Sleeping was a surprisingly hard activity in the Salvatore house, which was surprising given that the brother's had supplied Bonnie with the most comfortable bed she had ever laid on. She had been in the house not even twenty-four hours, and she was already feeling homesick. She missed her Grams and the filthy streets. She missed the other witches who would greet her hello as she passed them, the small customs of politeness. She missed her Grams.
The day had flown by. Managing to produce numerous cloaking spells, one while the people involved were across town and on the move, was nearly impossible. Bonnie suspected Damon knew that when he called for her. He must truly have been desperate, for there was no guarantee that it would have worked. He seemed very impressed with her skill, but that did not stop him from acting like a complete and utter arse. After one spell request came another, and another, and another. Bonnie was just grateful he had given her the morning to rest while the prepared their stories for the evening to come. Bonnie could not say she was looking forward to it.
Her room was too suffocating and full of too many nice things. Every time she saw a jewel or a fancy dress she felt a little sick to her stomach. She was doing the worst thing a witch could do, giving away her magic in exchange for coin. She was not better than a harlot.
The worst part was that she knew she should feel guilty, but she did not.
So Bonnie found herself roaming the Salvatore manor until she stumbled upon the library tucked in the corner of the east wing. She found solace in the books. She had never been much of a reader, but that was mainly because books were expensive and hard to acquire. She liked the idea that even if she was stuck behind walls for the rest of her life, she could explore the world through the pages of literature. She had just picked up a copy of Gulliver's Travels when she heard the steps of someone approaching. She hastened to put the book back but stopped when she spotted Jeremy Gilbert in the doorway.
He stared at her as if she was a ghost. Enzo had brought him over a couple hours after Bonnie's request. Bonnie had been avoiding him.
"I was looking for you," Jeremy said, his hand awkwardly going into his trouser pocket. He looked at her. She was wearing one of the fancy dresses the Salvatore's had given her. Jeremy looked as awkward as she felt.
"How are you doing?" Bonnie asked. The distance between them was strange. Foreign.
The corner of Jeremy's lip lifted upwards in a tired smile. He rubbed the back of his head, messing his already ruffled locks.
"Well I just found out that my sister is the world's most wanted doppelganger and that my best friend is a witch," Jeremy said. He let out a chuckle. "Oh, and did I mention there were also vampires involved?"
"I might have heard about that," replied Bonnie, feeling lighter as she let out the small joke. Jeremy smiled back at her. He took a few tentative steps forward. When he reached her, he made to hug her and Bonnie immediately returned it. She let out a long breath. After a moment, they parted.
"How long have you been a..?" Jeremy looked at her as if hoping she would supply the right word.
"Witch? Since birth," Bonnie replied. She raised her brows at him. "Mistress? Since yesterday."
Jeremy's face flushed. Bonnie could only imagine what that word implied to him, but she didn't have it in her to correct him. If he thought so little of her to think she would give her body to any man for some coin, he clearly did not know her as well as she always hoped.
"Now isn't this charming."
Bonnie and Jeremy turned to see Damon walking into the room, his smirk sickening as he looked between the two of them.
"A little library romance. You'll have to be more careful, baby Gilbert. I won't always take too kindly to you canoodling with my date." He stopped in front of Jeremy, putting a hand on his shoulder in a way that would normally seem brotherly, but came off as aggressive. " But, it seems like everybody in this house but myself is determined to keep your doppelganger sister happy. Only lord knows why. Personally, I don't really care, but I suggest you go back to your room and stay there until I figure out how you can do something useful."
The look the vampire gave Jeremy left no room for argument. Jeremy gave Damon a cold stare. He shrugged his shoulder away from the older man's hand and walked out, giving one last look to Bonnie. Bonnie watched him go, before fixing a glare at her new master.
"Was that really necessary?" she asked. Damon shrugged.
"Oh, I'm sorry, did I interrupt a moment?" Damon asked, feigning regret. His smirk returned as quickly as it left. "He's not good enough for you."
"And what would you know about that?" Bonnie asked, annoyed.
"I know he's a boy," Damon started. He walked closer to her until he was right in front of her. Bonnie had to look up to meet his gaze, something she never had to do with Jeremy. "A mortal one at that. I know you are a witch, a rather attractive one if I do say so myself."
He leaned in. His eyes were playful. Bonnie could feel his breath on her face.
"A girl like you belongs with a man," Damon continued.
Bonnie kept her glare.
"Like you?" she asked.
"If you wanted," Damon whispered. His hand cupped her cheek. Bonnie pushed it away and walked over to the bookshelves, determined to look at the spines.
"Not going to happen," Bonnie said. She collected Gulliver's Travels from where she had placed it, along with a few other novels and plays that caught her attention.
