A.N.: If I ever write a Game of Thrones fanfic, I want my character Lyarra's song to be 'Dance of Dragons' from season five, because I feel it is wasted on the Khaleesi. The song is epic. It would also fit for Giulia, but of course in this world it's still 2010 and Ned Stark is still alive! But the song works for the theme of this chapter. Listen to it, and think of Giulia.

The chapter-title was inspired by the first song Harry ever hears the Sorting Hat sing. I just went to see Finding Dory and one of the trailers was Fantastic Beasts… I was giddy in my cinema seat, clapping my hands like an excited six-year-old on Christmas day!


Dangerous Beauty

43

A Thousand Years or More Ago…


The sun had set in a violent wash of fuchsia and red, gilded by the strong, dying sun.

"Where's Elena?" Stefan asked, eyes widening in alarm as he glanced around the great-room, finding her gone. The two Salvatore brothers searched every room, finding no trace; Damon had to threaten to subdue Stefan with vervain if he didn't calm down – Giulia had protected Elena's life where they had come up empty.

It was a few moments before Caroline, her voice so quiet and so solemn it was terrifying, asked, "Where's Giulia?"

She glanced at Elijah, whose features were pale and impossibly perfect. He had watched the two girls walk down the driveway to Giulia's beloved Beetle, one so slender it looked painful, the other tall and luscious, both dark-haired, both so different.

Giulia had asked him for his faith, and though it went beyond all his experience to trust so implicitly in one person, especially one so brilliant – he did. She had taken a vow from him, knowing exactly what she was doing – what she was prepared to do for him. He couldn't see how this was to his favour in finding his family…but if it was one movement on the chessboard, he would continue his part in their strategy to win the final game.

He swallowed, and met Caroline's eye.

"She's gone," he said softly. He had listened to the two girls steal from the house, smelled the tang of blood, and footsteps, two heartbeats – one steady, strong, the other thrumming like a hummingbird in panic – steadily getting softer the further away from the house they had walked, pace determined. Giulia had led the way.

He stared at Caroline, and she stared back – until Damon grabbed him by the lapels, fury in his face, and Liz had to warn him off, as Caroline darted in a blonde blur to the front-door, flinging herself out – rebuffed violently by magic.

"It's the way she wants it," Sheila said softly, and all eyes went to her. Elijah straightened his suit-jacket, hiding the tremble of his fingers as he neatened his tie, and tried not to dwell. He knew Giulia's scream too well; that scream had come from Elena. And that meant only one thing.

Giulia was dead.

He needed a vampire, his mind whispered, and remembered Giulia extracting his promise – that no matter what happened he would continue with their plan. Her plan.

Sheila had said 'It's the way she wants it' and that was certainly true. They had all – Elijah himself included – been pawns as Giulia played her game against his brother, whether Klaus knew it was Giulia pulling strings or not. Whether he realised she was still pulling strings, even now.

This was the way Giulia wanted it.

How it fit into her plan, Elijah had no idea. But he knew her too well, knew she hadn't ignored the hints that she was not…normal, not fully human. How could she?

He had to leave the moment Caroline realised what was going on. Realised that Giulia…was gone. He couldn't watch her frantic heartbreak, her disbelief, beside herself with grief and confusion. The others were protected inside the Boarding House, Sheila Bennett had ensured that; Elijah was the exception, and as Caroline devolved into hysteria, trying to get out, blinded by tears as she tried to get to her friend, Elijah buttoned his jacked and slipped out the back-door.

He had no doubt Giulia would make it up to Caroline.

But he hadn't expected this. And though he wanted it to affect their plan…he couldn't let it. She had made him swear, already planning this, to make sure… She had left the house of her own volition, she had strode up to Klaus moonstone in-hand, leading the doppelgänger…

Boldly they rode, and well

For a few interminable moments, Elijah focused entirely on the simple fact that Giulia had driven to her death, to be used as a vampire in Niklaus' sacrifice.

She was…gone.

Dead.

And, though he had faith in her, he could not see how this was the way.

But it was too late to alter the course; and he would not break his word to her.

He walked off, following Giulia's scent, hiding out of sight, upwind, from the quarry, so he could see, but not be seen.

Until the full moon reached its apex and the sacrifice ritual completed, he had to remain hidden.

