Cherry Wine

by Temperance Cain

Set after the events of season three's 'Our Town.' The night of the incident with Stefan and Elena on Wickery Bridge, the last thing Klaus expects to find is Elena Gilbert breaking into his house and drinking his cherry wine. Klena.

2. From Eden

Warning: Use of language in this chapter as well as canon-typical violence. Lyrics taken from Hozier's 'From Eden.'

---

'Honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago
Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on its sword
Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.'

---

'Please join the Mikaelson family this evening at seven o'clock for dancing, cocktails and celebration...'

Elena spun the gilt piece of cardstock in her palm, watching as the gold accent refracted the morning light coming in from her perch on her window seat, shimmering and ethereal. But the beauty of the invitation was lost under the threads of apprehension weaving through her, tightening her chest, making her head ache. Esther wanted to meet her, was throwing a ball under the seemingly innocuous pretext of a 'celebration,' but that seemed as likely as her newfound...whatever she had with Klaus. Esther, the woman who had, according to Rebekah, stood by while her husband physically abused her son and made the rest of their children live in constant fear of his temper bleeding through onto them. While she was glad that Stefan and Damon had finally returned the coffins, there was a part of her that almost wished they hadn't, that things could have stayed as they were.

There were new players on the board now, three Mikaelsons she had never met, and therefore didn't know what to expect, how to act. The eldest, Finn, had been daggered for over nine hundred years; he would have never known Katherine. But the other, Kol...there was a distinct possibility his aversion to doppelgängers would be as prominent as Rebekah's, or he might not care at all. The only thing Elena knew for certain was that Esther wanted her for something, and she didn't think it was for beauty tips or to catch her up on the ways of the New World. She had been the supposed weapon to kill Klaus with, after all, the Original Witch responsible for the creation of the vampire species...and the murderer of her ancestor, Tatia, if Damon's recounting of their dinner up at the mansion was true. She'd likely be furious that Klaus had not only used her to break his curse, but that she herself still drew breath, her heart still pumped the blood that was the key to her son's hybrids.

If Elena was a betting woman -which she wasn't, except when it came to gambling with her own life- she'd put all her money on that being the reason.

Which was why Stefan and Damon didn't want her to go, practically locking her in her own home like she was some swooning damsel in danger of tripping over her own skirts. If Bonnie wasn't with her mom, they'd have no doubt gotten her to spell her inside like last time.

Again and again and again. Around and around and around. We love you, but we don't trust you to take care of yourself. We want to keep you safe, but we'll still do something stupid that you'll have to either fix or pay for later in some awful way.

Klaus had never done that. All he'd done was ask her not to run from the sacrifice, from her fate. She hadn't. He could have done anything to her that night at the mansion, as drunken and in pain as she had been. He could have compelled her, could have done a million things, or asked *her to do them, could have tricked her into some Faustian bargain where she'd have no choice but to give him her blood. She would have made the perfect bargaining chip against Damon, who would have gone behind Stefan's back to give him the coffins back. But he hadn't. He'd simply held her as they looked up at the stars and drunk some cherry wine, as they'd peeled back the layers of themselves like art restorers, revealing the foundation underneath, cleaning and repairing the damaged parts.

And they were damaged, Elena would readily admit that. Klaus was not her hero, and she was not his redemption. If they ever kissed - and she'd thought about it, since that night, of course she had- there would be no uplifting swell of music, no pall of incandescent light would descend upon him to reveal a dashing prince -she thought, secretly, that he was already dashing enough- and all would be forgiven, all sins sloughed away like shedding a coat in summertime. No, if they kissed, the only thing that would happen would be the act of kissing the lips of the man who murdered her aunt, who killed her, who had compelled Bonnie's mom and her friend to kill himself in order to get what he wanted, solidifying the fact that she was no better than Katherine once and for all.

And yet...she couldn't help but think of what Jamie had said, the fervor in his voice, how he'd been under strict instructions that no harm should come to her of any sort. It was more consideration than either Salvatore brother had ever given her.

What did that mean? That she meant more to Klaus than she did to Stefan, to maybe even Damon. They both claimed to love her, but did they even know what it was? Did she? Apart from Matt, she'd never been in any other normal, loving, happy, relationship. Matt had been her first teen love -puppy love, as she had said so teasingly to Klaus- and Stefan was her first love, the first time she'd felt truly alive her whole life. And when Stefan left, she'd leant on Damon so much, had indulged in his attention like a cat in a sunbeam, stretching out in the lazy, languorous heat, basking in it. But he could be cold, and brutal, and he never told her anything until after the fact, or until she'd coaxed it out of him in some roundabout way that left her feeling slick and ill, coated in shame.

Klaus had never lied to her, never misled her. He was a showman, enjoyed the spotlight, the spectacle, but he never made a fool out of her. He did what he said he would, showed every single emotion on that intriguingly sculpted face, in those brilliant blue eyes...and yet she hadn't even spoken to him since that night, not a single word. She remembered falling asleep on his shoulder in the garden, how he'd carried her up the stairs, to his room, how the sheets had smelt like him, something deep and woodsy, with an underlying note of fresh paint, how she'd asked him to stay. And he had. Elena had woken up in his bed, alone, and for a moment she was sure that she'd imagined it, that she couldn't have possibly had the guts to break into his house, to say all those things, to have studied the curve of his jaw so intently as he'd tended to her scrapes, at the hands she'd seen conduct such bloodshed, a maestro of violence, be so very careful with her.

He was a puzzle wrapped in a mystery tied off with a string of something...genuine, some residual spark, a flicker, of what could have been, what should have been, if nature had been allowed to take its course, if his mother had not intervened. And Elena had never met a puzzle she couldn't solve, had countless finished Word Search books to prove it, stolen copies of her father's morning papers with every Crossword filled in, even if it took her days. She was persistent, hungry, a bloodhound who wasn't satisfied until the truth, the joyous taste of success, dripped from her jaws.

He'd even made her pancakes. It had been such a normal, guy thing to do. Elena knew that it was modern code for 'I had a really good time last night, thank you,' usually after someone slept together, and, technically, they had both been asleep in the same bed, had exchanged stories and secrets and fond memories the way two people wanting to connect romantically would normally do...which was likely why it had felt so awkward between them, the easy camaraderie of the night before evaporating in the harsh light of day.

Elena had sat there at the kitchen island, eating her pancakes, but she hadn't been able to really enjoy them, to savor them, as heavenly as they had been -a thousand year old hybrid could cook; who knew?- because she'd been so tensed for the dam to break, for the status quo to realign itself, for the universe to dust itself off and put itself back together again, smoothing over whatever bizarre infraction had led to such an impossibility as the two of them being civil occuring in the first place. She'd barely been able to look him in the eye, unable to quell her embarrassment over how she'd acted, just waiting for him to open his mouth and tip them back into familiarly hostile territory.

But he hadn't. All he'd asked was if she needed a ride home.

She'd told him no, that she'd be fine, seeing if he'd push her on it -hoping that he'd push her on it- but he'd let it go, let her go -but not before she kissed him on the cheek and thanked him for far more than the breakfast. And while Elena was by no means ashamed of what she'd done, of finding comfort when she needed it -it wasn't a crime to have a conversation with somebody, to want to reach out and connect when you were scared and alone and just wanted somebody there, who you could trust, who you knew wouldn't hurt you and wouldn't let anyone else, either- it meant that she no longer knew where she stood with Klaus, and that wasn't something that sat well with her, a sheen of queasy oil lining her gut, waiting to be ignited.

Before, they had been enemies, plain and simple, the lines between them etched in heavy charcoal, clear and distinct. But now...

Discarding the invitation on her bed, Elena padded over to her dresser, prying up the loose floorboard there. Reaching inside, she pulled out the bottle -cherry wine, of course, it could never be anything but with them- she had found on her porch when she'd gotten home from school that day, no doubt put there by one of his hybrids, since Klaus wouldn't dare come himself, lest he have to see one of the Salvatores. Not that he was scared of them, simply that he found them as mercurial and mistrustful as she did presently.

They were both so full of crap! Stefan, having the audacity to say 'Be better,' not three days after almost killing her. Just because she'd picked those wooden bullets out of his chest didn't mean she'd forgiven him in any way, shape, or form. It had made her skin crawl to have him here that morning, sitting in her kitchen, acting as if nothing had happened. And Damon...why had he told Stefan about the kiss? It was a stupid move, especially with his humanity being as predictable as a hurricane, tearing through her life and uprooting everything. It had been one kiss, and to be honest she hadn't even thought much about it since that night at the mansion...

Before she could allow her thoughts to be ensnared in a rabbit-hole of self-doubt and insecurity, Elena took one last look at the bottle in her hand, at the number scrawled in blocky black ink, and began to type out a text.

---

Klaus had been waiting for this. It made him the most pathetic weakling to ever grace the earth, but when he saw a text light up the screen of his phone from Elena Gilbert, an undignified breath of relief left his lips, fogging up the inside of his glass of whiskey. She wanted to meet.

They hadn't spoken since that night, and while she had no doubt given little thought to their unexpected interaction, letting it slip from her mind under the onslaught of all the latest drama, he had not forgotten it, not a moment. Not the way it had felt to hold her, to fall asleep with her heartbeat reverberating slow and steady against his chest. He hadn't forgotten the way she'd laughed, so bright and without restraint, as if something inside her had been unleashed, let go, repressed for too long, much like his wolf had been. While he felt guilty for compelling Bonnie's mother as he had -especially after learning that she had been the one responsible for desiccating Mikael, that she'd protected Elena from him as a girl- it had been nothing personal, and he'd done all he could to make sure no one died, most of all her.

If Mikael had still been alive, he would have killed him all over again for daring to lay a hand on his doppelgänger, when she was a child no less. It seemed his family going after her was a recurring theme. Bloody Bekah and her tantrums. So what if she'd daggered her? It had been a brilliant move, and Elena had been the one to give her back to him in the end of her own free will. She had to be impressed, at least a little -he certainly had been.

It was easy to slip past the bustling waiters and caterers marching about like frazzled ants adhering to his mother's strict specifications, making his way to the garage at the side of the house. Despite the fact that Klaus had designed this place for the specific intention of living there with his family, it felt...wrong, almost. Too loud, too crowded. He'd gotten so used to living in quiet, his only company the sound of his own footsteps, the swish of a paintbrush against canvas, the soft notes of an old jazz record. The Mikaelsons had not been a family in a thousand years, if they had ever been one at all. It was going to require some adjustment.

He knew that, presently, Elena was struggling with the opposite, sending her brother away for his own safety, alone and isolated in her house full of ghosts, the ghosts of the people she'd loved who had left her, either through fate or by sacrifice. All because he'd tried to kill him. All to make a bloody point. He'd take it back now, if he could. Hindsight could be a real bitch, just like his sister having the audacity to go after what was his. If Elijah hadn't been there, anything could have happened to her. Klaus hated the feeling of being indebted to his older brother, but never before had he been so grateful for his brother's unrelenting affection for Petrova doppelgängers, even if a small part of him wished he could have been the one to save her, to prove that he truly meant her no harm.

That if she needed him, he'd be there, and would do whatever she asked, whatever needed to be done. That she could trust him, and that his actions were no double-edged sword, a thousand cuts that she tried so desperately to hide, as if it was her fault that the people she loved did the things they did, as if she was responsible for them, shouldering the burden, the blame, because they themselves refused to. They were kindred spirits, he and her, twin souls of anguish, loving and hating at an intensity that few others could understand or maintain. It would be the world's -or just his?- most unbearable tragedy to lose such a wonderfully complex creature such as she, especially when Klaus had only just come to realize just how much there was to her, what lurked beneath the surface, the secrets and the sorcery behind those beautiful doe eyes.