Damon did not seem bothered by her rejection. If anything he looked amused.
"Did you want something?" Bonnie asked, resting the pile of books on her hip. The vampire sat in one of the empty seats, watching her.
"Just wanted to make sure you were prepared for tonight," Damon said loftily. He looked at the books on her hip and then pointed to one of the shelves. "If you have Shakespeare you should pick up some Moliere."
Bonnie skeptically went to the bookshelf Damon pointed at and shuffled through the books.
"What's there to be prepared for?" Bonnie asked as her fingers grazed the spines. "A ball full of evil and entitled vampires? Sounds like a typical Friday night."
"I'm glad you think so," said Damon. "Because we are going to need to make everything seem as normal as possible if we don't want Klaus personally ripping off our heads before they begin the first waltz."
Bonnie turned to eye the vampire. His gaze had become serious. He was staring out the window. Although his eyes looked out at the property, Bonnie could tell his mind was far away from how green the shrubbery looked.
"What is the deal with this ball," Bonnie asked.
"It started only fifty years ago," Damon replied. "Klaus and his family throw it every year, inviting the most prominent vampire families to come. It's supposed to be a token of peace, a reminder that we can all be civil to one another. It's really a way for everyone to show off and establish their power in the community. Any family wealthy enough to have a witch will wear her on their arm, bonus points if she's nice to look at."
Damon shot her a look and Bonnie rolled her eyes.
"I did not sign your contract to become a trinket to be paraded around," Bonnie said.
"Well, I didn't sign up to take in some refugee doppelganger, but fate had other plans," Damon countered. He got up, heading towards the door.
"We'll leave around 7:00," he said. He paused, turning to look back at her with his annoying smirk. Bonnie wanted to hex him. "Make sure to wear something pretty."
Rebekah closed her eyes as one of the servants applied more powder to her face. She sat in her room, one of the most lavish corners of the manor. She was dressed to the nines. She had the gown custom made by her favorite French designer, a rare lilac died silk that was sure to stand out amongst the crowd. When it came to her family, Rebekah was left little of her own. The ball, despite what Elijah told Nick, was for her and her alone. Sure, alliances were secured along the way, but the party was Rebekah's chance to be a normal girl for a night. A princess in a castle full of murderers, bloodsuckers, and witches who all would rather see them dead. It was a bloody kingdom, but a kingdom nonetheless.
"That will be all, Mary," Rebekah said as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her beautiful blonde lock had been piled high on her head, no wig needed. Her cheeks were as rosy as a virgin maiden, and her lips juicy like the pomegranate used to chain Persephone to the underworld. Rebekah didn't need a pomegranate to take her to hell. She was born into Hell.
"You can come in Marcel," Rebekah called once the maid left. The handsome vampire walked into the room, hands behind his back as he approached her.
"You're talking to me again?" Marcel asked. He stood beside her as she sat at her vanity.
His hand found the diamond necklace she had yet to put on. He held it in front of his face, a small smile forming on his features as he rubbed his finger along the silver chain. "I gave this to you two hundred years ago. I believe last you told me you threw it in the ocean. Seems like you found it again."
Marcel looked back up at her, clearly gloating over the situation. Rebekah flushed, and it had nothing to do with maidenhood or the rogue on her cheeks. Marcel was Rebekah's one true love. Klaus had found him a hundred years after they had turned. He had been a boy then, but Rebekah fell in love with the man he became. She had never met anyone so just or strong. Unlike her family who fought for selfishness and elicited fear, Marcel fought for justice and lead with respect. He was also the first person to love her as much as she loved him.
Klaus couldn't stand it. He daggered her the first time he heard of their romance. She woke up fifty years later under the stipulation that Klaus never hear of their names whispered again in the same breath underneath pretenses of romance. Luckily for her, the Mikaelsons had always excelled at secrets.
Until they hadn't.
Klaus discovered their romance after inklings of it. He had surprised them all when, with his new witch proudly presented on his arm, he announced his approval of Rebekah and Marcel's relationship. Rebekah had called it off with Marcel a month later.
Because, though she loved her brother, she knew what he most desired: control. He controlled Elijah through his guilt. He controlled Finn through his depression. And just after a few months, he was able to finally control Kol through a pretty little witch signed to his name. Rebekah couldn't let him use Marcel to control her.
She grabbed the necklace from him, clutching it close to her chest.
"What can I say, some jewelry is too pretty to throw away, even when the person who gave it to you is far less charming," Rebekah deadpanned.
Marcel chuckled, but it was humorless.
"Just when your brother publically approves of our relationship, you turn me away," said Marcel. "All so you can risk your neck by sneaking around with the Salvatore boy."
