the person to enter, so he relaxes, already seeing Katerina before she even slips inside.
"Morning," she whispers, her face unmade, wearing a pair of jeans and a pale blue top.
"Morning," he answers, sitting up and frowning at the package she's carrying in her hands, she smirks and walks sedately towards him, sitting on the edge of the bed and placing it before him.
"Tradition dictates that the King's consort brings him his clothes before the coronation, before either of us get ready" she explains,
"It was a little tricky because I'm technically not your consort yet but I still exist so it was a toss-up between me and Rebekah,"
He winces and she nods, "Yeah, so she's already unhappy and I nearly had to call your guards to stop Genevieve from yanking this out of my hands and tossing it to one of her daughters to bring instead."
He rolls his eyes and reaches out to touch the golden tissue paper, wrapped up in a silver ribbon. He tears it open and sees the suit that had been tailored for him, save for the white shirt that had been worn by his ancestors at their coronations for the last two hundred years. When held up to the light, he could still see the faint stains of blood and sweat from Mikael's coronation.
He wrinkles his nose when he detects the faint scent of the laundry powder used by the Palace, surely it was some sort of sacrilege?
Katerina shifts his dress pants out of the way and her fingers close around a small item which she places into his hand, closing his fingers over it,
"This, I snuck in," she admits, "For luck."
He opens his palm and sees a strange piece of jewellery, a rose gold brooch with the royal crest and the pin an elaborate outline of a stallion.
"Your crest and mine," she brags, taking it from him and threading it into his jacket, above the medals of his station, "I've had another one made for me, with your insignia on the pin, I'll be wearing it today."
He grins, and reaches up to cup her cheek in his hand, her curls brushing over his fingers,
"Is it not enough that I wear your love around my neck?" he teases, "Perhaps you should sew your name into all my shirts and stitch it across my pillow?"
She hums in agreement and lets him draw her in for a kiss, "Don't tempt me," she murmurs against his lips, "Or I'll have our monogram tattooed onto your chest."
He laughs and slips an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he kisses her fiercely, tempting her to part her lips and open his mouth to him. She squeals in surprise when he falls back against the pillows, bringing her against his chest and his hand leaves her cheek to stroke through her curls and down her spin to her backside, gripping it through the denim,
"Elijah," she moans as they break for air and he plants kisses along her jaw, "I have to go get ready."
"No," he protests, drawing his fingers up and sliding them under her shirt, "Stay with me."
He smothers her argument with another kiss, rolling her over onto her back and struggling to get the blankets out of the way,
"I am your king," he breathes against her neck as she gasps and rises to his touch, "And I order you to stay."
She shakes her head but doesn't protest when he unbuttons her jeans and slides his hand into her panties, she lifts her hips to grant him access as his fingers stroke her folds, arousing her until she is wet and he can slip his digits into her with ease,
"Elijah," she moans his name and presses her palm to his chest, her nails scratching his skin as he drives his fingers in and out of her, her head tilts back against the pillow and her eyelids flutter closed. Her hand drops to the waistband of his boxers and pushes them out of the way, reaching for his cock and wrapping her hand around it, her thumb swipes across his tip, catching a drop of pre-cum and she squeezes him gently, opening her eyes as she runs her hand from head to base. Her cheeks are flushed and her breathing quickens as his fingers search out the perfect spot and press against it, she comes apart under his touch with a weak cry and pulls the blanket to protect her clothes as he spills onto her palm.
He buries his head in the crook of her neck and tries to catch his breath as she wipes her hand on the blanket and rests it on his back,
"This is the last time we'll ever be together in this room," he whispers in her ear, "After today…"
She turns her face and kisses the crook of his neck,
"The King's rooms…or the Queen's," she wrinkles her nose, "I'll speak to the Master of the Household about changing the mattresses and sheets."
He chuckles and buries his nose in her hair before they're startled by a knock on the door,
"Your Majesty," Stefan's voice filters through the wood, "Lady Katerina's presence is requested at the Cousin's Palace."