Slipping the key in the ignition of his car as he let his mind mull over her possible motives for contacting him. If she were going to yell at him, she'd have just come straight to the house, charged in like Joan of Arc, twice as righteous and twice as beautiful for it. Her desire for an outside location meant that she wanted to be away from prying eyes -and ears- which meant it had something to do with his family.

His heart, traitorous organ that it was, deflated at the thought.

Half an hour later, Klaus was parking his car on an abandoned road, senses stretching out to assess his surroundings. There was nothing but the chirp of autumn birds, rustling leaves and...a single heartbeat, instantly recognizable. Klaus was out of his car in a second, making his way down the deserted path snaking forward, passing tangled tendrils of ivy wrapped in an overly loving embrace around broken ornamental columns jutting up from the ground like stalagmites, like teeth. This had once been a plantation house by his guess, much like his previous home in New Orleans before the family had moved into the Abattoir, preferring to be at the heart of the city, closer to the life and breath and pulse of excitement and entertainment, the very center of attention, as always.

The hybrid found her lost in thought, hair floating around her face in the breeze, lost in thought. And he allowed himself one moment, one single, indulgent, excessive moment, to simply look at her, to really see her. She looked tired, like she hadn't slept much, but her eyes were not clouded; aware of everything going on around her. He wondered if that was something she often did, simply stopped and stared and reflected. If she had always been like that, or if the loss of her parents, her discovery of the supernatural world and her pivotal part in it, had conjured up a desire to take a step back, to make sense of everything as her beliefs were shaken again and again and again, a mishandled snow globe, tumbling her into swirls of confusion and doubt.

"In need of another picnic already, are we?" Klaus said by way of greeting, hands folded casually in the pockets of his long navy coat, brass buttons polished to an arrogant gleam, waiting for her to notice him. He was happy to wait forever; he had it.

Elena looked up at him, and smiled, and it was so honest, so genuine, that Klaus felt it in his heart, felt his own lips quirking in response of their own accord, unable to keep themselves from mirroring it. Dusting off her jeans, she jumped down from her spot on the half-rotted staircase, picking her way effortlessly through the undergrowth littering the once likely opulent lawn. She didn't seem disconcerted by her surroundings, at the stark signs of neglect, at time eating relentlessly away. It seemed that nature was as much a part of her as it was him, something he never would have expected, that he felt privileged to know.

Autumn was her favorite season, after all.

Elena stopped a few steps away, hands sequestered in the sleeves of her red sweater -had she worn his favourite colour on purpose, or was he reading too much into things, looking for patterns that weren't there, like looking up at the clouds and swearing you see the face of that guy you broke up with last week when in actual fact it's really just some amorphous, indistinct blob?

"I'm sorry for the whole cloak and dagger routine, but I wanted what I have to say to stay between us," Elena explained, tilting her chin ever so slightly so that she could look him straight in the eye.

Klaus shrugged, fixing her with a soft smirk. "And here I thought I was the one with too much flair. Shall I run back to the manor and fetch you a trenchcoat, some dark glasses to fit the mood?" Speaking of which...look at you, out here without a coat. Are you trying to catch hypothermia?" he chided her, immediately unbuttoning his coat, giving it a liberal shake and then wrapping it around her, fingers lingering ever so slightly as he rescued her hair from the collar. Are you trying to make me worry about you?

If she was, it was most certainly working. He didn't really feel the cold, just liked wearing coats because they were stylish and made him look equal parts mysterious and dignified. And having pockets big enough to hide things in was remarkably handy.

"I didn't want to make it look like I'd gone anywhere in case Stefan and Damon came back to harass me some more," Elena elaborated, disgust puckering her mouth like she'd tasted something particularly sour. The taste of betrayal, no doubt; he knew its acrid flavor well. "I've got Dead Poets Society playing on my laptop in my room in case they get nosy."

"Careful, love, you're starting to sound like me," Klaus teased, his own personal litmus test, to see if she'd balk at the comparison.

Elena didn't even blink. "Nothing wrong with being cautious. It's why I brought you here."

Klaus let out a hum of agreement, surveying the area with an artist's eye. "I was wondering why you chose such a location. It's...pretty, I suppose, in a morbidly abandoned, Gothic sort of way. Very Wilkie Collins."

"Of course you'd bring up the author of The Moonstone. It's the original Salvatore house. No one except Stefan knows I've ever been here. Ergo, perfect place to talk...and," a scandalous grin crawled up her face like a tendril of vines at the word, "scheme."

Ah, how very, very interesting. "Scheming, you say?" Planting his heels in the dirt, Klaus tipped towards her like a falling chess piece, making a move of his own as he drawled, "Are you sure there's no other reason?"

He was rewarded handsomely for his efforts in the way of her endearing blush, at the way she splayed her hands, the large sleeves of his coat drooping over her palms. He really was so much bigger than her, and yet she seemed to take up so much more than space than him, making it impossible for him to focus on anything but her, at the bob of her eyelashes, the indent in her bottom lip as she teased the delicate flesh, no doubt willing to keep what she was about to say next to herself as long as she could, but knowing he wouldn't stop his quest to uncover it. She was a chest of such fascinating treasures.

"Maybe," she acquiesced, rising up onto her toes, riling him up, making his heart pound greedily in his chest, like it wanted to leap out and be closer to hers, betraying just how much she affected him, broadcasting his weakness for everyone to see, most of all her. "Maybe there is another reason. Maybe, if this was a different time, a different day, we wouldn't be meeting at the creepy old house of my ex boyfriend where my ancestor seduced him and his brother both. Maybe we'd be at yours with another bottle of wine, another night of laughter and shockingly easy conversation. Maybe you'd finally let me see that studio of yours. But today is not that day, Klaus. Unfortunately for you, you'll have to dredge down deep and scrounge up some of that patience you've been saving up for a rainy day, and wait. Because your mother wants to see me tonight, at the ball."

What a way to kill the mood. "Do the Salvatores know of this?"

Elena nodded. "Yes."

"Have they forbidden you from going?"

"Yes."

Klaus grinned, a flash of fang and ferocious approval. "What time should I pick you up?"

"I'd prefer to make my own dramatic entrance, actually, but your chivalry is both noted and appreciated. After Rebekah's little stunt last night, Elijah explained that all your mother wants is peace, for you to be a family again. Do you buy it?"

Sighing, Klaus collapsed gracefully to the grass, fingers carding through stray tufts, sifting them through his fingers. He paused, giving her question the consideration it deserved. For so long, he'd kept his feelings regarding the woman who birthed him, who condemned him to a life of miserable emptiness and a sense of being incomplete, in the very corners of his mind, hidden even to himself. What good did it do to dwell on her, especially when he was reminded of her every time Mikael appeared, every time he and his siblings had to leave at a split-seconds notice? When, every month, the full moon had come and gone and he had felt a tugging somewhere inside, begging for freedom, and every time he had been unable to heed it, forced to deny it, all because of her?

He'd dreamed about killing Mikael for years, but hers was the first life he ever took on purpose, the first time his hands were ever stained red, not out of a hunger for blood, but for revenge. He was a thousand years old. He was Klaus Mikaelson: he didn't want, or need, his mother, and yet he still found himself confessing..."I want to."

Elena joined him, leaning her weight on her palms. There was no disapproval, no condemnation. It was the same expression she'd worn when he'd admitted to killing the same woman in question. "I know," she replied, steady as a metronome, reliable for her calmly compassionate tempo. "I would as well."

He hadn't realized he'd needed to hear that until the words left her lips. It made him feel more human. "A thousand years is a long time, long enough to change anyone's mind," he commented, long fingers still picking at the grass. A small patch of daisies caught his eyes, their magenta strokes standing out against the cotton-pure white of their petals. An idea sprung to mind.

Elena tilted her head, resting her chin on his shoulder. "Naturally."

"But not my mother. If she wants you, I can't imagine it being for anything good."

"Which is why I came to you. I would love to believe that there's nothing family wouldn't forgive, that goodness exists in everyone and everything, that love can conquer any obstacle. But it can't, and I'm not naive enough to refuse to see that." Suddenly, she looked too old, too sad, for her simple eighteen years. She looked almost as old as he was, as he felt, and he wished for nothing more than to wipe it away. But, as skilled as he was, it just wasn't in his power to grant.

He didn't know what she needed, didn't know how to make this better for her; he'd never been relied on as a source of comfort -as a boy, yes, Bekah had often sought him out, but that was so long ago, and she'd been but a scared child, and he'd known her all her life.

He was snarls and subterfuge, trickery and mockery and cruel amusement, this constant undercurrent of anger running through everything, ruining everything, tearing and pushing everyone else away, a truly wounded animal. All he could do was make her a promise.

Klaus stopped his idle fiddling, body turning to stone, jaw closed shut like a tomb. "If she wants you, she can't have you." The words were a growl, a claim, a defiant challenge of anyone who would dare to do anything as stupid as incur his wrath. He had no doubt that she could take care of herself, that she knew when she was over her head and wouldn't let her pride encumber her sense of survival...but she was so good, and wanted to see it in everybody. That very moment, right then, with her hand inches from his, her throat millimeters from his teeth, so very trusting of him...she wouldn't notice the knife in her back until the hilt met bone, wouldn't scream or cry out, just pull it out and keep on going until she couldn't anymore. And then where would he be?

Her sigh tickled the hairs on his cheek. "Klaus..."

"No." He cut her off, beheading her protest as if it were a beast of ancient myth. "Saint or sinner, for good or for ill, if she tries anything, and I mean anything, with you, I'll be more than happy to divest her of her heart once again. She is a powerful witch, far stronger than anything you've seen or come up against before. I shudder to think what she could do with your blood."

Elena scoffed theatrically, rolling her eyes to the sea-glass-blue sky above. "Thank you for putting my mind at ease, I really appreciate it."

Klaus teased her right back. "All part of the service, love."

"And what service is that?" she wondered, voice a low, throaty purr, her smile saccharine sweet to match, honey on a razor-sharp blade.

"That depends," he supplied, mirroring her tone, scraping and dry like tinder, rubbing against their skin, the crackle and pop of incoming thunder. Oh, how he'd adore to be drenched by her. "What do you want it to be?"

Elena leaned back, and the spell broke, the band snapped, the thunder receded, taking her and her warmth with it. "I fell right into that one, didn't I?" She ran a hand through her hair. He could see it shaking. Thank the gods; it wasn't only him then, wasn't all in his head. "But do you really think now is the best time for this? Your mother will be suspicious if she finds you gone. Plus, don't you have to get ready for tonight?"

Excuses, excuses, excuses. This wasn't a game of Hopscotch, she couldn't leapfrog her way out of this like it was a bloody koi pond. He wanted to push her, everything in him practically screamed at him to push, to not walk away until he'd gotten an answer from her, one way or another. And if he did do that...he'd be no better than the Salvatores, a thought he could not abide by. There was a reason why she'd come to him -twice now- and not them. She believed him to be different. He would not dare destroy that belief just to satiate his own desires.

So, he settled on something else entirely.

"Are you suggesting that it takes," Klaus pulled her arm across her chest, into his lap, glancing at her watch, "*nine hours for me to look presentable?" he quipped, hearing the chuckle bubble up from her lips like champagne and internally praising himself. It was just as satisfying to make her laugh.

