Chapter title from Nick Drake's "A Place to Be"
Everyone is thinking about it, but no one is saying it. It's the elephant in the room – well, vehicle – and it's clearly, plainly there, but everyone has far too much tact to make a comment to Elijah.
Except for Caroline.
"So," she draws the word out, eyes glued to the building they are approaching rapidly via a back dirt road. "You're like really, really rich, aren't you? I bet you make the Salvatore's bank account look like spare change."
"Care, really?" Bonnie groans.
"What? We are driving to a castle, and the security check at the front of this property was miles behind us...Elijah," she suddenly addresses the man in the passenger seat next to the driver, "I didn't mean to insult you or say anything rude, but I was just realizing how much money can be made just by not dying. I mean, I've been able to pocket a little extra thanks to a decrease in beauty products and gas mileage; if you even had like, a penny or whatever the equivalent was from when you were a human, you'd be a billionaire."
"I regret to inform you that this property is in fact a manor. However, yes, immortality does have its financial benefits," he concedes. "With time and careful planning, I can imagine you will see this is the case for you."
"That means not splurging on Modcloth purchases," intones Bonnie, and Elena has to keep herself from laughing.
The dirt road has been keeping parallel to a river that curls around the edge of the fortified manor they are approaching, but the path suddenly veers, angling towards the opposite side of the tall stone fences, and to an intricate but sturdy looking pair of gates. Above the ironwork atop the fencing, an austere and sprawling building of age-darkened red brick and lead-paned windows pushes upward. To the side of the two-story stone fence, and edging the river where it wraps around the property, is a sprawling, breath-taking garden, dusted in snow.
It looks like it belongs in the English countryside rather than Bulgaria (Yes, Bulgaria. The panic over being in the country illegally is still alive and well in anyone who isn't a vampire).
"Shit," compliments Bree.
Beside Elena, Maggie drops her head into her hands. Truth be told, Elena feels some parental embarrassment as well.
"Madresfield Court's design was inspired heavily by this home, " explains (it's totally boasting, Elena know, just done in a classy manner) Elijah. "Inversely, Pulham and Son's work there inspired the gardens here."
"Gardens as in plural?" Elena can hear Caroline's eyebrows shoot upward.
Soon enough they pull up to the gate and Elijah rolls down his window, and the older man who hurries out speaks rapidly in what Elena assumes is Bulgarian, and she hears the blond vampire's name mentioned. The gatekeeper pokes his head in, and those in the backseat tense in a synchronized gesture of apprehensions. While she cannot understand the man, his warm, good natured tone carries over. He repeats himself in English, at Elijah's softly worded request: an invitation into the home.
"The home proper carries to the gate itself; an invitation is required...another line of security," explains Elijah. "The family living here have been in my employ for countless generations; they are paid handsomely and understand the discretion I desire. They also drink vervain routinely, and have access to a continuing supply should any of you require."
It turns out most of the Krall family speaks English, and they are all broad smiles and hospitality as they help the group into the house. In short order they are whisked away to bedrooms in the East Wing (Caroline's remark was "See? I told you, it's a castle!" upon hearing this), a section of the home that is kept prepared at all times for Elijah and his guests.
Bree shoulders quickly past Elena and Maggie declaring "Uh, no," in a tone that brooks no argument, and drops her bag of supplies down onto the second bed in the room with a declarative thump. Bree's other suitcase is sitting on the embroidered duvet already delivered. "I asked Elijah to make this a mother-daughter room, since you're a flight risk. Aimee might have had surprise on her side back at the house- "
(Or magic. The Petrova Fire seems to be able to transform a scrawny girl into a linebacker when needed.)
"-but I've got eyes in the back of my head when it comes to you, Margaret Emily LaForte."
Maggie's eyes are as wide as saucers.
And with that Elena retreats from the room because it looks like her friend is in for one of those 'These Are The Rules' sort of talks, and makes for the open door beside the LaForte's accommodations. She's more than surprised to find Bree following, determined, in her wake.
"Coming to see your room," the older woman says, too brightly to be honest. She closes the door and launches into the questions before Elena can even look around.
"What is really going on between you two?"
Playing dumb will only aggravate Bree, so she takes a deep breath and lets it out. "I've told you everything, Bree: Elijah initially wanted my help to kill Klaus and we came to an agreement. Since then, we've continued to work together when the situation calls for it...but there's been times we've both done things we're not proud of to the other. The last time around resulted in both of us risking the other's life to try to protect our families. It's...it's complicated, but I consider him a friend, I guess?"
Bree hold her gaze, steady. "Is that really all?"
"Yes!" she responds, exasperated.
"Because the two of you are giving off...'vibes'." Elena echoes this phrase back blandly and Bree nods. "Yes, 'vibes'. I'm not Lucy or Bonnie or Mags; I call them 'vibes' and I'm seeing them between you two."
The older woman crosses her arms, and looks to the floor, appearing to deliberate over whatever she is about to say. "I'm not your mother. I can't tell you what to do or not do, but...just don't let whatever is going on distract you. I know I don't need to remind you of your promise. Will this possibly prevent us from getting Lucy back?"
Elena shakes her head. "Not at all." She squares her shoulders and says the next words out loud for the first time. "I'm going to hand myself over to Klaus, please don't think I won't. I've been prepared to do that before – I went through with it before. I-I'm," at this she falters, feeling her throat close over a little as panic starts to grip, "I'm going to die, if that's what it takes."
There is genuine remorse on Bree's face. For the most part, the promise they've held her to is harmless, but it very well may kill her. Bree's done a lot of things – she tried to have Damon killed – but this will be the first time (that Elena knows of, at least) where she's played a direct hand in someone's death.
