Chapter 002 – Repeating History
Sienna ran back to their house as fast as she could, feeling her strength return with each panting breath. The unbearable throbbing in her leg and elbow was gone, her head no longer spinning, her body no longer bruised, beaten, and sore. As she rounded the side of their house, she (physically) felt good as new – the only visible traces of the violent altercation etched in the stains marring her muddied dress and the blood on her lips.
Rory's anguished cry sliced through the air, and as she rounded the side of their house, she was met with an alarming scene: their father dragging Rory across the grass by his hair, the stump used for firewood and a grimly gleaming axe nearby. Her father's expression was a volatile blend of anger and exasperation, an unnerving cocktail of fury and numbness she had never seen before.
"Father, please, stop! Please, I'm sorry!" Rory's pleas echoed in her ears. She raced forward, her voice a commanding bellow. "Let him go!"
He glared at his eldest daughter – his only true child – and threw Rory roughly against the tree stump.
"Watch your mouth," he warned, his voice laden with fatigue. "I have half a mind to kill you, too. To just start over."
Sienna slid to a stop, positioning herself squarely between them on instinct. She wanted to inspect Rory – make sure he was okay – but experience taught her that she couldn't take her eyes off of him for even a moment.
Their father was a large, burly man, well over six feet in height, wide and stocky in a healthy combination of muscle and fat. He was unbelievably strong. Once, when she was a child, he took her rabbit hunting and they encountered a bear. He attacked the bear before it moved on them. It slashed him up – his face and body now heavily scarred – but in the end, he lived and the bear didn't. She remembered thinking him a hero back then – an unstoppable force, the strongest man in the world.
She contemplated her father's words carefully, trepidation coursing through her. "What do you mean by 'start over'?" she asked, fearing the ominous undertones. It was only then that she noticed someone missing. "Where's Mom?"
Immediately triggered, he grabbed the nearby axe and brought it down towards her with fierce determination. Sienna narrowly sidestepped the lethal blow. She scooped Rory up in the process, retreating to put distance between them.
Why is he doing this? Usually, his beatings were done by hand. A brutal fistfight, where her goal was more about endurance than victory. She knew she lacked the strength to defeat him, but if she could withstand his assault, he would eventually tire, his anger dissipating with his stamina.
But today was different. He was already wielding a weapon and exhaustion clung to him like a shroud. Oddly, his countenance lacked the ferocity she had come to expect; he seemed spent. He looked… done.
She looked down at Rory – he had a black eye and split lip, but otherwise looked okay. She set him down and pulled the end of her dress up, cursing when she realized her dagger was no longer strapped to her leg.
"Rory, go inside and hide," Sienna instructed, watching their father approach with slow, heavy steps. "Cover your ears and close your eyes. Don't come out, no matter what you hear."
Rory nodded quickly and darted towards the house.
"Where is mom?" she asked again. "What did the doctor say?" They had only left to see the village doctor to begin with. She'd been sick, but not so sick that she would have…
"Your whore mother was pregnant," he spat, the venom in his voice revealing a hidden truth. "I killed her as soon as we left the village."
Sienna's body locked up, a frigid shock coursing through her as the enormity of his confession broke something inside her that she didn't know she had. She was overcome with a flood of memories, both good and bad, of her mother. The stories she would tell, the meals they shared, their shared trauma and tears. Her mother wasn't perfect – she was quite broken, actually – but she didn't deserve this. Dying at the hands of the man she loved most – how could he?
"I won't tolerate another bastard child," he declared, his voice filled with a sickening resolve. "I won't live with this blatant disrespect!"
In that moment, the depth of his cruelty struck Sienna like a hammer blow. Her breath caught in her throat as she grappled with the horrific reality of her mother's fate. The rage and despair welled up within her like a tempest, demanding retribution.
Once more, he swung at her, but Sienna's reflexes remained sharp. She deftly evaded the weapon and reached down to clutch a fist-sized rock from the ground. Tears blurred her vision as she fought to maintain her composure.