"Hey, no judgments here. It'll probably take me half that time to get into my dress."

They settled into silence, a familiar groove like a well-worn notch on vinyl. Klaus would have been content to sit there, to listen to the birds and her breathing, but it seemed that Elena had changed her mind. "You're right, we do need to clear the air," she acknowledged, shuffling away from him so that she faced him head-on, knees pressed up against his, "but for now all I need is for you to answer one question: do you hate me?"

"No. I don't think I ever have." And what a dangerous thought that was. He'd been intrigued by her before he'd even met her, seduced by the idea of her ever since Katerina had escaped his clutches. The Petrova doppelgänger, his salvation, his savior from a life felt incomplete, without purpose, without the clarity of being whole. And then he'd actually met her in the flesh -well, the flesh of her history teacher and pseudo parent, but he really wasn't gonna get into that- and the first thing she'd done was correct him when he was wrong. Watergate was in the seventies, Ric. No one had ever had the audacity to correct him in decades. It seemed he'd had so much wrong, for so long. But how did he admit that? Should he even admit that? He was who he was for a reason, because fear had been the only one to get through to people, because if he was any other way, if someone actually genuinely cared for him...Klaus wouldn't know what to do with it. He was too rough, too intimidating, too impertinent and spontaneous and passionate and provoking.

He was unknowable, and the world would not ever understand him; he did not understand himself sometimes. How he'd dropped his guard so quickly for Elena, how it had taken one single, solitary night to shake him up, his worldview, like a kaleidoscope, the shapes refusing to make sense to him. If he gave her everything...she wouldn't accept it. He was her murderer, after all, the killer of her aunt, had slaughtered her distant ancestors when Katerina chose to defy him. He was not a good person, and he was deluding not only himself but her as well if he ever pretended to be otherwise.

But wouldn't it be worth it? Was it so wrong, after a thousand years of existing, to try that one thing he'd never attempted before? To be worthy of something like her? To prove Mikael wrong, that he was not a monster, even if it was only around her?

Klaus didn't need an army of people to adore him, after all. All he needed was just one person to protect his heart when he had long since forgotten it.

"Do you hate me?"

Elena touched his cheek, ran her thumb over his jaw like she was sculpting him, moulding him into shape, something new and unseen, even to himself. He leaned into her touch. "No. Not anymore."

She pulled away, and he captured her back, interlacing their fingers as he pressed, "You really don't wish to ask more than that?"

Elena shook her head, calm and serene as a still lake, nothing hidden at the bottom, no traps to snare him. "I don't need to know anything else; I have to trust that the rest will follow."

Fair enough. "Tonight, at the ball...save me a dance, won't you? I won't make it through the night if I have to dance with the desperate housewives of Mystic Falls," he added, letting go of her hand, picking at the grass instead, a sense of self-preservation rearing its head. He didn't want to look desperate. He wasn't desperate, was he? He was Klaus bloody Mikaelson, and it shouldn't matter if she wanted to dance with him or not, he shouldn't care if she'd thought about him as much as he'd thought about her the last few days. He was the Big Bad Wolf, the Original Hybrid, not a pre-pubescent teen trailing after the cheerleader then skulking off with their tail between their legs and playing Whitney Houston on repeat when she made her inevitable and atrociously cliche choice of the high school quarterback.

"Someone thinks mighty highly of themselves, don't they?" she smiled at him, and gods if he didn't want to sit there and paint it, to spend hours creating the exact shade of her eyes, the pink of her cheeks, the cherry-red of her lips.

Fuck.

What had she done to him?

Klaus paused -pretending like internally he wasn't reeling like an unspooling thread over the realization that he'd somehow ended up at her complete and utter mercy, and he didn't care one bit- considered, then said, "Yes."

"Who says you're not getting them all, Mr Mikaelson?" she wondered, tipping her head up towards the sun, as beautiful as the wisteria blossoms swaying in the breeze, as if even the plants wanted to be close to her, adored by her.

They could get in bloody line.

"Well, a gentleman never assumes a lady's intentions," he informed her primly, fingers finally stilling, setting something in his lap. "Close your eyes."

He expected some sort of rebuttal, or at the very least a mild interrogation, but Elena simply closed his eyes, trusting him as no one else ever had. Maybe he didn't need to prove himself after all.

Gently, Klaus set the daisy chain crown he'd made her on her head, tilting it just so, looping another one around her neck. "You can open them now."

Elena did, a hand immediately going to her head before glancing down at her chest, the white petals a sharp contrast against the navy twilight of his coat, a scattering of stars. "You made me a crown?"

Klaus swallowed thickly, ruffled by her scrutiny, the way she looked at him so thoroughly. He didn't think there was that much to see. "Every queen needs one, especially for a ball."

Rubbing the petals between her fingers as if each one was a bead, a prayer, Elena insisted, quiet but firm, "Klaus, I'm no queen."

"Says who?" he argued to her, completely serious. He really wanted to know, wanted to know what she thought was stopping her from greatness.

She laughed, high and bright and incredulous, just a little bit hysterical, a little bit flummoxed by his seriousness of such a seemingly ridiculous and inconsequential topic. "Mmm, I don't know, the world?"

"Well then, the world is even more stupid than I originally thought it to be, especially if it can't recognize such blatant royalty."

"And I'm supposed to take your word on this because...?" Elena trailed off pointedly.

Fingers snaking up her neck, tempting as that in the garden of Eden, drawn to that which was previously forbidden, he hooked them under her chin, drawing her face closer to his, her pulse jumped at his touch. "Because I've been alive for a thousand years, sweetheart, have been to every country, seen empires rise and kingdoms fall, dynasties born and destroyed in the blink of an all-seeing eye. I know something special when I see it, something destined for greatness. And you, dear Elena, are very much it."

"All I've ever been destined for is to die." Her hand went to her neck, to the scar there, his scar, that forever proof that he'd hurt her in more ways than one, had taken far more than just her blood.

"And you've already done that, which means you have the rest of your life to pursue world domination or whatever else catches your fancy."

"World domination?" she echoed incredulously. "You know a lot about that?"

Klaus shrugged, twirling a hand flamboyantly in the air as if he could capture her laugh, a summer firefly lighting up his usually tedious life. "Kol and I tried it once. It worked for about a week, we had most of Europe covered, and then Elijah caught us, the bloody buzzkill. Older siblings are the worst. Present company excluded, of course."

"Thank you for your consideration," Elena snarked, eyes fluttering closed as she let out a jaw-splitting yawn.

Klaus' brow furrowed, immediately concerned. "You sound exhausted, sweetheart. How much sleep have you had?"

"Not much," Elena admitted sheepishly, looking at him helplessly. "After coming home and having to kill Alaric -did you not know? There's a serial killer on the loose who apparently knows about vampires and Ric's stash of monster-hunting gear, since one of the murder weapons had my fingerprints on it- so that he'd come back, sorting out everything at the hospital, being choked by Rebekah and catching up with Elijah... don't pout, Klaus; jealousy doesn't look good on you."

The hybrid ticked off on his fingers, "One, I'm not pouting. Two, I'm not jealous. And three, *everything looks good on me. You should really get some rest, you'll need your wits about you tonight. And to keep up with me on the dance floor," he spirited in wink a wink.

"I wish I could, but I have lunch with Caroline at noon, she needs help finding a dress and if I go home I'll feel like I'm just waiting for Stefan or Damon to lecture me again."

"Then stay here," Klaus insisted breezily, as if he'd solved all her problems for her in one fell swoop. "If memory serves, I make a great pillow."

Her nose scrunched adorably, a surefire sign that she was about to argue, gaze narrowed as if she was weighing the pros and cons. And then, just like that, she caved. "...Fine. But just for a little while. I still have to call Bonnie and find Alaric's cufflinks for him cause he's got a date with Meredith and I haven't got a necklace to match my dress yet and..."

And she was out like a light, burrowing into his grey shirt as if she never wanted to come out. Stretching out his legs, Klaus leaned against the red maple tree behind him, getting comfortable, brushing a kiss against her forehead. "Sweet dreams, Elena."

---

Elena slept for only a couple of hours, and yet she felt more rested than she had in days. After letting Klaus vamp-speed her home, she'd taken a lightening-swift shower -but not before putting her daisy chain crowd in pride of place on her dresser, the necklace finding a home on the back of her door- before meeting Caroline for a short lunch at the Grill, because of even she, a non-vampire, could smell Klaus' cologne all over her after wearing -and sleeping in- his coat, there was no way in hell that Caroline wouldn't have picked up on it immediately. She let her best friend bemoan the Mikaelsons and their 'Cinderella fetish,' humming in agreement in all the necessary places, but her mind hadn't been on the conversation.

No, all she could think about was Klaus, his name swirling in her head like a litany, a chant, an incantation to summon something wicked. But he wasn't. His smile still was, as were those adoring dimples of his -even from the start, she'd found his face so deceptively innocent, angelic almost, carved out of something pliant and yet unyielding- but not much else.

Elena had grown up believing in science the way some believed in Santa Claus, putting all of her adolescent faith in it, knowing it could always give her answers, data that she could interpret and use. So, she'd repeated her experiment. She'd spent time with Klaus, removing the variable of her intoxication, wondering if it -but knowing, somewhere in her heart that it wouldn't- make a difference, if they would revert back to previous behaviors, Cinderella's coach turning back into a pumpkin, her footmen back into mice.

Conclusion: it hadn't.

If anything, she'd been able to appreciate the change in their dynamic more, no longer reeling from the horrors she'd endured that night, Stefan on the bridge and Caroline getting bitten by Tyler, then being healed by Klaus. He hadn't even mentioned it that night, could have gloated about how he'd saved her, one of her best friends, used it to put pressure on her staunch disinterest in giving him her blood. But he hadn't. She still didn't know why he'd done it. When she'd asked Caroline, she said that he loved birthdays, talked about all the art and music and beauty out there in the world, waiting for her if she'd just take it, take his blood. Maybe that was why she'd gone to the mansion in the first place, why, as soon as Damon had dropped her off, bruised and boozy and broken, she'd gone into Alaric's stash of Bourbon, needing to numb it all, re-reading Caroline's texts like she was trying to decipher some secret code, fixing on eight simple words.

He saved me, when he didn't have to.

Elena had always assumed that Klaus was motivated by want. A want for himself, to be free of his curse. A want for her blood to create his hybrids. A want for revenge against those who had wronged him. But that didn't give him nearly enough credit. He was far more human than she'd ever thought or realized, as she was now learning him to be. He could be sweet and gentle and tender, and he listened, really listened to her. It was so unexpected, like looking in a biscuit tin, thinking there's none left when in fact there's one more chocolate chip cookie left. Not that she was comparing Klaus Mikaelson, Original hybrid, to a chocolate cookie. Was in no way saying he looked edible in any way...

"Elena? Elena! Have you been listening to anything I've said?"

Elena blinked, once, twice, reorienting herself. Crap. She shot her friend a deeply apologetic smile, liberally applying her charm. "Sorry, Care, I got distracted. What were you saying?"

"What were you distracted by, you already have a dress and like a billion others. You know what? Never mind. Now, I was thinking of either the yellow or maybe the periwinkle, or maybe the violet. Ooh, this indigo would totally stand out..."