Rebekah sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyes grew wide, and she whipped around to stare at Marcel in disbelief.
"How do you know about that?" she asked, all pretenses of coldness gone in her need for an answer.
Rebekah had been seeing Stefan for the past year, ever since he pulled her aside at the past year's ball. She cared for the boy, but not in the way she knew Marcel was imagining. Stefan was nothing more than a distraction, a way for her to get back at Klaus even if it was in the privacy of country inns and hidden alleys.
"I have eyes in this city, eyes that report to me way before they say anything to Klaus," Marcel said. "Are you really willing to risk everything, being stuffed in a box for who knows how long, for some stupid kid, Rebekah."
Rebekah clenched her fist.
"You don't know what you're talking about," she said. "And it isn't as if you haven't had your share of strumpets since our parting."
"My 'strumpets,' as you so lovingly call them, didn't put me in danger of being killed by Klaus," said Marcel. His voice suddenly grew soft. "Beks, after all these years. You are going to risk everything on him?"
Although that was his only question, Rebekah knew what he was actually asking.
Were you not still willing to risk everything on me?
"No," Rebekah said. She did not know which question she was answering. She got up, forcing herself to school her features. If she looked at Marcel for too long, she knew she would crack. She loved him too much to crack.
"We should get going," Rebekah said, she held out her hand, still not looking in the younger vampire's direction. "We have a party to go to. Will you escort me to the ballroom?"
After a few seconds, Marcel took her hand. They walked out in silence. Maybe Marcel knew what she was doing. Maybe he did not. They were both playing their games, and until someone won they were left to what they did best: keeping secrets.
Damon looked at the Mikaelson's house with disdain as their carriage pulled forward. He had to give the Original vampire props for style. He had only ever seen such beautiful architecture in the heart of Paris, but no doubt the design was done by the hands of Marcel and Klaus. They always wanted to be kings. For a while, Damon had been content with their ruling, as long as he got part of the action.
It had been a long time since he lived in the manor. He remembered it well. It had been his first real home. His father made sure that Italy was never home for Damon. A part of him wondered if he would be in Marcel's shoes if he had never let himself become swayed by Katherine's charms. She had Katerina then. But much had changed in two hundred years.
Damon looked around at the people sharing his carriage. His brother sat next to Lexi. The girl looked horribly bored as she stared out the window. Stefan looked as though he was wallowing in angst, so not out of the usual. Bonnie sat next to him. He had a hard time reading her emotions. She was an interesting thing. She was as strong as he hoped, but her stubbornness was going to prove itself to be troublesome if it was used against him.
Although he had to admit, the witch did clean up nice. Rose had picked a beautiful shiny, olive green dress for the girl to wear. It had long sleeves that draped at the end of her arms. The neckline was low but tasteful. Instead of wearing something underneath that widened her hips to house like proportions as was the trend. But instead had opted for a more natural shape. He hair had been curled and pulled up, leaving a few strands to frame her face. Damon was pleased to see that the maids had opted out of putting any rogue on her face. She was lovely enough without the help of cosmetics.
"Don't try to look too excited for tonight," Damon said to the group. "Wouldn't want Klaus to think we were too eager to spend the evening in his presence."
Lexi quirked a smile. Damon smirked back. Lexi could at least be fun when she wasn't bent on leading them all on a moral pilgrimage.
"I'm sure Bonnie's quiet has more to do with the fact she is stewing in anguish over the thought of having you as a dance partner," Lexi said. She gave Bonnie a kind look and patted her knee, much like a mother. "Don't worry, he might be sickening to look at, but he won't step on your toes."
Damon rolled his eyes. The carriage stopped in front of the doors, and one of the Mikaelson's footmen opened their door. Stefan and Lexi headed out. Bonnie made to follow them, but Damon grabbed her wrist. She turned, giving him an annoyed look.
"Enzo assures me that your Grams is doing well," Damon said, not quite sure what compelled him to tell her at this moment. He told himself he needed her focus if they were going to make it through the night. The witch's eyes widened in surprise. Damon continued. "He gave her some blood and a proper doctor to stay at her side. Moved her to someplace nice."
Bonnie looked at Damon. Her expression was so curious. It was a mixture of gratitude and disbelief, and some form of stubbornness that Damon could not read. She just nodded and headed out.
Curious thing indeed.
If Bonnie thought the Salvatore's home had been nice, it was nothing compared to the Mikaelsons. She had heard of places in France with gold embossed against the wallpaper, and white pillars that held together twists and turns of architecture, handcrafted and painted with angels and cherubs. Everything about the Mikaelsons screamed elegance and light. It was a wonder how such dark and powerful creatures could live amongst such beauty.