And his eyes never wavered from the dark mass on the dry brown grass by the water's edge, natural waves glinting in the firelight as Klaus' large male witch prepared.

The little female one, Greta, had not survived her attack on Caroline and Tyler earlier in the day. A shame; a little vampire-blood in her system and her death might have meant something.

He saw, but didn't let it in; that dark figure crumpled on the ground was Giulia.

Elijah was, but he couldn't…process, couldn't accept that she was there. That all along she had been planning this. He didn't let it in, couldn't. Giulia was not dead. She had a reason for everything she did, a motivation, some kind of insight. But in this instance…he could not see it. Perhaps she had learned something she hadn't shared with him – they still had their secrets from each other, after all, and he was sure Giulia had some secrets she didn't even know she was keeping.

They had a while to wait. Giulia would not rise; and until then, everything else was on hold.

Elijah stayed upwind, out of earshot, and broke.

Shock and grief warred with confusion, and anger, crippling him.

It did not matter in the instant his knees buckled, grief seeming to shatter every bone in his body, unable to support himself, sorrow and loss seeming to sear his veins as his heart throbbed with a devastating ache, his hand shook as he raised it to knead the heel of his palm against his chest, his heart seeming to burn within his chest, his eyes burning, acid trickling down his cheeks, gasping for breath.

How could she do this?

Don't you dare break your promise, her voice whispered in his mind.

She had known. This was always her plan.

And she had never let on – because how could she tell him this?

He would never risk it – never risk her.

Not for Niklaus.

Not for his family.

Not even for Gyda.

He wanted her back. He wanted her here – he wanted to play cards with her; design little puzzles for her; he wanted to fuck her raw morning and night, wherever he chanced to find her. He wanted to dance the night away with her, and lose track of time with her. He wanted to share his meals with her; tease her; explore the world with her. He wanted her to grow up, to blossom into a fearsome woman he knew in his heart she would become, awing, generous, loyal, brilliant. Irreplaceable.

Elijah could still taste her on his lips, still smelt her perfume and her scent on him, felt her muscles squeezing him so deliciously as she panted and writhed in his arms, smiling.

He watched, wiping his face on his handkerchief, willing her to rise.

He could not imagine Giulia would ever have allowed Niklaus to force his blood on her; whose had she used? He remembered the tang of blood on the air as she and Elena had crept from the house. Whose? The house was full of vampires; who had she asked for their blood? A flicker of anger shot through him; she had not asked him. But then, he would never have consented to this; and she knew it.

So he watched. And he waited. And he wished Giulia could see the state Elena was in, fluttering over her dead body, wringing her hands and crying. The memory of Caroline's hysteria made every risk Giulia had ever taken for her best-friend worthwhile; Caroline loved Giulia just as much.

And Caroline was tucked away where Giulia knew she was safe.

Valour.

Giulia possessed it in excess.


She groaned, her head throbbing, something nicking at her tongue, her jaw aching, and sat up, rubbing the back of her neck, exhaling.

A petrified gasp made her glance up, squinting in the light of fires illuminating everything with a vibrancy she had never experienced before, a handful of small fires conjured by magic to illuminate the rocky water's edge of the quarry, mesmerising, elusive, lulling. She sneezed, shaking her head, at the scents swirling around her, overwhelming, delicious, the sun-baked earth, the wild flowers in a meadow, the richness of tiny violets in a glade in the woods, her own perfume reacting exquisitely with her skin and her sweat from the hot day, she could hear the breeze whispering like a conversation through the trees, heard birdsong in notes she had never heard, the ripple of water like a melody, she could feel the heat from the sun-baked earth, the scent of warm skin and the rush of blood pumping from a heart beating frantically.

Elena.

Giulia tilted her head thoughtfully as she observed her, dark hair shimmering around her tear-stained face, tiny nose and dark eyes, she could see why Stefan found her attractive – the firelight made her hair shimmer with mahoganies, cherry-reds, golden-copper and chestnut, her eyes looked prettier…

With a pang that hit her with the strength of a gunshot-wound, Giulia gasped at the pain shattering through her body as she fleetingly wondered how pretty Elijah's dark eyes would be with her new eyesight.

All she wanted…was him.

She didn't care about blood – she knew she had to feed, but she didn't care: She wanted her Elijah.

And she had to swallow, and push that thought away, because this was her plan, this was what she had to do. This was the leap of faith she was taking, and everything after it would fall into place exactly the way she wanted – for him.