After another two hours of this, Caroline finally had her dress and Elena was finally getting out her own, ignoring her phone as it blew it up with texts of various demands to stay home from Stefan and Damon, each one becoming more menacing as she refused to answer. Jerks. Like she'd let them ruin the little happiness and enjoyment she was hoping to wring out of the night, evil witches aside.

She'd never been one for ball gowns, had always felt more comfortable in jumpers and jeans, but she had to admit that she loved the dress. It was the kind of thing her mom would have worn, opulent and elegant with a vintage feel, adorned in tiny sequins and crystals. While Elena stayed away from wearing black as much as she could -she'd forever associate the colour with cemeteries, with crying and casseroles and fake smiles and oh, my God, how am I going to hold on after this, how am I going to take care of Jeremy?- this didn't feel like all those times before. The colour was no longer wearing her, she was the one wearing it. Laying it out on her bed, she began tidying the space around it, almost tripping over her discarded jeans from earlier.

Huffing at her past self for doing her no favors, Elena collected up her discarded clothes, deciding to start a load of laundry while she got ready. Going through the pockets as she always did -a habit long since learned, after living in a house with an artistic brother who often left charcoals and pencils in clothes and forgetting about them, and Ric who had a propensity for leaving loose change in his pockets, but that was neither here nor there- she shook out her jeans, frowning when something clattered to the floor at her feet.

Bending down, Elena picked up the curious item, examining it in the light of her bedside lamp. It was a necklace, a locket, a golden rose studied with tiny blood-red rubies, like pinpricks of blood. Elena held it to her nose, catching traces of a familiar herb. Vervain. Klaus had given her a new vervain necklace -who else had had access to her pockets today but him (or had such good taste in accessories)?

She didn't know when he'd done it, if he'd gotten it when she was asleep because she'd offhandedly mentioned needing a necklace, or if he'd planned to give it to her all along, but she felt better having it. Whilst she tried to stick to a strict schedule of ingesting vervain every day in her coffee, human error was unavoidable. Looking at the delicate flower, known both for its petals as well as its thorns, she couldn't help but wonder if that was how Klaus saw her: as something beautiful, but also deadly, able to both intoxicate and inflict harm when needed, when not handled properly.

'Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under'th.'

It made her feel powerful.

Clasping it around her neck, Elena began to sort through the detritus and haphazard paraphernalia on her dresser. All she needed to do now was her make-up, curl her hair, put on her dress and her heels and her gloves and find an old lipstick tube and she'd be ready to go to the ball.

---

Elena was twenty minutes late. Klaus was getting restless. Both Caroline and the Salvatore brothers had already arrived, the former accepting his condolences over her father with a tight-lipped smile that screamed her dislike for him better than words ever could. He knew that she'd never say anything to jeopardize her title as Miss Mystic Falls, certainly not while out in public, surrounded by the darling Founding Families. He couldn't help but scoff at all the women in their too-tight dresses, eyeing him as of he was a buffet -that's behind you, ladies, right next to my idiot brother stacking the champagne glasses like Jenga cubes- as if he was some spectacle for them to ogle.

This was why he stayed away from humans unless he was feeling peckish. He'd had many friends -and the occasional lover- who were friends over the centuries, but it was best not to get attached. An immortal vampire being so close to a human could only end in three ways: One, they broke your heart when they rejected you and all your 'creature of the night' tendencies and urges. Two, they wanted you to turn them, and things got messy. Or three, perhaps the very worst of them all...they died, and you couldn't save them, forced to carry on as they did not.

So yes, Klaus didn't like to get too attached to that which didn't last -it was why he loved painting so much, immortalizing images on canvas, being able to take them with him wherever he went (and protect them with a good preservation spell)- but every thought of doing so flew straight out of his head like a flock of doves at the sight of Elena Gilbert as she passed through the front doors of the mansion.

If his heart could have stopped beating, it would have been dead in his chest.

(As it was, it only skipped a beat. Or two. Or twenty.)

She looked...effulgent. Radiant. Utterly incandescent, limned in shadow and chandelier light, her dress clinging to her, understated yet seductive, hair curling around the left side of her neck, accentuating the slope of her neck. Had she done that on purpose, displaying the place he'd bitten her so openly, even if it was barely visible to anyone but him, wearing it like a badge of honor, a mark of her survival? And she was wearing the necklace he'd given her, and that possessive, needy, territorial part of him preened at the sight of it. It did really look lovely on her. He'd picked well.

Almost immediately, the Salvabores as he'd newly christened them, stalked towards her, twin grim reapers of fury and excessive hair gel, no doubt set on reprimanding her for having the audacity to think for herself and do what she wanted. Idiots.

Handing off her wrap to the coat check with a murmured thanks -always so polite, his doppelgänger- Elena glanced at the incoming vampires, face regal and composed, a queen in repose, unbothered by the palpable aggression roiling off the two, filling the room like smoke. They were both used to things burning. Those boys were going to cause a scene if they weren't careful. Honestly, it was a wonder the Council hadn't found out they were vampires before Carol and Sheriff Forbes took over; even he, werewolf and vampire both, did a better impression of a human than they did.

Elena stepped towards them. They stopped, rooted in place. She tipped her head up in that defiant tilt Klaus had come to relish, smiled politely, looking right through them, and kept on walking, dismissing them as if they weren't worth her time -of course they bloody weren't, why had it taken her so long to see that? All the way across the room she went, ignoring the whispers of greedy gossip, clutching at the new and shiny morsel of gossip like overindulgent magpies with no impulse control -gods, this town was full of shallow busybodies- until she was standing at Klaus' side, her velvet-gloved hand falling into (it's rightful) place in his.

Klaus brought it to his lips, feeling the heat of her skin radiating through the thick inky-black fabric.

I'd prefer to make my own dramatic entrance, she'd told him that morning.

She certainly had succeeded.

"You're late."

"I'm right on time...for surprising you."

"And the rest of Mystic Falls, apparently," he remarked with a proud smile. His gaze swept over her, taking in every inch, committing it all to memory like one committed murder: wholeheartedly and without regret. "You're a vision, sweetheart."

"And you're far too dapper in that tux of yours. I assume the vultures have been swarming?" she inquired mildly, linking her arm through his, tilting her head to scan the room from the corner of her eye. Not noticeably, but enough to remind him that Elena was accustomed to being in the apex of danger, and that tonight was not the night for dropping guards, either of them.

Klaus nodded, rolling his eyes for her benefit. "In droves. Thank the gods you're here to protect me."

"Who says I wouldn't leave you to fend for yourself?" Elena teased, right in front of the Salvatores, in front of her friends and the town and her whole world. She did not look ashamed. "You're certainly capable. Maybe I'd just grab some champagne and watch."

His hand went to his chest, splaying over his heart. "Are you saying I'm a spectacle?"

She smirked, reaching up to straighten his bowtie, her fingers such a stark contrast against the white of his dress shirt collar. The irony was not lost on him; her dressed in black, him wearing white. She certainly wore it well. "I'm saying you're a lot of things, Mr Mikaelson. An idiot, for one thing."

"And why is that?"

"Your gift almost ended up in the wash," she exclaimed, the vehemence of her words undone by her lovely smile. "It's a good thing I'm so vigilant when it comes to laundry."

Klaus shrugged, tipping back his glass of champagne, pretending to be oblivious at the way she tracked his swallow, the faint blush on her cheeks. "I'd have just got you another one."

Elena shook her head, zipping the rose on its chain. "But I like this one." I like this one because you gave it to me.

He tried to shrug off her words, downplay them as if they didn't make his hands shake, his confidence falter, snagging another glass of a passing waiter. "You're easy to please."

She didn't seem swayed. "No, you're just remarkably sweet when you want to be."

She said it so easily, the words rolling off her tongue, lyrical and meaningful as poetry, chipping away at the lodestone that was his implacable persona of 'I'm Klaus Mikaelson, I don't give a crap about anyone or anything.' If she kept saying things like that, she'd bring him tumbling down, straight to his knees, right at her feet, prostrate for all the world to see.

Maybe that was what she wanted.

Maybe that was what he wanted, too.

But he wasn't there (quite) yet, and he intended to have some fun first.

"I think you just bring it out in me," Klaus murmured, lips dancing so very close to the skin of her neck, but not making contact, the epitome of gentlemanly restraint, "like the gold brings out your eyes. Drink?"

She ran a finger around the rim of his champagne glass, raising a disbelieving brow, no doubt trying to cover up her racing heartbeat. He almost told her not to bother, but it was endearing to see her try so hard. "This? With you? I feel like I'm cheating on my beloved cherry wine. He'll be so disappointed to see me imbibing another alcoholic beverage."

Klaus reached behind him, holding up a bottle. "I thought you might say that, so I came prepared."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you know me."

Her expression grew serious, contemplative, real, as she confessed, "Yes, I think I'm starting to."

"And what conclusions have you come to so far?" the hybrid wondered, effortlessly uncorking it and pouring her a glass, all the way to the top. This was a celebration, after all. And it had been a remarkable pleasure to meet Drunk Elena -Klaus owed her a debt; she'd led him to the real one.

"None you'd want any of your siblings to overhear, I'm sure," she retorted, words taking on a scandalized air. "Think of the damage it could do to your reputation if they found out."

"Found out what, love?"

"That, deep down, right in here," she tapped an index finger on his chest, ring glinting, "is a big old softie."

Klaus hummed, taking a sip of champagne. "A softie, you say."

"Yep. As cuddly as a Teddy Ruxpin bear."

"You mean that one from the eighties that cost an arm and a leg that played cassette tapes?"

Elena shrugged, taking a drink from her own glass. "I always wanted one."

"I'll get you one."

She rolled her eyes. "Money can't buy you everything, Klaus."

"No, but it can buy you the bear that you've apparently always wanted."

"You're incorrigible."

"No, just very encouragible. Dance with me."

She set down their glasses, going into his arms without hesitation, as she always had. "Is that even a word?" Elena puzzled as he began to lead her through the steps, easing into a rhythm effortlessly, as he'd known she would -she was Miss Mystic Falls' Handmaiden, after all. He'd seen the pictures of her on the parade float on the town website; she'd looked lovely in her yellow dress, like sunshine, but he much preferred her like this, comfortable in her own skin rather than the cumbersome cage of a corset. A beauty like her was not meant to be trapped, in anything. Be it a dress or a town or a relationship..."Damon's glaring daggers at you."

Speak of the devil and he will appear. "Good. Maybe I'll give him one in the chest."

"And then who would dance with me while you're off doing that?"

"I'm sure Elijah would be agreeable to a waltz, perhaps a small Lindy Hop if you ask nicely." His teeth clenched at the thought. It was pretty, and ridiculous, but look how the last two had turned out, he wouldn't go through that again, not with her, he couldn't, it might just break him entirely and...

"You're turning green, Klaus. Like the Grinch."

Klaus spun her out for a twirl. "Jim Carrey was great in that movie."

"The man who claims to have no heart at all, promoting he who's grows three sizes big? That's a little hypocritical, don't you think? And I never pegged you as the holly jolly Christmas type."

Her chest collided back with his, her fingers running up his silken jacket sleeve.

"Even Original hybrids like Christmas, Elena. And Christmas movies...of which Die Hard is not among them, just so you know."

Her smile was far too knowing, far too irresistible with mischief. "And if I said it was? You'd kick me out of the club?"

"What club?"

"The Daisy Chain Club, of course, of which you're Chairman. I'm in charge of finances," she said as if it were common knowledge, as obvious as the chandelier hanging above them like a glistening moon, the way that Caroline Forbes kept looking over at them like her friend had lost her god-damned mind. Her dance partner, the ever amused Kol, looked quite the same.