"You don't deserve respect," she growled, her voice laced with a chilling determination. Her grip on the rock tightened as she charged toward her father, her movements fueled by a seething rage. She swung her rocked hand with precision, targeting his chin with a swift and forceful uppercut. The impact sent him sprawling backward, crashing to the ground like a fallen tree. She didn't waste a second – she immediately jumped on top of him, slamming her fist into his face as fast and hard as she could. She landed several solid blows before he threw her off, turning to swing the axe at her again.
She rolled out of the way and stood in an instant, unleashing a powerful kick to his arm, forcing him to release the axe. It worked, so she promptly grabbed it herself, hoisting it to her chest. It was huge and heavy, too impractical to fight with. While her father could swing it carelessly with a single hand, she needed both and knew it would slow her down. But as she looked around for something better to defend herself with, she came up empty.
Her knuckles bled, but not as much as her father's face. Yet despite this, he somehow stood up looking unphased and uninjured, like she'd only inconvenienced him. And as he stood, glaring at her through the curtain of his own blood, she realized her greatest fear was now a reality. She had to kill him. If she didn't, he was going to kill her and Rory next. There was no other way this could go. But she'd never used a weapon against her father. She'd never struck him with intent to kill.
Tears stung her eyes, and her mind flashed to her mother. She wondered if he'd even bothered to bury her, what she must've been feeling when the doctor gave them the news. A baby – something meant to bring joy and love to a family – could only instill more fear. And while she had always resented her mother for not protecting them better, she knew that she was a sad, scared victim, too.
"Enough," he sighed, wiping some of the blood on his sleeve. He was annoyed. "You're ugly when you cry."
Sienna bit her lip, allowing her fury to bubble deep within her. That was something he used to tell her mother often.
"Don't worry, Father," Sienna responded, slowly. "I won't cry over you."
She lifted the axe and charged again, swinging it as fast and hard as she could at his torso. But the heavy tool slowed her considerably, and he was able to grab it mid-air and toss it away from her. She stumbled to regain her balance, but he used the moment to swing on her, closed fist meeting her rib cage with a resounding crack. Once, twice, three times before she fell, gasping for her stolen air as the hot pain flooded her torso. She coughed, and the iron taste of her own blood filled her throat and mouth.
He didn't let her regain herself before grabbing her by the hair, pulling her up to face him. He swung again, this time at her face, which she managed to half-block with her forearms. Aggravated by her defense, he swung her by her hair, sending her flying several feet away into a tree. She hit the tree hard, her back cracking against the bark before falling to land roughly on the ground below.
He walked towards her, steps heavy and motivated. Her whole body was on fire in pain. She knew she needed to be more strategic and she didn't have a lot of options.
In a desperate bid to incapacitate him, she grabbed a fistful of dirt and waited until he was above her to throw it at his face. He yelled as the dust filled his eyes, shutting them instinctively. She took his moment of disorientation to lean back on the ground and kick both his kneecaps as hard as she could. His knees cracked and one bent backward, broken.
He roared in pain as he fell, forcing his now-red eyes open to reach for her. He grabbed her leg and pulled her towards him, a new level of rage radiating from him. She pulled back, trying to free herself to no avail. Switching tactics, she started slamming her other foot into his face repeatedly. After a few blows, he caught her other leg and slid her towards him. She struggled to free herself, and when he brought her close, she slammed her fist into his nose, breaking it instantly. He hollered in pain again but didn't release her, and instead wrapped both hands around her neck and started to squeeze.
A familiar position, she brought her thumbs to his eyes and pushed back against them, digging her nails in as far and hard as she could. He squeezed her neck harder, trying to crush her throat. An intense stalemate, Sienna felt her strength faltering as consciousness slowly slipped away from her. With every ounce of strength she had left, she pushed harder into his eyes, finally forcing him to release her.
She gasped for air, scampering backward weakly to put distance between them. "Damn it, Sienna!" he shouted, rubbing his eyes. He struggled to stand with his broken leg, but still managed to do so. He was angry and exasperated. "Don't you get it? We don't have to do this. We are blood. With your whore mom and that bastard boy gone, we could be a real family."
Sienna scoffed, repulsed by the idea. "Mom and Rory aren't the problem – you are," she hissed, her voice raspy and broken from being strangled. She spat the pooling blood in her mouth at his feet. "My greatest shame is sharing a bloodline with you."