Elijah, her heart sighed, squeezing painfully in her chest.

"Giulia…are you okay?" Elena asked breathlessly, hovering on her tiptoes, about to take flight, tears spilling over her wan cheeks. Why she was crying, Giulia didn't know; she'd wake up at dawn ready to skip school again.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked, frowning softly. She felt fine – more herself, though fidgety. As if she needed to shed her old skin. She could…still feel Elijah. More exquisitely. Her gums ached, and she knew why. She could taste the salt of Elena's tears on the air, as if she had melted a lump of salt on her own tongue; the crackle of the fire lulled her, its brightness and the mesmerising, unnameable colours flickering in its depths whispering to her; the breeze sighed, murmuring secrets, bringing with it the scent of the sunshine, decaying wood, the tang of hot tarmac, wildflowers and oversweet, rotting fruit, the strawberry-lime gum in Elena's pocket, its little wrapper scratching against the fabric of her jeans, the reaction of Elena's sweat against her cheap necklace, and the scent of her hair, killed, no matter how much protective serum she used, by abusive flat-ironing.

"You're – you're… Giulia, you're in transition," Elena gasped, gazing imploringly at her as if Giulia had missed a beat.

"I know," Giulia blinked.

"And I'll bet you're thirsty," a deep voice said. Klaus' hulking male witch strode forward, a lethal-looking sacrificial blade in his hand. He sliced his arm, holding it out to Giulia with a self-satisfied smirk.

The scent was tantalising, it made Giulia's mouth water; there was no denying it.

But she gave him an imperious, disdainful look, pulling a blood-bag from her inside jacket-pocket, telling him, "I don't eat junk food."

She punctured the blood-bag – one-hundred percent certified B+ soccer-mom, Caroline's favourite. She had taken it from Car's stash – and drank it down like a juice-box.

The senses that had sharpened in her transition now honed exquisitely. Scents, heat, sounds, everything magnified a hundred-fold, and Giulia sighed, licking her lips, chest heaving as blood rushed through her body, tickling her fingertips and sending blood throbbing to every pressure-point. She groaned, bending backwards to stretch, and hummed happily as everything clicked and relaxed.

Every sensation Elijah had left her body aching from, taking her hard against the wall in her childhood bedroom, was magnified – her urge was not to tear Elena's throat out, but to choke on a moan as she slipped a hand into her jeans, resisting the urge, whimpering as every tiny motion rubbed her denims against her thin panties, the friction making her shiver, taking her so much by surprise she almost tripped over her own feet. Her bra felt too tight, constricting, and all she wanted was to strip everything off and roll around in the luscious sun-baked grass, exploring her throbbing clit and her aching nipples, every movement of her shoulders rubbing the fabric of her bra against her pierced nipple and making her knees buckle.

She could still feel him, throbbing deep inside her, raw and delicious, full on the echo of him but missing him, panted softly to herself as she strolled in a circle, a tiny private smile on her lips as she enjoyed the deliciousness of the fabric rubbing against her, teasing her nipples, the scent of the warm grass drifting up to her, the colours of the fire mesmerising, and she tripped on her own feet as her gaze lifted, and found herself entranced. The stars

Giulia pulled out her earphones, put her favourite playlist on, and lay back on the fragrant, warm earth, encircled by vibrant fire, blocking Elena's whimpering cries as she listened to her favourite songs – 'Let's Spend the Night Together', 'Nessun Dorma', 'Send Me on My Way', 'White Blank Page' and 'You Should be Dancing' above all – lying on her back, one ankle draped on her other knee, bouncing to the music, hands behind her head, watching the cosmos glow and undulate and glitter above her, enjoying the private, delicious feeling of her clothing caressing her skin, her hardest urge not that of fighting through the enchanted flames to tear Elena's throat out and glut on her blood, but to slip her hand inside her jeans. She gazed at the moon, knowing he had by now made his way from the Boarding House, would now at this moment be hidden, watching – a streak of guilt might almost have been enough to douse her arousal, but the breeze had picked up, caressing lovingly over her t-shirt, and she listened to her favourite music, revelling in the new sensations she got to enjoy.