"Financing what?"

"Peace and goodwill."

He let out a chuckle, moving her effortlessly as the song picked up speed. "Of course, I shouldn't have expected anything else. Finn's staring at you, by the way."

"Tall, long hair, tugging at his cuffs, looking like he either wants to cry or sneeze?"

A nod. "That's the one."

"You're prettier," she blurted out, biting on her bottom lip like she'd retract it. But she didn't.

He hoarded the compliment like gold. "Thank you, love."

"But so is Elijah."

Klaus spluttered a laugh, people looking around at the sound. Let them. "You're a menace."

"Yeah, but I'm the menace you've been waiting to dance all day with, so I think I win here."

"Who says I'm not the winner?" the hybrid proposed, watching as a small frown creased her brow. Did she not get it? Did she not see? He'd make her. "I am dancing with the most enchanting girl at this ball, let alone the entirety of Mystic Falls and the greater Virginia area."

"You're gonna make me blush."

"That's the plan, sweetheart, and all my plans always go without a hitch."

"Except becoming friends with me, of course. I bet you didn't anticipate that one."

Klaus stopped. Elena faltered a half step, caught up in the riptide before she eventually came to a halt while the sea of dancers carried on around them. It didn't matter. It shouldn't matter. He'd been thinking about things far more intense than friendship for most of the day, so really, in the grand scheme of things, but he still needed to know. "Is that what we are? Friends?"

Elena nodded. He swept her back in his arms, wanting to hold her close. "We're certainly not enemies, Klaus, not anymore. As for anything else..." but he never got to hear what she intended to say, for, as per the rules of the dance, he was forced to spin her out, right into the awaiting arms of his youngest, most mischievous brother.

---

"Hello, darling. My, aren't you a pretty thing," were the first thing out of her new partner's mouth, and immediately her hackles raised, a cobra readying to strike. After everything she'd been through this last year, after so many comparisons to Katherine, after being tossed around from hand to hand like a hot potato, few things made her angrier than being made to feel like she was lesser, less than herself.

"Wow, what a thing to say to a girl of the twenty first century, that she's a thing," she drawled sarcastically, knowing she likely shouldn't be provoking an Original vampire -of course she knew who he was, he looked so much like Elijah, only younger and more wild, the untamed fox to his stalking lion- but the night on the bridge had been her last straw. No more Miss Meek Elena. No more biting her tongue. It was time to start biting off other people's. And if she had a little fun while doing it? So be it.

"I've been daggered in a box for ninety six years and as of yet haven't got around to replenishing my knowledge of modern culture and conversation."

Elena softened, eyes scanning the room with Klaus, finding him dancing with Caroline. His gaze met hers -because of course he knew when she was looking- and she offered him a wordless smile of good luck. He'd need it; he was about to be interrogated within an inch of his life. "That's alright, I know Klaus wouldn't have left me with you if you were a complete asshat." And he had saved her from having to dance with either Stefan or Damon -two non-options of there ever was- both of whom had made unwelcomed grabs towards her when they switched partners. She got off lucky.

"An asshat, mmm? That's a new one. I'll remember that. I'm Kol."

She dipped her head, curtseying as best she could while still maintaining her steps. "Elena Gilbert."

"Didn't feel like taking Katerina's last name?"

"No." Elena shook her head, veins burning and melting and thawing and aching at the mere mention of her. "If I knew where she was, I'd douse hee with vervain and light a match."

"Feisty. And violent. You officially just became my favorite person here." His smirk was sharper than Klaus', making him look less human instead of more, manic chaos glinting in his eyes like light shining off a blade in a horror movie, juxtaposing the beautiful with the macabre. He'd be the one to look out for, the predator in the dark, waiting in the shadows. If Klaus had really left him daggered for so long, he'd hold a grudge, want to get back at him, and therefore wouldn't care that he needed her alive -now wanted her alive. He might even hurt her just for the hell of it, the thrill. So if he wasn't close with Klaus, what about the rest of his siblings?

"Even though Rebekah tried to kill me only this morning?" she puzzled, seemingly innocent, just making small talk, masking her true curiosity. She needed to know how this family worked, or she just might not survive them, no matter what Klaus said or did.

Kol unfurled his hand, spinning her out, then puking her back in, the movement more forceful, less fluid, then Klaus' had been. "My sister has a temper and doesn't like to be upstaged, or fight for Nik's attention, of which you have in spades." He seemed infinitely intrigued by the concept, as if it were some unsolvable formula, an unnatural occurrence -much like their own vampiric existence. He continued on, almost jovially, "So, a little wolfie painter told me that Mummy Dearest wants to have a chat with you. He also tells me that those two charming gorillas over there have forbidden you from doing so, am I correct?"

"On all counts."

Completely ignoring everyone else around them, he led her into a dip that definitely was *not part of the dance, leaning over her slightly, his nose inches from hers, his arm the only thing keeping her from landing on the floor. A demonstration of power? "Then let me offer my services to you."

Showing off his skill, then. "To do what, exactly?"

Kol set her up right again, smirk blooming on his face. The whole family had perfected the art of them, apparently. "Well, that depends. Are you against permanent dismemberment or..."

"Kol!" she swatted at his shoulder, not caring that he was a thousand years old, that she was human and he was not; he shouldn't go around saying things like that, especially within hearing distance of those he was threatening. It was just bad manners.

"Temporarily incapacitated it is, then."

Elena frowned, inclining her head in the direction of the two Salvatores. "Can't they...?" she trailed off pointedly, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"Nope." He pulled on his jacket, the tiny gem on his lapel glinting softly like banked embers. "This little beauty -a genius invention of mine, by the way- creates a magical loop of feedback, so that every time one of them tries to listen in, all they hear is us talking about the weather or how good Klaus is in bed or something equally boring."

"Kol! That's not- we haven't- we aren't-" If she could see herself, Elena knew her cheeks would be cherry red, flaming with indignation and embarrassment; just because Damon and Stefan couldn't hear them didn't mean anyone else, say a certain hybrid, couldn't.

"Oh, sorry, did I poke my nose where it wasn't wanted? But come on, doppelcakes, you've got eyes: you must see how Nik looks at you?"

"And how does he look at me, exactly?" Elena challenged, listening as the final notes of the song echoed around the room, as a few couples dispersed for refreshments or other things. Esther would be coming for her soon.

For the first time that night -since she'd met him- Kol looked completely serious. It didn't suit him, didn't suit his boyish, almost Peter-Pan-like nature, and she couldn't help but be reminded of all they'd lost, each and every Mikaelson.

"Like he's been living in a cave all his life, and the sun's finally risen. Like you're the most precious and mystifying thing he's ever seen. For a moment I thought he'd been replaced by some creepy automaton but then I poked him and he growled at me and I was like, Yeah, that's Nik. My point is, it's disgusting, and it makes me want to retch, but..." he pulled his jacket away, ever so slightly, revealing a familiar silver dagger, its handle peeking out like a winking eye. "He gave this to me and promised he'd never use it on me, ever again, if I helped you with this itty bitty little thing. Elijah, too," his voice seemed to soften, his surprise at the gesture still visible, and her heart twinged with a pang of sympathy; no one should decide your fate but you, and it was a horrific thing to not feel in control of your own life. Even if Klaus had done it with the best intention: protecting the people he loved most, his family. "It seems you've been upgraded to the Ultimate Original Bodyguard package. Enjoy it, darling. We come with snacks, too."

---

Elena let Kol lead her into a side room down the long, labyrinthine hallways, away from the crowd and curious looks veiled behind placid sips of champagne and too-slow blinks. She hated having to plot during these things, having all those eyes on her, judging her, as if they knew exactly what she was doing when they really didn't have a fucking clue. Opening the door, he ushered her into what looked like a personal study, dominated by a walnut desk and oak bookcases, shelves crammed with books like a teenager cramming for finals. She took one look at it, at the grass globe and the inkpot and jade green curtains and knew it belonged to Elijah.

Klaus would have paintings everywhere. There'd be at least two different types of alcohol on at least two different surfaces. There'd be mud on the carpet like Hansel and Gretel's trail of breadcrumbs, leading her on an unknown trail. It would smell like paint and pine and pain and possibility, a path through the forest when she couldn't see the wood for the trees.

How did she get so attached so quickly?

Kol situated himself behind the desk, lounging in Elijah's wing-backed chair, making the most of his own personal impromptu throne. Elena took a seat opposite him, toeing off her heels and planting her feet up on the desk, crossing her legs at the ankle, her skirts a waterfall of sequined fabric, catching the light of the banker's lamps.

The youngest Mikaelson brother grinned, sharp as a shark with an equal appetite for blood. "A little rebellious, are we? I'm sure you know my brother wouldn't approve."

"Ah, but Elijah's not here right now, is he, and my feet are literally dying in these heels; he'll just have to sacrifice his beloved etiquette in the name of the greater good just this once."

She didn't know what to say to him, felt so analyzed under his gaze, the ant under his magnifying glass. Elena tried not to fidget, to display any sign of weakness. Bodyguard or not, she wouldn't trust him after twenty minutes and a few dances; she wasn't built that way. Instead, she looked at the clock resting on the table, heavy and ornate. "How long do you think we've got?"

Kol steepled his fingers under his chin, considering. "Two, maybe three minutes. Four at the most. My money's on the dark-haired, scowling one. I think the spikey, frowning one will just tag along for kicks. Or to watch his brother get pummelled."

"Stefan loves his brother; he'd die for him, even as he is now." God, she was a broken record, wasn't she? Always rushing to their defence, no matter what they'd done, arguing their case like she was the defense attorney of their innocence, trying to prove that they were still good, didn't belong in a jail of hatred and resentment.

Kol cocked a brow. "Which is?"

"With a fried humanity switch."

His mouth pressed into a hard line, clearly unimpressed. "Mm, that pesky little thing. Never saw the appeal. What's the point of killing people if you don't enjoy it? If you're going to be wicked, it might as well benefit someone." He blinked at her, owlishly, eyes large, fathomless depths. "You don't seem surprised."

"I stopped being surprised by the actions of your siblings a long time ago. Besides, I very much doubt you want to hear my opinion on the matter."

Kol chuckled, the sound reverberating through the room. It was Klaus' chuckle, only less restrained, more bold, a streak of black paint on a white canvas, not caring if it ruined anything. "What makes you say that, darling?"

"Because if even Elijah, with his infinite patience and devotion to your family, hasn't able to curb your lust for bloodshed in the thousand years you've been alive, then I doubt some choice words from the human doppelgänger are going to suddenly set you on a path to enlightenment and a more stable moral compass." She was used to vampires not caring about her opinion; it was an unavoidable fact of her life, tragic as it might be. Compared to their 'infinite wisdom,' they didn't expect her to understand. All they'd have to do was ask to realize that she did.

"Too true. Spoken like a woman who knows when to pick her battles."

Elena shrugged, settling farther back in her chair, into the flow of the conversation. "It's served me well so far. I've lost too many people to act any differently. I'd never let my pride get in the way of saving a life."

"How noble." Kol planted his elbows on the table, chin propped up on a closed fist. "I must say, I thought Elijah would be more to your taste, especially if you operate on that particular line of thinking."