His eyes narrowed coldly. "Fine. Have it your way."
He limped forward, reaching for the once-discarded axe. Sienna's eyes widened – she hadn't noticed how close they were to it. She stumbled to stand, her breathing labored, her body in agony. Get up, get up, get up! She scolded herself desperately. Rory needs you!
He threw the axe. She jumped to the side, only partially missing his blow. It cut across her shoulder, tearing through both skin and muscle. Blood poured from the sizable gash at an alarming rate, and she immediately felt a wave of dizziness wash over her.
She forced herself to look up at him, and to her horror, she saw Rory running straight towards them, kitchen knife in hand, a determined look etched on his little face. He stopped in front of her, putting space between them as she had always done for him. Pointing the knife up to their father, his small body trembled. "S-Stop, Father!" he commanded, voice cracking, "J-just stop!"
He only growled in response, offended by the pathetic effort. He swung his closed fist at the tearful boy, and before Sienna could stop it, his fist cracked against Rory's cheek, sending him flying backward.
Sienna dragged herself to him, coughing blood. Rory lay unconscious, but she could see the rise and fall of his chest – he was still alive. "Pitiful," he spat, walking towards them one last time.
Sienna grit her teeth, infuriated. Her rage overpowered her pain, a renewed sense of purpose and adrenaline pumping through her. She grabbed Rory's knife from the ground and launched herself towards her father. He pulled back his arm to hit her, but she did an unexpected, sudden twirl in the other direction, gracefully sliding behind him. Back to back, she slammed the knife into the base of his spine as hard as she could and twisted it, then roughly pulled it out and did it again.
He cried out and fell forward, sprawled and unmoving on his stomach, face in the dirt as he grit his teeth in pain.
Sienna coughed, blood spraying from her mouth. She collapsed to her knees, choking on the blood in her throat. She grabbed the open gash on her arm and held it tightly, trying to stop the blood. She could feel consciousness slipping away... she could feel life slipping away.
Don't die, don't die, she thought, heaving in pain. It felt like she was drowning, the world spinning, her body aching. Rory will be all alone. Don't die, damnit!
She closed her eyes tight, forcing herself to exhale slowly and spit the blood in her mouth. Control, she instructed herself. Control yourself.
She opened her eyes slowly, surprised when she saw the on-looking demon from earlier in front of her. She rolled her eyes – of course, my fight isn't over yet.
"You've done it," he told her, gently. "You defeated your father and saved your brother."
Sienna could only whimper. Tears flooded her eyes. Sure, she killed her father – a heinous act in and of itself, so conflicting as her heart wrestles with the feelings of sorrow and relief. But, guilt-ridden and grieving, she had been too late to save her mother. And now, feeling fear as death crept closer towards her, she knew she saved Rory and failed him at the same time.
"This is going to sound quite strange," he continued, reaching out to help hold her upright. "You need to drink my blood now. It will heal you, just as Niklaus' blood healed you earlier."
Her brows furrowed, taking in his words. Earlier? She hadn't drunk any of his – oh. When she bit him. She recalled faintly how hurt she'd been after tangling with them in the forest, only to feel perfectly fine at the beginning of her battle against her father.
She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to decipher his motive. "Why? You want to fight me, too?" her tone was flat and accusing.
He smiled softly, "No, I do not wish to fight you," he said, reassuringly.
"Elijah, hurry up!" a woman's voice. Sienna traced the voice to the blonde woman from earlier. She and the man she'd fought earlier – Niklaus, he'd called him – had her father lifted off the ground, Niklaus sucking on his neck, the woman on his wrist. "He's almost dead – you're going to miss your chance!"
With a sudden realization, fear coursed through her body. She looked back to Rory, still unconscious a few feet away, still unharmed and uneaten. She turned weakly to the man in front of her, unable to move. "Don't hurt my brother," she said. "Eat me, but don't touch him."
He bit down on his wrist and held it out to her, near her mouth. "Neither you nor your brother will come to any harm. I will see to that myself," he said. "You have my word."