This was what Caroline felt every day. This…delight, a sense of wonder – the world was more beautiful than even she had ever imagined. With her new eyes, the moon glowed silver and brilliant, the fire flickering and dancing with unnamed hues, everything illuminated like daylight, only richer, moodier, she adored it, her favourite music the soundtrack to this macabre scene, and she lifted her head and raised an eyebrow as a pained scream shot through the still air, a hunched figure shuddering with pain, her ears picking up the sound of her organs churning and bones shattering like branches splintering in a high wind – in slow-motion – over her music. Klaus reappeared, towing a buckled Jules. The werewolf. He had his doppelgänger, he now had his vampire. He was only missing one key ingredient.

"Ladies," he said softly, smirking around as a flaming circle shot up around Jules, screaming in agony, magic preventing her from turning. Her body was trying to fight the witch's spell, the need to turn more powerful than any other magic – it had transcended Klaus's death, after all.

Giulia turned off her iPod, wrapped the earphones around it and slipped it into her pocket, and stood, dusting the grass off her jeans. Klaus sauntered over to her, his eyes on her.

"I believe you have something of mine," he said quietly. Giulia took the moonstone out of her pocket, tossing it negligently to him. He caught it, giving her an annoyed look, before turning to his witch. He sighed as he examined it in the firelight, smooth and glowing. "I've been searching for this for half a millennium… I hate to part with it."

"The moon is past its apex," the witch said. "You remember everything you need to do?"

"I've had witches working on deconstructing this curse for centuries," Klaus said, an impatient bite in his tone. "Of course I bloody remember." The witch raised an eyebrow, then tossed the moonstone negligently onto a great boulder, temporarily blinding Giulia's new eyes as sparks flew, flames soaring high, and Jules screamed beside her. As if drawn to the sound, Klaus sauntered over.

"Giulia…" Jules moaned, her eyes shining with tears of complete agony as she tried to look up, seeking Giulia's face through the firelight. "Giulia…?"

"I'm here," Giulia said quietly, taking a knee beside the flames, wary of their heat.

Jules panted, screaming in pain, but she held Giulia's eye, and whimpered, "I'm so…sorry. I need you to know that."

Giulia hadn't expected any apology, but she took Jules' with grace, nodding delicately. "Shall we?" The flames disappeared, and Klaus sauntered over to her. Jules glanced around, caught Giulia's eye, and darted away – Elena gasped, horrified, as Klaus caught her, a hand plunged into her chest, and Giulia swallowed, eyes narrowing, as he caressed her face almost lovingly, the tang of salt from her tears as they glittered on her cheeks, and ripped her heart from her chest in a spray of blood that made Elena jump, eyes swimming.

Klaus dawdled over to his witch, a smug smile on his face, bloody heart dripping on the ground, and Giulia noted Elena, her knees buckling, hand covering her mouth to stop a scream from erupting, choking back tears, as she narrowed her own eyes on Klaus, dislike seeping through every cell in her body. He was enjoying this.

After a thousand years, he had worked Esther's spell into some kind of curse to punish him – he believed wrongly that only he knew how much he truly deserved such punishment: but Esther hadn't intended to punish him, but protect him. From instincts he didn't understand, impulses he couldn't master. She understood the urge to do what was necessary, to take pleasure in the game – but to enjoy cruelty, to savour the cold-blooded murder of a stranger for his own gain…

Runt of the litter, her mind whispered.

His witch muttered under his breath, performing the spell as Klaus squeezed the blood from Jules' still-warm heart, her tears still damp on her dull cheeks, curls teased by the breeze, sprawled on her back, tossed aside negligently like a crumpled candy-wrapper.

My turn, she thought, understanding the distracted whisper of the witch, the growing inferno of the fire in front of him, the way Klaus turned to her, malevolent smile in place as the fire sent ugly shadows across his face.

She would not let him enjoy her death the way he had gotten so much satisfaction from Jules'. He would look back on this moment with annoyance, dissatisfaction – regret.

"You're getting exactly what you wanted," Giulia said softly, a smile on her lips, in her voice. "You will regret it."

"Mighty bold talk from someone on death-row," Klaus said mildly. Giulia beamed.

"Sweetheart, I'll have the last laugh," she assured him, and laughed as she dashed into the flames encircling her. Elena's horrified, continuous screams and Klaus' roar of rage as he bellowed "Nooooo!" and threw a tantrum, the unused stake in his hand splintering, his expression maddened, made her laugh as she burned.