"Elijah said he'd never make the mistake of caring for a doppelgänger again, and he hasn't. Besides, he's been daggered for nearly half of the year; not a lot of time to bond," Elena quipped, evasive as she possibly could be. She didn't owe him an explanation of her sudden...attachment to Klaus. In truth, she didn't even have one herself, couldn't explain it or rationalize it: it simply was.

And for once, she'd let it be. She was simply grateful for its existence, the strength it gave her to face what lay ahead.

"And I can see Nik was more than happy to fill that role." Unfurling himself from the chair, Kol flicked an imaginary speck of lint off his jacket, straightening her hair clip has he passed her. Did the guy have no sense of personal space? "Showtime, doppelcheeks," he murmured, right before teh door swung open, almost unmoored from it's hinges, banging into the wall with an ugly clatter. "Gentleman, good evening," Kol drawled, smooth as a polished river stone, and just as cold. "I hope you're enjoying tonight's festivities."

"Where the hell is Elena?" Damon barged in, Striding across the room like he owned the place, too blinded by anger to even notice that she was right there.

Elena cleared her throat, tapping her foot impatiently. She wished that she still had on her heels, feeling like she could do with those three extra inches of height with the way Damon was looking down at her, but this was her fight, and she wasn't going to be scared of him, or worried how he'd react. It was time to lay everything out on the table, once and for all.

"Elena, what the fuck are you doing with this psycho?" Damon growled, fangs bared in a menacing snarl. God, how had she ever started to fall for him? He was staring at her like she was the enemy, *like she was in the wrong.

"Having a civil conversation, Damon. Ever heard of one of those?"

Kol whistled under his breath, the sound swallowed up by Stefan's encroaching footsteps, his polished dress shoes squeaking slightly as he pushed the door ajar behind him, nodding curtly.

"Damon. Elena. Whoever you are."

The Original offered his hand. "Kol Mikaelson, the devilishly handsome one. Or just the most devilish, depending on who you ask." Stefan didn't take it.

"Get lost, Floppy," Damon dismissed him, as if he didn't use humour like that all the time in fraught situations. "Elena and I have some things to discuss."

Elena ran her tongue over her teeth, hiding a frown, the true extent of her anger. "Such as?"

"Taking you home, for starters. You shouldn't be here."

And so it started. "I was invited, Damon. I want to be here."

"Oh, so now you want to put yourself in danger? You want to be Mama Mikaelson bait?"

"I want peace, Damon," Elena insisted heatedly, trying to make him meet her gaze. But his sapphire eyes remained firmly fixed on Kol; he couldn't even be bothered to look at her when he was belittling her. Figured. "And I'll do whatever it takes to get that." Well, not really, since she really didn't trust the woman, but she wasn't about to go broadcasting that to Damon, was she? Not if it put anyone else in danger.

Damon shook his head, silent warning brewing in the horizon of his eyes. "Don't make ultimatums, Elena. It doesn't suit you."

Stefan took a wary step forward, brow pinched with irritation, a permanent thumb mark in the clay of his forehead. "Damon..."

Elena steamrolled right over him. "Don't make demands of me, Damon. I'm not your girlfriend, I'm not your anything. I've trusted you, again and again and again, and been disappointed almost every single time. But that's over with now."

"Elena, he's just trying to do what he thinks is right."

"And do you agree with him? Do you think I should be bossed around, tossed around, between you, like I'm some rag doll? Even without your humanity, can't you see that this is killing me, that I don't want to live like this anymore? I've had enough, Stefan, of both of you."

"Elena, you can't listen to a word they say! I'm trying to keep you safe! If you want to talk to the psychiatrist witch so bad, fine, but don't be mad at me when I haven't done anything wrong! I'm only doing this because I love you."

"And that's supposed to, what? Excuse you? Give you a clean slate? Oh, it's okay if you've hurt me, hurt my friends, killed my brother, right in front of me, just because you were pissed at Katherine? For you to do the same with Ric, the only kind of parent I have left? It was okay for you to give me your blood, force me, not just when you thought I was going to die, but so you could get Emily Bennet's grimoires from Stefan? You say you love me, Damon, but that's not love. Not the kind of love I want to be a part of. And even if you really do love me, which I'm not even sure if you do...love does as much harm as it does good. Look what Esther did to her children, Damon, all because she loved them. She killed them, and then made them carry the consequences of that decision for the rest of eternity. I don't want to suffer like that; I won't."

The sound of the door opening punctuated her statement, Klaus and Elijah slipping softly into the room. Klaus gave her a conspiratorial wink. Elena tried not to smile, to remember where she was, what she was doing -this was her moment, after all- but those dimples made it really damn difficult.

Squaring her shoulders, she discreetly slipped her shoes back on, crossing the distance between her and the Salvatores in a few heartbeats. "It's time I make the decisions around here."

"Elena, stop, you're being ridiculous. You're just you."

"You're right, Damon, I am just me. And now I'm deciding it's time for you to say goodnight. The both of you."

Elena inclined her head, mouth set in a grim line, feeling rotten, fruit left out to spoil. In a blink, Klaus moved, snapping Stefan's neck with brutal efficiency. Before Damon could get a word out, he was crumpling to the floor beside him, narrowly avoiding a collision with the edge of Elijah's desk.

"Damn, Nik, you are so whipped," Kol exclaimed gleefully, clapping his hands like an overexcited toddler, obviously in his element.

The brunette pierced him with a glare, sharper than any dagger. "I thought you said you hadn't caught up on the twenty first century yet."

Kol beamed, as unrepentant as the sun rising in the morning. "I lied."

Klaus sighed, immediately pouring himself a drink, gesticulating his tumbler in the general direction of the floor. "Just get them out of here."

"Fine, fine, I'll be your errand boy. But only this once, and I expect some new grimoires out of this," the Mikaelson complained, hauling the pair up by the ankles as Elijah oh so kindly opened the door for him.

"Kol?"

He turned around at the sound of the hybrid's voice, huffing impatiently -perhaps he should have been the Big Bad Wolf of the family. "What now?"

"I wouldn't be...displeased, if they happened to wake up with a few more broken bones to add to their collection. All obtained by accident, of course."

Kol grinned, dropping Damon's leg to give Klaus a mocking salute. "Aye, aye, Captain."

"He is so weird." God, did she sound fond? He had a dark sense of humour and was oddly endearing with his indeed floppy hair. She reckoned he'd probably get on well with Jer. The thought scared her.

Klaus shrugged, pouring another drink. "He has his moments." Handing the glass off to his brother, he came to sit beside her on the desk, a large, callused hand coming to rest on her bare shoulder. She leaned into the heat, suddenly feeling cold all over. "Are you ready for this?"

Elena chuckled dryly. "Do I have much of a choice?"

He didn't even hesitate. "Yes. Say the word, and I'll take you to Cabo. Maybe Hawaii. I could do with some sun; I'm looking a tad pasty."

"I think you look very handsome."

Kol came back into the room, saving her the task of trying to explain why she'd just admitted that, but she definitely didn't dodge Elijah's probing looks, staring at her as if he didn't recognize her. Oh, the irony.

"Who's Esther's favourite?" Elena asked without preamble, getting back to the matter at hand.

"Finn," all three Mikaelsons said, without a speck of hesitation, resigned to it almost, as if it were a simple, unavoidable, fact of life, like gravity or never finding a cab when it's raining.

"So he's the one that will take me to her?"

Kol nodded, snatching Elijah's drink from his hand, much to his brother's noticeable chagrin. Siblings. "He's already looking for you now. I can hear him talking to Rebekah down the hall."

"What's she saying?"

Clearing his throat dramatically, the former witch began in a high, false falsetto, "'Why the hell should I bloody know where that doppelbitch is? Nik made his intentions very clear this morning after I tried to kill her; I'm not allowed to go near her. What do you want with her, anyway?"

"'Mother wishes to speak with her.'" He deepened his voice appropriately, sounding very much like he was trying to do a Batman impression. God, her life was so weird. At least this was more entertaining than scary.

"'Regarding...?'"

"'A personal matter. It's not for you to know, sister. Perhaps she rejoined the dance.'"

Klaus intervened threateningly, "Don't you bloody dare repeat that, Kol."

Kol ignored him. "Oh, I will. 'Or she's snogging Stefan's face off. I wouldn't blame her, he looks delicious in that tux." Bleh, Bekah, just gross. He's not even that pretty. Did you really date that guy?"

"He usually has a heart of gold; just have to find it under all the hair gel. Speaking of which, how long does it take a regular vampire's body to heal a broken neck?"

Elijah answered for her, "Fifteen to twenty minutes at most."

"So I better get a move on, then," Elena sighed, picking up her skirts in one hand, doing up the buckles on her heels with the other. Kidnapping Klaus' glass, she downed it's contents in one go, grimacing at the strong burn but appreciating the liquid courage; she needed all the bravado she could get tonight. She set it back down, smiling faintly at the imprint of her lipstick, a simple reminder that she'd been here, that she'd left a mark, even if it was on some random glass, that if she died tonight, she wouldn't be forgotten about. She couldn't ask for anything more; not everyone was so lucky.

Silently, she made her way to the door, ignoring the looks of sympathy from the two dark-haired Mikaelsons. Of course, Klaus couldn't let her go without saying something, always so eager to get the last word in. He took her hand away from where it rested on the doorknob, holding it in his, just like he had that night last week, like it was the most precious thing he'd ever held, fragile but not breakable. "Wait." He tipped up her chin, eyes a catastrophically mesmerizing shade of blue, like cerulean straight from the tube. "I want you to promise me, that no matter what, no matter what she says or what she asks of you, you don't put up a fight about it. While your bravery is both adored and applauded, tonight is not the night for it. Agree to whatever she wants, so long as it means you come out of there in one piece. Anything else we can deal with."

I can't lose you.

And as much as that meant to her..."Klaus, I have my principles. I won't abandon them just because your mother clicks her fingers or says some harsh words. You know me better than that."

His hold on her chin tightened ever so slightly. "And this is not up for discussion."

"Elena, we're doing this for your benefit," Elijah chimed in, no doubt noticing that they were going around in circles and that time was not on their side; she appreciated the brusque, business-like tone. It reminded her of simpler times. Simpler times being when his brother was going to sacrifice her. It felt so long ago now. "Esther will most likely have a privacy spell in place; we won't be able to hear you, won't be able to intervene if she tries to hurt you."

Elena inquired sadly, heart breaking for them, "You really think she means me harm?"

Elijah hung his head, a hangman's noose of doubt around his neck, weighing him down. "I wish I could be sure...but it's been a thousand years, Elena. I simply don't know anymore."

"Okay. It's a good thing I brought this, then," she declared, reaching into the bodice of her dress and pulling out her phone, as well as her tube of lipstick, smirking when Klaus' pupils darkened ever so slightly. She'd file that away for later.

Klaus shook his head as if clearing it of cobwebs. "I don't think you'll be able to fight off my mother with Scarlet Temptress, sweetheart."

"It's Cherry Red, actually, but that's not the point." Elena unscrewed the top, revealing a clear liquid inside.

"Vervain."

"It won't do any good against a witch, of course, but if she gets Finn to step in, it could buy me a few seconds."

"To what?" Klaus growled, running a troubled hand through his hair, missing up his perfect curls. "Think of some fitting last words before you die?"

Elena reigned in a sigh. She'd known he was the most passionate, outspoken one of his siblings...but it hurt to see him so worried. "Even the smallest of advantages could tip the balance in my favor."

"I suppose you're right."

"Can I get that in writing? Maybe with a nice frame?"