Sienna paused, searching his face for deception. She found none. He was tall and classically handsome, with sharp features and a strong, chiseled jawline. His soft-looking brown hair fell to broad shoulders in soft waves. If they'd met in another life, she'd surely be smitten with him.
You have my word. His voice, heavy and authoritative with the weight of his promise, repeated in her mind. His expression was soft in his sincerity, and his eyes were equally captivating and earnest. She couldn't sense any dishonesty, and despite her untrusting nature, she was too tired to withstand him.
"If you're lying," she said, leaning in to his wrist. "I'll kick your ass."
She heard him smile – almost chuckle – in response. "Of that, I have no doubt."
She pressed her lips to his wrist and suckled against his already-closing wound. The taste of his metallic blood mixed with the bitter taste of her own. She willed herself to ignore the flavor, pulling away after her second swallow.
Almost immediately she felt her body begin to rejuvenate. She watched in awe as the gaping gash on her shoulder closed before her very eyes, leaving not even a scar. The pain and pressure in her ribs, neck, and back deflated into nothing, and breathing quickly became easy again. She held her hands out, mystified as the skin on her bloodied knuckles seemed to magically layer over itself until all evidence of the wound hand vanished.
Sienna looked up, unable to mask her surprise. She was surprised when she saw the contentment on his face – he was clearly happy to see her better. But there was something deeper hiding under his gentlemanly gaze. She knew that look well – sadness? Guilt?
"Thank you," Sienna said. He stood and offered her his hand. Hesitantly she took it, standing with surprising ease.
"Ugh, he's dead," Rebekah announced, tossing Sienna's father to the side like a large piece of rubbish. "Now what are you going to eat, Elijah?" She sounded annoyed, but the question struck a cord in Sienna, realizing that there were only two other options – herself and Rory.
Sienna immediately grabbed the knife at her feet, distrust brewing. She backed closer to Rory, trying to keep her eyes on all three of them. She didn't miss the look of hurt flash across her savior's face, or the look of excitement on Niklaus' face.
"Relax, little phoenix," Niklaus said. "You're under the protection of Elijah's word." He flashed her a playful, mischievous smile. "You've never been safer."
She looked back to him – Elijah – trying again to read him. He had impeccable posture, somehow exuding authority and gentleness at the same time. He hadn't made any move toward her, and there was nothing aggressive, defensive, or even strategic, in his stance.
Slowly, she lowered her knife. He saved her and vowed to protect her, even after her altercation with his brother. Even after killing his other companion.
Humbling herself, Sienna took four small steps towards Elijah. He watched her patiently, surprised when she brought the knife to the palm of her hand, cutting a sizable line into her delicate skin. Elijah's body reacted with heat and hunger, his eyes darkening as he resisted his vampiric urge. He didn't move, only watched her with intense desire.
Sienna lifted her hand to him, offering him her blood, just as he had done for her. "It's the least I can do," she said.
He hesitated. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied easily, taking two more steps towards him. She now stood directly before him – her petite frame only inches from his towering one. Neither of them missed the vulnerability in her proximity – she was choosing to trust him with her life.
Gently, and without breaking eye contact, he took her hand, watching for any indication of revoked consent. His hand was strong and considerably larger than hers. As he brought her hand to his lips, he vehemently fought the urge to bite her, only sucking on the opening she'd made for him.
Sienna blushed as she saw his eyes roll back and close in pleasure. He pulled her closer, their bodies pressed together, feeling his lips massage against her skin, his tongue flicking across her palm. Her heart raced – she'd never experienced anything so intimate before.
Suddenly, he dropped her hand and pulled away, taking several steps back, looking slightly flustered. "Thank you," he said after a short pause.
At a loss for words, Sienna nodded. Her body felt warm and tingly, butterflies swarming in her stomach.
Suddenly, in a split-second flash, Sienna felt herself thrown back. "There you are," hissed a familiar voice before an intense, hot pain tore through her neck.
"Kol, no!" she heard Elijah yell, and then he was thrown off of her. She tried to breathe but couldn't – the drowning feeling was back. She choked, gargling her own blood as darkness flooded her vision and silence consumed her.