She reaches for his phone on his bedside table and sees the time, cursing she slips out from under him, "I am really running late," she explains as she ducks into his bathroom and washes her hands, making herself presentable before hurrying out the door, "I'll see you later." She calls, waving absently as she disappears,
"Goodbye." He calls after her and sighs as Stefan sticks his head in, "Can I send in the gentlemen of the privy chamber?"
He shakes his head at the thought of all the customs and laws of etiquette he'd have to go through today just to get dressed,
"Fine," He surrenders, "Bring them in."
Katherine could hear the laughter and chatter coming from her rooms before she even reached the grand doors, which had been left ajar, she slipped back in and went momentarily unnoticed as Caroline had body wrapped herself around another girl,
"It is so, so, so, so good to see you," she squeals excitedly and then sees Katherine standing behind her,
"Oh my God, Kat, your mom is getting really anxious about you not being ready on time! You have to get in the bath, like now!"
Katherine smirks and waves at the young woman, "Katerina Petrova."
The woman waved, "Bonnie Bennett, fiancé to the tragically missing Damon Salvatore."
The woman was pretty and had a sense of humour, good, it might keep her sane in this world she was being cruelly thrust into.
"If you're lucky, he's standing by an open window blazing up right now," she warns as she strides past,
"If not, you're going to get a running commentary through the whole damn coronation."
Her dressing room had been taken over by the women in her family and the hairdressers, make-up artists and manicurists who were hard at work on various people. Elena was sitting on a stool having her hair professionally straightened despite the numerous treatments she had undergone to render it permanently straight,
"Mom is being put into her dress right now," she tells her without moving her head or even looking up from the mirror,
"But she said that Caroline and Bonnie should be seen once you're ready."
Katherine smirks and watches the hairdresser run the flat iron through her sister's hair,
"Is that what she actually said?" she asked in Romani and her sister giggled,
"She may have used a few colourful words about your punctuality."
They had three hours before they had to be ready but Katherine knew as she walked into her bathroom and saw the tub filled with essential oils that Miranda was going to take every minute available to them to ensure that not one Petrova family member or anyone who could claim kinship would step out that door looking less than stunning.
And by the time Katherine could pick up her skirts and descend the marble stairs to the palace garden, she was actually feeling grateful that her mother had been so insistent.
She had never felt more beautiful. Especially because, in her hair sat a tiara of silver with diamonds set as roses, that Elijah had sent via the Royal Jeweller.
Katherine stopped at the hall leading to the palace gardens and allowed her mother to check her over one more time before she led her family outside, where dozens upon dozens of elegant carriages lined the path from the Royal palace to the Cousin's palace. Dressage horses stamped their feet and shook their heads as the nobility milled around in their finery, chattering excitedly and taking endless photos while they waited for the signal.
Aiden saw her and bustled over, looking caffeinated to his eyebrows,
"Elijah wanted me to double-check that you have everything you need," he almost shouted into her face,
"And to make sure you know where your family is in the line of precedence."
"Um…okay," Caroline stepped around Katherine and faced Aiden, either as her personal assistant or as her protector, Katherine couldn't be entirely sure.
"I see that the carriages are numbered so you tell me and I'll put her in the right one."
Aiden nodded so hard he was probably giving himself spinal damage, "Here, let me show you."
He grabbed her hand and tucked it under her arm, pulling her away so quickly that if Katherine wasn't sure that he wasn't interested in women she probably would have screamed for security.
And she nearly did when she saw him almost push Caroline into a carriage but her friend somehow had the man smiling, managing the barest of laughs before he ran off to the next item on what was probably a To-Do List longer than the preparation for a satellite launch.
"Dear Katerina."
Katherine turned when she heard the familiar overly sweet and poisonous tones of Duchess Genevieve, she spins on her heel with a flourish of her skirts, knowing how beautiful she looked and sank into a quick and graceful curtsy. "Your Grace," she smiles, "How nice to see you."
Genevieve's smile cracks on her face and her expression becomes ugly as her eyes land upon the tiara in Katherine's hair,
"That's the Queen Freida tiara," she spits, "Why are you wearing that?!"