Klaus slipped his other arm around her shoulders, pressing a delicate kiss to her temple. "I'll write whatever you want so long as you come back to me in one piece."

"As if I'd ever leave you to deal with the hungry housewives of Mystic Falls on your own."

She took one last look at him, pulling out of his embrace, abandoning his safety and his warmth and that damn smirk and those blue eyes that saw all of her.

"Caelum denique, Elena dearest."

Elena raised a brow, confused. "What does that mean?"

"Google it when you get home."

Shaking her head, she bit her bottom lip, grinning up at him impishly through the dark fringe of her lashes. "Nah, I'll just make you tell me later. I can be very persuasive."

"I look forward to being persuaded by you," Klaus said, and let her go. Each step down the hallway felt like a mile, her breath sawing out of her chest. She could do this, the Mikaelsons believed she could do this. She was Elena fucking Gilbert, daughter of Miranda and Grayson, niece of Jenna, Jeremy's big sister, his protector. And, for them, she wouldn't be scared.

---

"Niklaus..." Elijah began before the door had so much as finished clicking shut. Klaus resisted the urge to bang his head against it. Couldn't he give him just one single second before he began his inquisition? Kol settled behind the desk, an spectator waiting for the performance to begin. He'd always been a fan of play.

Klaus decided to stall his older brother with his most powerful and effective weapon: diversionary humour. "I know, I know, I know. The vacation was a bad idea; you know I'd never leave you to uncover Mother's nefarious plots yourself."

"No, brother, that's not what I meant. My weighty sigh of disapproval was in regards to your treatment of Miss Gilbert."

"Treatment?" the blond echoed disbelievingly. "I thought I was perfectly gentlemanly. I wished her well and everything."

Elijah raised an eyebrow, a clear, 'That's not what I meant, stop being obtuse on purpose, it's irritating.'

"You were flirting with her!"

Kol sniggered very, very quietly. He was about to get a whole lot quieter if he didn't keep his trap shut. "Is that suddenly a crime now?"

"No, but Niklaus...it's Elena," Elijah said, as if that explained everything. It did, but Klaus was having too much fun with this, and it had the added bonus of distracting and stopping him from marching down the hall and grabbing Elena like some primitive Neanderthal and whisking her away, out of his mother's reach.

"Yes, I'm very well aware."

"The doppelgänger," his brother continued, leading up to something, of what Klaus couldn't begin to fathom. "Who you despise."

"It's true," Klaus conceded with an indulgent smile, "I don't always like the company she keeps, but despising her? No, never."

Elijah sighed, kicking Kol out of his chair, looking up at the ceiling like the answers he sought were carved into the wooden crossbeams and mosaic tiles. "I don't understand it. I'm daggered for not even half a year, and yet when I awaken, you're looking at her like she's ensorcelled you."

"If the next words out of your mouth are 'You have bewitched me, mind, body and soul,' I will throw you out the window. Of your own private study, no less."

"I just want to understand it, is all. I haven't seen you love, truly love anyone, since Aurora." Kol's head bobbed in agreement like an apple at Halloween. Ah, the pleasures of being ganged up on by ones family.

"I flirted with Katerina."

His expression turned hard as flint, immovable as stone. "You used Katerina." Gods, was he still upset about that? He'd done him a bloody favor! Elijah could do far better than that manipulative excuse of a woman, her feelings as fake as her Jimmy Choos and her hundred and one shiny bangles that clinked with so much noise whenever she moved, so desperate was she for everyone to notice her, to not be forgotten. Well, she got her wish; Klaus will never forget how she used his brother. That, without her, he could have been free five centuries ago.

But then he would have never come to Mystic Falls. He never would have met Elena...and what a deplorable shame that would have been, like missing out on the Parthenon, never discovering a new continent, never hearing Bach perform live. So, maybe she'd had her uses.

"And there was that werewolf in New Orleans..."

The resident trickster immediately perked up, scenting a new story like a reporter -but the only thing he'd be reporting on would be what it felt like to get kicked out of a room if he couldn't take any of this seriously. Klaus almost envied him his unflappable calm. "Ooh, who was that? I don't know about that one."

"You were in a box at the time."

Kol tipped up his glass, disappointed to find it empty. "Makes sense."

Elijah waved a hand, dismissing his history of romantic conquests -and Kol's contribution- as if it were no more than a bothersome fly. "A mere dalliance. That is not what this is, Niklaus, and you know it."

"How do you know that? I don't even know what this is! I just know, that when I think about anything happening to her...it feels like I can't breathe, 'Lijah." His eyes skated to his, revealing a chasm of vulnerability, a bottomless pit he always tried so desperately to hide. He felt. He hurt. He'd hurt for a thousand years, and now he'd finally found someone who made that hurt go away, at least for a while. It was as simple as that.

"Niklaus, she's a child."

Snarling, Klaus flashed across the room, hauling his brother up by his collar. "Elena is not a child. She's an adult, and deserves to be treated as such. Don't you dare dismiss her like that, even if she's not here." Klaus loosened his grip, scowling as Elijah straightened his tie.

Kol, wisely, scenting danger on the air like smoke, left the room.

"And what were we?" Klaus wondered, barely more than a murmur, a puff of breath, dispelled air. Dispelled grief. He slumped to the sliver of carpet by Elijah's desk, resting his head against it's many drawers. "What were we, Elijah? Old age pensioners? Kol could hardly even shave! Rebekah could still fit into the same dresses she was wearing at thirteen! We were children once, Elijah. We loved and were good and innocent. Before Esther took that from us. Her, and father. And Elena...she makes me feel like I can be that way again, like there's something in me worth seeing, worth knowing. Gods now why she ever would..."

Elijah reached out, clasping him on the shoulder, that touch he associated with love and promise and acceptance. "And does Elena know of this feeling you have for her?"

Klaus snorted, choking on a laugh. "You make it sound so simple, brother. I can't just pass her a note saying, 'Hi, I'm sorry I killed your aunt and drained you dry like a bloody Capri Sun, tick yes or no if you like me."'

"You're right," Elijah grimaced in agreement, "that isn't particularly eloquent."

"It's probably for nothing, anyway. For all I know, I could be dead by tomorrow."

His brother sighed heavily, used to this song and dance. "Ever the pessimist, my dear brother."

Klaus didn't miss a beat. "Ever the stalwart believer, brother mine."

"How about you try something new?"

He raised his head. "Such as?"

Elijah smiled slightly. "The fuel of heroes, the death of evil, the thing that dreamers rebel for and despots fear above all else. The thing that your Elena has, more than anybody else I've ever met: hope."

---

Elena pursed her lips, gloved fingers digging into the bare skin of her upper arms like she could claw out her mounting anxiety, pulling out an infested, infected weed. But weeds always came back, as did fear, and there was nothing she could do to kill hers. Fear meant she was alive, that she still had things to lose, that there was still love in her heart.

The eldest Mikaelson found her easily, chatting away to Mrs Lockwood, steering clear of the topic of Tyler but not hesitating to gush over the generosity of the Mikaelsons like a broken sink valve. "You must be Miss Gilbert. I'm Finn Mikaelson."

Immediately sensing that she wouldn't want any part in this, the Mayor immediately excused herself, but not before throwing one worried glance over her shoulder. She'd been close with her mom for years; she'd looked out for all of the kids, in her own way. But this wasn't her fight. It was no one but hers.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Mikaelson," Elena greeted him warmly, watching as surprise spread out across his face like a freshly-watered flower. Not used to niceties, it seemed. Or maybe hed simply anticipated her to be more wary, more hostile at his appearance, which certainly didn't bode well for her.

"My mother has informed me she wishes to speak to you." Not a request, not with that tone.

Elena smiled demurely as if she was used to such frigidness. She was. "Lead the way."

Turning on his heel, Finn cut his way through the small microcosms of people gathered around the staircase, leading her up and up, to the second floor. Which was weird, considering the distinct feeling Elena had that he was shepherding her down to hell instead, or at the very least the lair of some prowling beast. And her role, as always, was that of sacrificial lamb.

She turned on her phone, dialing Klaus' number, and prayed.

---

"Elijah, for Christ's sake, she's not mine-"

Klaus' phone rang, buzzing on the desk. The hybrid lunged for it, almost knocking the annoying device to the floor. Fingers shaking ever so slightly, he answered the call, hearing nothing but the soft shuffle of footsteps, the swishing of skirts against marble and Elena's raucous heartbeat.

A door opened. Klaus strained his ears, bypassing the chatter and clatter of the party goers, focusing on the rooms upstairs. The second floor, right down the end of the hall.

And then he heard it. His mother's voice, so falsely welcoming that it made his teeth ache, and he could so easily picture his smile in the eye of his mind, stretching her face like a morbid, rictus grin. Esther Mikaelson had not been made for smiling. That had died along with her first child.

"I see you got my message, Elena. Thank you for joining me."

"Your note didn't imply that I had much of a choice. It is no small thing to turn down the request of a Mikaelson." Gods, she was glorious. Respectful, yet still holding her own, walking the tightrope of propriety, feeling her out. She would have thrived in the courts of Medieval Europe.

"Thank you, Finn. That will be all." He heard the door click, lock. Leaving Elena alone with their mother. "I apologize if my children have given you that impression. Truly, I mean you no harm."

"And your little stunt with Vicki Donovan was, what? A hug from the great beyond? She tried to *kill me. Matt had to say goodbye to his sister all over again. Do you have any idea what that's like, the pain you put him through? Using someone when they were at their weakest, who just wanted to be alive again after their life was cut too short? Therefore, you'll forgive me if I'm a little dubious about the durability of your word."

Esther clicked her tongue, the sound doused in disapproval like a perfumed handkerchief. "You sound like my son, Elijah."

The Original in question raised a brow. "And you sound like every other bad guy I've come across, gender notwithstanding. What do you want from me?"

"Perhaps I simply wish to talk, to share with you my side of things," his mother said, and Klaus didn't buy it for a second. Neither did Elijah, if his barely audible sigh of annoyance was any indication. "I know Rebekah has tols you some of our history, but I'm sure an inquisitive girl like you must have questions."

"And you couldn't do that over a cup of tea or a nice chai latte because...?"

Klaus held in a snort at that. "Because you might not have agreed, and I very much needed you to do so."

"Like that doesn't sound threatening at all."

"Threats are my children's forte, not mine. You're free to leave here at any time."

"At which point Finn will no doubt drag me back inside until you get what you want, of course."

Esther paused. Something glass wobbled; Elena had caught her off guard. "You're cleverer than I'd anticipated."

"Haven't you been watching over this whole soap opera on The Other Side TV screen? If have thought you'd have realized that by now."

"And it has been a difficult existence, nature's way of punishing me for disrupting the balance. I'll admit, I have taken a special...interest in you, over the past year. Your exploits with the Salvatore brothers have been most entertaining."

"I'm glad I could provide a source of amusement to brighten up your afterlife for you."

Elijah began typing away on his phone, then held it up for Klaus to see. She will, undoubtedly, fit right in here when you pull yourself together and make your romantic intentions clear.

The hybrid smiled.

"Careful with that tongue, Elena. I have no patience for mockery."

"And I have no patience for mothers who hurt their children, who curse them and then make it near-impossible to break that curse, who let their father beat them all because of your infidelity. God, how do you sleep at night?" She was a whirlwind of incredulity and curiosity and outraged, and it warmed something in his long-cold heart to hear her come to his defense, despite all he'd done. He'd anticipated this, had known that she would fight for what she believed him...but it still took his breath away that she would ever think he was worth fighting for.