He traipsed through the carnage, the bodies.

The werewolf Jules, her ribcage shattered open, tears still glittering on her pale cheeks, disposed of carelessly, unwanted, on the rocks.

Elena Gilbert, dark eyes closed, her dark hair a curtain over her face, masking the gaping wound he could smell on the air, draped on the ground where Niklaus had let her slide down, body drained of her blood now smeared around his brother's mouth.

And Giulia. Her dark hair, gone, her luscious body, unrecognisable, the flames devouring her greedily. Pain burned behind his eyes, threatening to shatter him from within, and he paused by her side, the heat of the flames uncomfortable against his skin.

This was not his Giulia.

But despite himself, he smiled. Certainly she had met her death on her own terms, in a way only Giulia Salvatore could ever have; smirking, taking the upper-hand, taunting, taking the sadistic pleasure away from Klaus, knowing absolute control over every minute of this was what he craved – and she had deprived him of, taking that pleasure with her.

He noticed her jacket, neatly-folded on the ground beside her, untouched.

He frowned down at the sound of music, found Giulia's iPod playing – 'Nessun Dorma'.

'None shall sleep', indeed, he thought, with a heavy sigh, glancing up at the crunch of bone. He paused Giulia's music, tucking the iPod back in the jacket-pocket, and turned his eyes to Niklaus.

He strolled through the macabre detritus, hyper-aware of the warmth to his back as the other fires burned out, casually observing his brother, reaping what he sowed.

Giulia's hypothesis had been proven accurate with this first glance.

Half-man, half-beast, bones crunching, choking on howls of agony with the entrails he had torn from his witch's stomach with bloody claws tipping huge, unearthly paw-like hands, thumbless, covered in fur, soft black pads instead of palms. A snout, a lethal, bloodied maw, in place of his mouth, smeared with blood and entrails as he ripped mindlessly through flesh, glowing black eyes glazed, unseeing, devouring the liver and soft organs, enjoying the rending of soft flesh, the crunch of bones, digging for the marrow, thoroughly canine, and yet still half in the form of a man.

His witch showed the signs of being hunted by a wolf – deep, bleeding gashes to the backs of his legs – but also signs a vampire had attacked, throat mangled before instinct had overpowered him, shaking his struggling prey to snap his neck – the witch's head had been torn clean off.

Elijah had seen many a macabre scene in his unending life – the most harrowing still his earlier memories of life in the castle in Marseille – but this…it was one of the most disturbing things he had ever seen. And he had lived through the Inquisition!

His brother was gone.

Before him was some…thing. A mindless, warped monster.

Watching him was horrifying. From the other side of the quarry Elijah had watched Klaus as the moonlight seemed to linger on his skin like a physical caress, and then it all went wrong. Whatever Klaus had expected, it was not this; but Giulia had. He had watched as Klaus started to change, stuck. He sniffed the air, muzzle pointed to the werewolf, rearing, and howling mournfully into the night at the loss of one of his own. He sneezed at Elena Gilbert; and as for Giulia's burning corpse, he eschewed the flames with a sneeze and a growl, backing away warily, growling low. Then he noticed the only living prey; Elijah had watched him turn on his witch, overpowering him easily after the witch had depleted his strength to lift Esther's spell. Klaus had acted like a wolf – without a pack to help him take down his prey. He had hunted the witch, wolf-like, but with certain behaviours more attributed to vampires, and was now fixated on digging out his innards, mindless.

Elijah whistled under his breath, taking a secret enjoyment from taunting him. With a snarl, Klaus leapt over the witch's body, hovering over it, posture aggressive, defensive. Animalistic.

His eyes were unnerving, glowing amber bleeding into black, veins flickering under his eyes, his facial-features distorted, eyes pushed wider, nose still slightly more human than the blood muzzle, human teeth shining red, blonde hair glinting, clothes splattered with blood, a low, continuous rumble of a growl emanating from a chest bowed and misshapen, arms at an unnatural angle, legs shaking as bones snapped, breaking up the growl with a yelp of pain, distracted utterly from his enemy, his guard down as Elijah advanced.