Sensing the hostility, her family starts to circle closer but Giuseppe is the first one to speak,
"Ah, thank-you Genevieve," he rests his hands on his cane, "Since the Royal Jeweller presented it I have been wracking my brain trying to recall the name of the piece."
It had been a long-standing joke that Genevieve's knowledge of the Royal Jewels equalled that of the Jeweller himself and the computer inventory, her eyes catalogued every piece greedily and she had often snatched up any chance she was given to wear one of the jewels and they always had a hard time convincing her to return them.
Katherine has a moment where she honestly thinks that Genevieve is going to rip the tiara out of her hair and braces herself to fend her off when they are interrupted,
"Mother?"
One of Genevieve's daughters, Davina- Katherine manages to recall the name, comes over,
"Monique said there's an issue with the carriage." She sighs and slouches, crossing her arms, "The gold probably isn't shiny enough for her."
Behind her, Damon snickers and Davina blushes prettily at having caught his attention, Genevieve hurries off and the girl lingers, looking up at Katherine shyly,
"You look really nice." She says quietly and Katherine smiles kindly, "So do you," she offers the young girl, "I love your hair."
Davina's smile is like the sun breaking through on a cloudy day and she scampers off with an innocent joy that Katherine had long since forgotten and envies her for.
Her attention is drawn by the ribald sounds of cheering and clapping and the family watches as Stefan approaches,
"I've been chosen." He confesses and Katherine and Elena burst out laughing while Caroline frowns in confusion, "For what?"
Katherine is about to explain it to her but she sees Klaus making a beeline for them and falls silent, letting him take the opportunity,
"To be the loyal traitor," he explains, slightly breathless from having moved so quickly,
"A long standing tradition," he continues, taking a step towards her after Alexander and Giuseppe start talking loudly about the weather, making it almost impossible to be heard,
"The King and the Crown Prince travel in the same carriage, however, because my ancestors had a tendency to kill each other on the way to the coronation, it became law that we had to have a man ride with us. Fortunately, after a few kings chose assassins to knock their heirs off for them, a law was passed that both the King and the Crown Prince had to approve of the man. So naturally, we'd choose whomever we thought was more likely to kill the other royal."
"Oh," Caroline giggles as she realises, "That's why he's called a loyal traitor?"
Klaus nods, beaming at her amusement, "At some point, both 'Lijah and I have to sneak a weapon to Stefan for him to carry through the ride and 'hope'," he uses his fingers to make the air quotation marks, "That he's either loyal to the king or a traitor."
Stefan is blushing as people in the crowd tease him and Katherine steps forward, taking his hand and raising it to her lips, kissing it dramatically,
"Please don't kill the King," she jokes, her voice breaking as she tries to hold back her laughter, "I'd be ever so heartbroken."
Elena has to hold onto Bonnie to stay upright she's laughing so hard and even Giuseppe has a smile of amusement on his face,
"Good luck." He tells his son, "And if you do decide to commit treason, I ask that you at least commit it successfully."
Stefan sighs loudly, "I'm going to go wait by the carriage," he mutters, spinning on his heel and stalking over to the carriage at the front of the line.
"We'd best find our carriages," Miranda instructs the family, "The courtiers have to leave before the King." She explains to Caroline and Bonnie,
"Okay," Caroline draws her phone out of thin air and taps the screen, "I have the list Aiden sent me, we're in carriages three and four."
Oh.
That would have been the problem Monique had with the carriage, the first two carriages were reserved for the King and his children or siblings, and then the natural children, in this case Finn and Freya. Katherine, Caroline and her parents would ride in the third carriage while Elena, as a Salvatore, would ride with her in-laws in the fourth carriage and therefore they would all enter the Temple before Genevieve, making them the most powerful nobles in the land.
There was no backing down now.
So, I'm now moving my Kalijah stories to kalijah-addict tumblr so that it's easier to find the fic that you're looking for. If anyone would like to make me a kalijah themed header that would be lovely!