The limo car door slams behind Bonnie and she postures herself onto the leather seat opposite her vampire companion, ignoring his gaze.
She is the one everyone wants to say goodbye to; the one after the party that everyone wants to hug and kiss, her apple cheeks wet with kisses. Even Marcel dawdles near the limousine, telling little stories and jokes to hear Bonnie laugh while the dark-haired vampire waits in the shadows of the car.
It was well past the witching hour and the couple had yet again ended a night of drinking and revelry (as what Elijah calls it) as the glamorous hangers-on to the King of New Orleans.
Elijah requests that the driver raise the divider and the driver complies, the black bullet-proof glass rising as Bonnie smiles a thank you before the driver disappears.
She shoots a scowl at Elijah, "Couldn't you tell I was ready to go?"
Another quarrel.
It seemed like whenever they had to encounter Marcel there was to be a fight immediately after.
Elijah slides out of his jacket and begins to un-cuff his sleeves, "Yes, of course I did." He states receiving another death stare from the witch, "And if it were up to me then we would have gone home hours ago, but as you are well aware, Bonnie, we are obligated to accommodate our host."
Bonnie wraps her arms around herself, the long velvet sleeves catching tears that were silently sliding down her face.
A crisp linen handkerchief finds its way onto her lap and she crushes it in her hands. "I hate him."
"I know you do, and if I had known what he had planned for those witches then I would have never accepted his invitation. And if it is any consolation, he at the very least let them live."
She snorts, "Well there's that." She wrings the small piece of fabric in her hands, staring out the window, thinking of those girls he lined up in the ballroom and how she couldn't save them.
"Stop it." She whispers catching his solemn likeness in the glass. "Stop staring at me like you feel what I feel when you don't."
There is a sigh behind her and then the dip of the leather as Elijah moves to be near her, but not too near, never too near.
"I realize you do not know me as intimately as you may think you know Antoinette, or even Niklaus, but I assure you, I am heartbroken." He says softly to the back of Bonnie's head.
She's pissed but she doesn't want to rehash this argument with Elijah.
Anger is rolling through her veins for having followed his lead.
What about the witches?
Elijah's plan was reasonable, he lectured that progress should be incremental if it is to be lasting. He persuaded her that they needed time to set up a monarchy that would be more inclusive of New Orleans's magical subjects.
But after witnessing what she had seen in the ballroom, the witches' screams and eyes pleading, she thinks of Antoinette's words.
Ain't no negotiating with a vampire, the only thing they understand is a stake.
She tries to hold back the fresh tears but her shoulders give her away and vibrate with her silent sob, and she is so damn grateful that Elijah is so proper because if he touches her she will have to feel the weight of her betrayal.
"He's a monster."
"He was not always a monster, he was actually quite a compassionate and precocious young man before we ruined him," Elijah's voice trailing in remembrance of a young Marcel who followed him around the estate wanting him to teach him a verse or a piece of music. "Besides, you and I both know that if Niklaus were King those girls would be dead."
She bristles at his comment, fixes her eyes on the street lights.
Elijah can barely stifle his amusement, "Oh, come now, I know you adore my brother, and I am pledged to him for the eternity of my life, but let us not play dumb abo -."
She cuts him off, whipping her head around to glare at him, "I know who Klaus is."
Elijah slightly bows his head, "Good. He needs someone like you to know him," He says smoothly, staring into the darkness of her eyes. And even though he knows first-hand the devastation that can come from loving anyone or thing that Niklaus covets for himself, he presses his thumb at a wet, tear-stained spot on her cheek.
He was not completely lying when he told her on that first night that he wanted to be some kind of friend to her.
"After tomorrow night you will not have to subject yourself to one Marcel Gerard ever again," He assures her as if that fact should be enough to calm her down.
The limo pulls onto the cobblestone driveway and the driver opens the door and she bypasses his outstretched hand.
And Elijah's calls out to her, asking her to wait.
She is steps ahead of the vampire. She doesn't want to talk. She wants to be left alone. She wants to disappear into the confinement of her bedroom. She wants to hide her crumbling face behind a shower curtain.
Her heels clack against the marble and then his voice hits her back before she escapes up the spiraled stairs.
"Have you considered the possibility Marcel unnerves you because he reminds you of Klaus,"
Author's Note
Thank you for reading.