He had Niklaus' heart in his hand, pounding frantically away; he wondered if Niklaus was even aware, even there to feel the poetic justice of Elijah tearing the beating heart from his chest. His mind whispered, Giulia… The heat from her body burned against his back, the glow of the riotous flames casting shadows, distorting Klaus' already monstrous visage. Klaus' body shuddered in awareness, the hideous yelping whine of distress reverberating up Elijah's arm as bones snapped and reformed, his brother's features seemed to morph across his face, awareness and horror suddenly flicking in his eyes, as Klaus choked on an agonised gasp.

"'Lijah!" he gasped, and Elijah reared back as his face changed again, human eyes and nose jarring like a Picasso into a canine maw, sharp fangs bloody, full of flesh, shining in the moonlight, snapping viciously at Elijah's throat with a brutal bark. Elijah stepped back, out of reach, and watched.

His brother was slow.

Crawling on all fours, an unnatural monster made real from nightmares, hands halfway morphed into paws, hairy, thumbless, black pads instead of palms, claws bloody from his prey, muzzle incongruous on his face, eyes pushed apart, ears distorted, chest snapping and bowing, insides in turmoil, thigh-bone and clavicle snapping as he howled and snapped frothing jaws, growling, crawling toward him, human emotion tearing across his face – pain, terror – his chest slowly healing. He gave an inhuman, non-canine sound like a scream and a growl overlying each other, and Elijah watched stony-faced as his brother's form stretched out, back bowing, howling into the night, snarling continuously as he dragged himself, furious, focused, toward Elijah, every vertebra in his spine shattering – Elijah could hear every single one splinter, heard the howl of agony, saw his brother briefly flash through the hideous visage of his new form, utterly shocked, utterly lost, the moon's toll taking effect, the snout reappearing with a snarl.

With a crack Elijah felt in his marrow, Klaus reared, howling in torture, and Elijah watched, hiding his horror, as his back warped, rearing, more lupine in form, snarling, his jaw dripping with bloody saliva – his own blood, as well as the dead witch's – rearing to his toes, body curving, and he let out several vicious barks, snapping his lethal fangs in Elijah's direction, lurching.

More lupine than man, Elijah traced away, out of his reach. Drawing him away from…from the girls.

They had died because of him. He would not allow them to be dishonoured further.

And he drew Niklaus away.

The heat from Giulia softened, until he no longer felt it; instead, he could sense Niklaus following him, chasing him through the woods – he slowed his pace, needing Niklaus to keep his focus on him. Drawing him deeper into the woods…where he could harm no-one.

Shock temporarily overrode his sense of grief and heartbreak, his loss.

He had not truly anticipated how…devastating lifting Mother's spell would be for Niklaus. A necessary evil, an opportunity – he had thought of the sacrificial magic only as a means to achieve his ends – punish Niklaus, find his family.

While he had been plotting to kill Niklaus, at the very least give him his only true scare in centuries, Giulia…had seen this coming. Had laughed in the face of Niklaus' fury, not in the least annoyed she would not be there to witness this; she had already seen it. Understood the delicacies of Esther's magic overriding his instincts, the way her magic had warped his nature, tearing him apart from the inside out, physically – and mentally.

She knew.

And she had warned him, No matter what happens

At the very least, Kol and Ashlyn knew what he was up to. If Ashlyn could find the daggers, she might be able to find them… If he continued Giulia's plan and allowed himself to be daggered by Niklaus for attempting his assassination, and she learned of her friend's death…Ashlyn would surely have motivation to find him? Release him – reunite him with his family… Surely…

Perhaps that was what Giulia had had in mind all along.

But why…?

There was no point asking what was going on in Giulia's head – he wouldn't understand what she was thinking until she wanted him to. Whenever he thought he had caught up, he realised he was still twelve steps behind. The game

Was her death all part of the game – her game? Her strategy?

He might never know. Not until he tested it.

And he had given his word.

Over a thousand years, that was all he had of his own to keep. His word. His honour. The humblest part of him, his trickiest flaw.

The sun hurt his eyes as it rose, the sky palest lilac, warm peach, gilded, waking the world, birdsong falling silent as he led Niklaus further into the woods, watching on in horror, discerning more the longer he watched, the more Niklaus – the thing that had replaced him – struggled.

He never truly became a wolf. Not entirely. He stumbled and lurched through the woods; temporarily, he became almost a man entirely again, screaming in torture, begging Elijah to help him. He did not. He watched, the snout sharpening, eyes glowing amber in the sunlight, discerning that though Niklaus was not slave to the moon, he was…slave to the beast within, untethered, Niklaus powerless to stop the transformation overriding everything else. The beast was trying to leap free, leashed within Niklaus' own skin, entirely losing himself to the monster, more wolf than man, crazed and mindless – bloodlust.