Heart fluttering in her chest, stomach slightly queasy, she takes a second to collect herself before saying the next part. "But you've got to promise me you won't breathe a word of this to anyone, Bree. Klaus, my friends, none of them can know it's me. The last time we were in a situation like this, Klaus had a lot of back up plans, and we're going to need some of our own. No matter what happens, nothing will happen to Maggie."
The witch nods her head, almost frantically, and tries to discretely wipe at the tears that are starting to spill down her cheeks. "Please know that I hope it doesn't come to that, to you dying," she says, pleads really, in a quiet voice. "You've got to know that we love you, honey."
Elena can't think of anything to say, so she steps forward and hugs Bree, who squeezes her tightly. A maternal kiss is pressed to the top of her head, and then the bartender is stepping back, clearing her throat.
"Alright, get your crap unpacked and then knock on the door between the rooms," she says, and points behind them. Elena twists around and notices the door on the wall between their rooms – the door's paneling mimics the walnut walls, and it's nearly hidden.
"Conjoined bedrooms. Feels like home." Elena's forced cheerfulness does not go unnoticed.
"That one guy, Andrei, I think? He told me the rooms are soundproofed but," Bree pauses and brandishes a large Ziplock baggie filled with sage, "just in case." Elena gives her an appreciative look and reaches for them, but Bree retracts the bag for a second. "I expect you to be drinking vervain, too. Get freaky all you want, but nothing with your blood. There's some tea bags and some vervain oil in there, too."
It's like getting condoms from your Mom. Elena feels her face burning as she takes the bag from her. "You're handling all of this really well," she observes as Bree starts to leave the room through the concealed door.
Bree turns. "We have a plan, and we have the Petrova Fire on our side," she explains, then admits: "I'm trying to handle this as best I can, but I'll probably end up breaking down at some point. If that happens, I promise, I won't let on to your secret."
"Thank you," Elena responds.
(Bree has never gone up against Klaus. She has no idea what he can do. Elena won't hold it against her if she breaks that promise.)
The door closes and Elena has a few minutes to herself as she opens her bags up and starts to unpack, and to survey her room.
It's gorgeous – every room she's seen so far has been. Thick carpet muffles the ancient, protesting floorboards underfoot, and what isn't paneled with mahogany has been painted a forest green. Beams span the ceiling, and the wood that was used to construct the massive four poster bed is only a slightly lighter shade than that of the rest of the room. The curtains on the bed are velvet, heavy stuff that's a dream to feel when she rubs her fingers over it, and the duvet is so invitingly dense she wants to crawl onto the bed immediately. A quick search discovers that there are several closets, and a bathroom that's been entirely renovated with stainless steel and cream-colored tiles hidden behind other paneled doors. The fireplace is far enough away from the bed that it's safe, but still allows the roaring fire's heat to warm a sleeper.
With little time to pack before they'd left, it doesn't take long to pull everything out and start to try to find spots for the items. She makes her way to a low chest of drawers that face the bed, and upon opening the top drawers finds her suspicions confirmed.
This is Elijah's room, judging from the letters and other momentos in the drawer (she's going to have to ask him about the faded concert ticket stubs she spied in there, if she gets a chance). She realizes that Bree and Maggie's room (which has no windows), is probably one of the safest in this wing, and that because it's attached to this bedroom, he reasoned this would be more appropriate.
Everyone gathers in the foyer for a tour of the manor, and while most of the home has seen generations of the Kralls grow up and seems downright homey, Elena can see how the East Wing was once home to Elijah, and why he would be comfortable here. There is a formal library, but his bedroom is filled with books as well. It is situated to look out over the gardens and the river. It seems quiet, peaceful even.
Dinner is served to them in the formal dining hall, and they all collect around one end of the table to have some delicious, home cooked food that Elena's unable to pronounce but definitely able to appreciate. Elijah does not join them, but shortly after she returns to her room, there's a knock on the door.
She half expects it to be Bonnie or Caroline. She's tried to play up 'Aimee''s shyness, and allowed Maggie to take the lead in trying to chat with the two young women from Mystic Falls. Caroline had shared the fact that she was a vampire back on the plane, and Maggie had looked over at her friend worriedly.
Two years of teaching a person how to stake a vampire, and they think you've got something against them. Go figure.
At one point in the conversation, she finds a chance to assure Caroline she knows that 'there are good vampires, just like there are bad humans', and things are a little less anxious. Since then, the four young women have been sharing light conversation, but things are so stressful, hidden beneath the showy hospitality Maggie is fidgety. This waiting game, holding their breath until Klaus catches on, makes them nervous.
So Elena goes to answer the door and is surprised, but relieved, to find Elijah on the other side.
"May I come in?" he asks quietly.
She steps back and allows him to step past her. "It's your room," she responds once the door is shut. She crosses to the door to the LaForte's room and locks it before using her Bic lighter to start burning sage.
"You noticed," he murmurs, looking around. Elijah looks uneasy, but takes in the room in a detached manner. "I hope you understand why this seemed the best accommodations for you three."
"Of course, and thank you," she replies, and leans against a bedpost. "So," she sighs, feeling nervous about the conversation about to take place, "we have a lot to talk about."
"Yes we do," he agrees, and Elena is glad she's leaned against the bedpost, because being the sole target of Elijah Mikaelson's attention is the sort of thing that makes you forget how to breathe. The man is older than the country she calls home, and he finds her important enough to just...focus on her.
It makes her want to be worth it.
It makes her feel like she is worth it.
"But I have one request, before we start." He licks his lips, the movement is the only thing that betrays he feels some sort of hesitation. "If we are to be as open and honest as I think we both wish to be, I have one simple request."
She dips her head subtly, a small gesture to bid him to name it.
"Let me see you, Elena."