"Like what you see?" Damon asked as he led her inside. He wiggled his brows. "Fun fact, my room was right up there."
He pointed to the staircase as they passed along with the other couples. Bonnie looked at him with surprise.
"You lived here?" she asked. She tried to imagine the dark brooding figure that was Damon amongst the creams and pastels of the Mikaelson palace. "When did you-?"
Damon put a finger to his lips as they kept walking. Bonnie made a note to inquire further about the past of her new master.
They arrived at the ballroom, a huge open space. It was already full of people dressed to the nines in lavish gowns and tailored suits. It looked like a quilt of silk gowns and powdered wigs. Bonnie could make out Stefan and Lexi already out in the crowd. She could see figures sitting up top, their bodies' outlines behind a curtain. Bonnie might have been paranoid, but she felt as if they were watching her.
Damon whispered something in a servant's ear, and the servant turned to speak to the crowd.
"Presenting Damon Salvatore, Master of the Salvatore family, and his Mistress, the positively enchanting Miss Bonnie Bennett."
Damon smirked as Bonnie's jaw dropped.
"What?" Damon said as they made their way down the steps.
"Enchanting?" Bonnie asked.
"It's a joke, Miss Bennett," Damon said. "You should try one sometime."
Bonnie rolled her eyes. She noticed that many people had stopped their conversations to watch her and Damon once they arrived on the ballroom floor. A few people whispered to one another, a couple of men roamed over her body with their eyes with smirks. Even from a distance, Bonnie could sense they were all vampires. Her blood went cold. Did they know? Was their cover already blown?
"They are just impressed with how stunning you look," Damon explained, sensing her building anxiety. He waved to a few attractive men with hungry eyes, expertly leading Bonnie through the crowd. "Which was obvious, if you didn't already know."
"Well, it is weird," Bonnie said, raising her head high in defiance as she met a few of their eyes. She relaxed slightly as they found Lexi and Stefan, each nursing a champagne flute.
"Nice entrance," Lexi said. "Did you have to be so obvious?"
Damon shrugged.
"I want them to know what I'm paying for," Damon said. He lowered his voice. "Besides. If we were up to no good, we certainly wouldn't want to announce to the world we had a witch now would we?"
He gave Lexi a tight smile and raised his drink before lifting it to his lips and taking a long sip. Stefan said nothing, looking moodier with each passing second.
Lexi looked at Bonnie.
"Can you believe these guys?" Lexi said. "I hate to crush any of your hopes, but they are like this all of the time. "
The smile she gave made Bonnie let out a small laugh. Lexi was far more comfortable to talk to than either of the Salvatore brothers. Bonnie had a feeling that Lexi kept both brothers in control, or at least stopped them from killing each other.
"Why is no one dancing?" Bonnie asked. She had never been to a ball before, but she had always imagined it would involve more music and movement. Her eyes trailed around the large room, stopping on a line of plainly dressed men and women against the wall, staring blankly out into the crowd. A vampire went up to one and took her arm, leading her out of the ballroom behind a veil.
"No one dances until the Master of the Home makes his appearance," Lexi explained. Her eyes followed Bonnie's gaze. "Refreshments."
It didn't take Bonnie long to understand. Her lips pressed together in a tight O, and she looked away with disgust.
"Don't tell me you're squeamish," Damon teased.
"Not squeamish, appalled," Bonnie quipped back. She was about to add that she had yet to see one of the humans that had been led into the room disappear when the next announcement made her stop.
"Presenting, Joshua Rosza and his date, the lovely Caroline Forbes."
Bonnie turned around to stare at the staircase, her heavy skirts whipping around her. Descending the staircase was none other than Caroline, her arm looped around the young vampire. She wore a beautiful, royal blue gown that was far too expensive for a shop owner's daughter. She smiled, and even from afar, Bonnie could tell by the way she tightly gripped onto her partner's arm that she was nervous.
On instinct, Bonnie began to make her way towards her friend but was stopped when Damon appeared in front of her.
"Where do you think you are going?"
"That's my friend, my human friend," Bonnie said, her voice rushed as she tried to keep her eyes on Caroline and Josh. They were moving through the crowd.
"So?" Damon quirked an eyebrow.
"So I am not going to stand here and let her become a vampire's next meal."
Bonnie turned, fully determined to weave through the large crowd to get to her friend when suddenly everyone seemed to stop. The crowd turned to face the front of the ballroom. There, at the top of the staircase stood Davina. She was dressed in the most luxurious red gown Bonnie had ever seen. Next to her, looking as important as the king himself, was a man that Bonnie had never seen but knew instantly.
"Presenting the Lord Niklaus and his Mistress, Davina Claire."
A/N: Debating giving this story another shot. Let me know if you would be interested in seeing it continue.