Only Niklaus' vampirism prevented the beast from breaking free entirely; Esther's magic still had its hold on Niklaus, in its way, his vampire instincts glimmering in the chaos of his new nature, drawing him back, keeping the beast from throwing itself over the brink, and taking Niklaus with it.

Whether Niklaus was following him, hoping Elijah would help him or put an end to his pain, or the beast followed him with some instinct, Elijah did not know, but Niklaus followed him, and that was all that mattered. He drew the monster away from the small town that would never forget.

He watched his brother kill a deer in the dawn, a beautiful doe with inky dark eyes and great long lashes, pretty ears and a delicate wet little nose, seeming to smile serenely at Elijah in the twinkling half-light touched with amber and rose, green glowing around them. For a moment, he was thrown back to the forests and fjords of Kattegat, hunting deer, spending hours in the glowing green forests, the tang of spring snows on the air.

Niklaus set upon the deer with a savagery that stole the breath from Elijah's lungs.


Two nights and a day, Niklaus struggled. Several times, he appeared almost a man again, collapsed on the sun-baked ground amid fallen leaves and forest debris, almost dead, his heartbeat so slow, his injuries slowly healing, dazed, his eyes glazed.

Finally, he emerged from the chaos. Long enough to ask why Elijah had not killed him.

"It occurs to me this…may be exactly what you deserve," Elijah said, waving a hand delicately at Niklaus. "I cannot very well reunite my family with you dead. Rather…it would be far easier to awaken them with you alive."

This was not what Niklaus had envisioned. They both knew it.

And Elijah had quickly understood that Niklaus could not have someone alive and walking this earth who knew of this…vulnerability.

The very thing Niklaus had counted on as his greatest weapon seemed now to be an unpredicted…liability.

Well…someone had predicted it.

Elijah wondered how long Niklaus would be slave to the beast.

A true monster.

"Well, if that's all you wanted," Klaus said, with a smile that did not reach his eyes. There was no gloating, no smugness, nothing but horror, truly shaken to his core. He had not seen that look in Niklaus' eyes since Father had had him strung up for his flogging. "You need only have asked."

He staggered from the ground, naked, his broken body still shaking, healing. He no longer had the advanced healing Elijah did, and he knew Klaus saw him observing his inferior healing. Seeking out weaknesses.

Elijah didn't have to look far.

Niklaus was now a ticking time-bomb. How long would his lucidity last?


He frowned at his phone as it buzzed, saw a text from Stefan Salvatore. He replied, slipping his phone back into his pocket, and followed Niklaus to Alaric Saltzman's studio-apartment. A lean shadow draped against the door, solemn expression firmly in place, hands in his pockets.

Stefan's eyes landed on Klaus, wasting no time with pleasantries. "I need your help… For my brother."

"Well, whatever it is will have to wait a tick. You see, I have an obligation to my brother that requires my immediate attention."

"What has happened?" Elijah asked quietly. He had sent Elizabeth Forbes a text two nights ago, letting her know the state of things, to prepare her daughter for finding Giulia. He had had no word from anyone else.

"The werewolf, Hayley, bit Damon while he was trying to help get her into the cellar," Stefan said heavily. "She started to transform, went after Carol. He stopped her."

"How heroic," Klaus smirked. "I don't suppose heroism runs in the Salvatore family? It was very bold of your niece; to take her friend's place as sacrifice. A pity she burned herself; I would have made her a very beautiful corpse. A stake to the heart is by far a more pleasant death than burning to death. I'd know. People have been trying to kill me for a thousand years. You see, unlike your family, Stefan, it is duplicity that runs through our veins thicker than blood."

Elijah screamed, saw Stefan's shocked expression, and his last thought was of Giulia, laughing in bed, skin flushed and delicious, the feel of her muscles clamping down around him as she groaned and sighed, preening, the softness and heat and natural scent of her skin, her teeth nipping his ear and that tempting little silver ring through her nipple that elicited such exquisite reactions from her when he suckled and teased her.

Her kiss was the last thing he remembered, the exquisite ecstasy and relief of being deep inside her.


A.N.: I need hardly ask…reviews, please!