"Burdened by the weight of mistakes, I'll have you know. One of which I seek your help in rectifying."

"Well, unless you have a time machine laying around here somewhere, I'm not interested."

"Not even at the idea of eradicating your aunt's killer? Her name was Jenna, wasn't it? A lovely woman, an unfortunate casualty of your existence."

Wrong move. Not even he would stoop so low. Esther may have come back human, but she certainly didn't act like it. Yet it was Elena's voice that almost didn't seem human as she growled darkly, "Jenna's death was not my fault. Don't you dare guilt trip me, use her memory as an excuse."

Her heartbeat began to slow, like she was coming out of whatever feeling had possessed her. Clearing her throat, she began at a calmer module, "I know that you were the weapon meant to kill Klaus. We were confused when we found you in that coffin, learning you were his mother. Naturally, we all assumed that you wouldn't, couldn't kill him, not your own child. I guess we overestimated your humanity."

"I love my children, Elena, but they are an abomination. I've had no choice but to draw power from the Bennett bloodline, to come back and right my wrongs, especially now that Niklaus has broken his curse and is able to create hybrids. How can you not see that this is the right course of action? I saw you dancing with him tonight, the way he looked at you. I must warn you, my son does not care about anyone but himself and furthering how on goals." It was nothing he hadn't heard before, nothing Elijah hadn't heard before, or any other if their siblings, and yet...this was their mother.

Elijah pressed a hand into his shoulder. Klaus 'own reached up, encircling it, clinging to it, tethering the broken kite of his anguish.

Elena didn't miss a beat. "And yet he healed Caroline. He let Stefan live. He made sure that Damon got his blood when he was dying of a werewolf bite."

"Are you defending him, child?"

"I'm only saying that everyone is capable of goodness, that no one person is truly bad or good," Elena replied logically, not revealing a thing, how much she really cared. "And even so, you made them what they are, that was your choice. And now you're suddenly taking it back? How is that fair?"

"Haven't you learnt by now that life is not fair? You, the daughter of love and death, watching your parents die before your very eyes. Loved ones sacrificing themselves for you as if you are the most precious thing in the world. Isn't it time you put all those you care for out of harms way. If you give me your blood, you can. Your brother can come home, and you can live the normal life you crave so badly."

"How do you know about Jeremy?"

Klaus went very, very still. "My daughter was kind enough to share with me some of the world's most recent developments, such as this marvelous thing called Facebook. He seems like such a happy, talented young lad. I would hate to cut his life short prematurely, all because you could not agree to my simple turns."

He was going to murder Bekah. He was going to put her in a box and-

"You leave my brother alone, you heartless crone!"

His sentiments exactly. "Give me but a drop of your blood and I will. If I'm willing to kill my own children, you know I'll kill him to get what I want, to restore the balance. Your brother himself should have been long dead by now, brought back by your friend Bonnie with magic. I could very easily reverse that."

"You lay a hand on him and I'll make you regret it." Gods, she sounded like him. He didn't want to ever hear that tone again from her; she shouldn't be forced to change her nature, to forsake her compassion just to keep those she cared for save. That burden was his, and his alone.

"Such violence from one so young; it saddens me. Tatia would be so disappointed to see her progeny degenerate so much."

"From what I've heard, she was a two-timing, cheating bitch who strung Klaus and Elijah along like a grandma's knitting needle, so I'm not particularly worried. I'm not a monster. I don't care what Klaus has done, what Elijah or Kol or Rebekah or Finn have done; they don't deserve to be killed by their own mother. No one is beyond redemption, not even your children."

"You only say that because you care for Niklaus."

"I care about all of them, actually. I'll save them all for the sake of saving one. Klaus would never tolerate otherwise, and neither will I."

Silence filled the air. Elijah's clock ticked away. Klaus didn't move, hardly even breathed. Eventually, his mother demanded, "You really wong give me your blood?"

"No, I won't."

"Very well, Elena. Then I shall take it."

It took every ounce of strength, every minute fibre of Klaus' will, to not cry out when he heard Elena scream above the sounds of a knife slicing through flesh. He didn't even realize he was by the door until Elijah stopped him, gripping his arm, face paler than he'd seen it in years. "The essence will be in the champagne toast tonight. All five of them must drink it in order to complete the ritual and be linked as one. If you interfer in any way, if you tell but a soul of what I've done tonight, there will be consequences. Remember, Elena: Jeremy is all the way in Denver, but there are plenty of other people here in Mystic Falls who I can get to. Thank you, you may go."

Klaus waited a heartbeat. Two. Ten. Thirty. And then he was wrenching the door open, flashing up the stairs, not caring who saw him, searching for Elena. She was by the door, blood streaming down her arm, a copper-red gauntlet encircling her eight glove. As if she felt him near, she raised her head, ever so slightly, brown eyes brimming over with apology.

The next thing he knew, he was holding her in his arms as she cried.

---

Klaus took her outside, and Elena let him. She didn't have any more fight left in her, and she felt a little better to be out of the mansion, away from Esther. She knew they couldn't miss the champagne toast, that Esther would know of her deceit, especially if Klaus wasn't there, but she needed a minute before she could brave the crowds once again.

Draping his jacket over her shoulders, Elena clung to it like armor, like it could offer her some protection against the events of the awful night. Klaus was going to die. Klaus was going to die and it was all her fault, she hadn't been strong enough and now he was going to lose everything and she was going to lose him even though she wasn't even sure if he was hers to loose and...

"Shh, love, come on, it's alright, don't cry. You're far too pretty to be crying over me," he murmured, voice taking on a teasing lilt that on any other occasion would have made her smile. Tonight, it only made her angrier, knowing that this could be one of the last time she saw the true face of Klaus Mikaelson.

Her head snapped up, eyes shining with accusation like lanterns in the dark. "How can you say that? Klaus, you're mother's trying to kill you as we speak. How is any of this okay?"

"Because we'll stop her. Somehow, someway, we'll end this, once and for all. There has to be a way."

He sounded so calm. Too calm. And if there's not?"

"Don't think like that."

So he was scared then.

"And if there's not?" Elena repeated, voice wavering on the precipice of yet more tears. She was so sick of crying, she was so sick of everyone dying.

Gently, Klaus claimed her hand, rolling down the top of her glove, tender flesh rippling with goosebumps at the onslaught of cold air. With more tenderness than she could have ever possibly conceived, he pressed a handkerchief to her arm, wiping away her blood as he replied evenly, "Then I'll die, and that will be it. All will finally be well in Mystic Falls. You and your friends won't ever have to worry about me."

She batted away his hand, capturing his chin instead, his stubble scraping against the material of her gloves. "But I want to worry about you. I don't want you to die, not like this, not know what we've..."

A world of unasked questions swirled in those china-blue eyes. "That we've what, sweetheart?"

"Connected. Seen each other. Understood each other. For so long, I thought that there could be nothing good in you, that you'd ruined my life and that I wouldn't ever forgive you, that you didn't deserve it. But I was wrong. You were there for me, when no one else was. I was alone, and miserable, and I just wanted the pain to stop, for all of this to go away. That night, I looked over at the bridge and asked myself why I was still here, why everyone tried so hard to keep me alive. And maybe I don't have an answer, not yet. But all I know is...you offered me a bottle of cherry wine, and I got a so much more in return. And whatever the reason I'm still here, whatever it is I'm supposed to do with my life...Klaus, I want you in it.

This was the morning. She could feel it, anticipation fluttering her insides, a swarm of butterflies taking flight. Elena leaned, tilting Klaus' face towards hers and..."So, you like horses then?"

Instantly, the pair spun around, peering out behind a hedgerow. Caroline was standing there in her indigo dress, petting a midnight-black horse. With Kol Mikaelson standing right next to her, an impossible grin on his face. "I do. I haven't ridden on one since I was little, but there's something beautiful about them, I think. Being so free."

"Ah, but they're not quite so beautiful when they kick you in the ribs."

"That's Caroline."

Klaus chuckled softly. "I know, Elena, I have eyes. And ears."

Elena elbowed him in the ribs, straining to hear her friend's response. "I thought Original's were supposed to be durable."

"Oh, we are, darling, in lots of ways. Doesn't mean that we don't feel things, even pain, however fleeting. All those busybodies inside kept mentioning your father. I'm sorry, for your loss."

The brunette watched her shoulders tense, grief settling over her like a shawl; she knew it well. "Thank you."

"Is it your first as a fledge? A newbie vampire?"

"Yeah, it is."

"It'll be hard at first. But soon, you'll start to feel better." Kol's voice was serious, sympathetic, much different from his aloof, blase mockery from earlier. She didn't take it too personally; Caroline was a lot easier to be around than her, plus she had the added bonus of not looking like any of his brother's ex's.

"And you know this how? I thought you were the crazy psycho one who didn't care about anything."

"Depends on the day. On Wednesdays I like to throw in a little humanity, just to keep things interesting."

"Is Kol...flirting with Caroline?"

"It appears so, yes." He seemed just as shocked as she was, maybe even more so. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back, a hand covering her mouth...and laughed. Really laughed, tears collecting at the corners of her eyes, letting some of her stress out a long with it.

Klaus didn't seem disturbed by her outburst, on the contrary he seemed to have been expecting it, waiting to greet it like a hostess. "And there's the laugh. I can't believe my brother's pitiful attempts at wooing your best friend brought it out rather than my charming self, but...it's just nice to see it. I better go haul him in." Clambering over a patch of frostbitten grass, the hybrid hollered at the top of his lungs, "Kol! Kol, you git, stop chatting up women who are far too good for you and get your arse inside; mother's about to make her toast."

"Too true." The youngest Mikaelson peered over his brother's shoulder, gaze meeting up with hers. He winked.

Caroline was far less forgiving. "Hey, I was having a perfectly nice conversation there, you dick!" she yelled, hands on her hips in her cheerleader stance, clearing having none of it. Any other night, Elena would have found it funny, but there was so much at stake, more than she knew.

"It's fine, darling, I best be off. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Forbes. I hope you to see around," he said, offering her a bow before going back inside, whistling off-key.

Klaus turned to Caroline, exasperated as only a sibling could be. "Trust me, Caroline, you're better off. Kol makes me look like the Easter Bunny."

"Like I'd ever listen to your advice."

God, she was so gonna freak when she found out about them two. That was if he survived, of course. Or if she did.

And that hurt. She could see it in his stance, read it, him, like a favorite book. Which was why he undoubtedly said, just to be petty, "Why not? Elena certainly does," and sauntered back over to her, offering his arm, the fairy lights casting a false halo around his head.

Elena sighed heavily. "Was that really necessary?"

Klaus pondered a moment before insisting, "Absolutely."

"She's gonna ask me a million questions," Elena insisted, already picturing it in her mind. Her, Caroline, a tub of ice cream and a rom-com, complete with the awkward silence that comes from admitting you might -who was she kidding? Of course she did- have feelings for the vampire who killed you and your only living relative. She couldn't wait to pencil it in on calendar.

"And you can tell her a million nice things about me." He smiled, and damn of it didn't make her knees weak, didn't make her think of how much she would lose if she lost him. But she didn't want to make it worse, he wasn't oblivious to what was at stake.

And so, she played along, teasing him sweetly as she helped him out his jacket back on, "Are you sure? I think I can only come up with a couple thousand at most; I might need some help."

Straightening the fabric, he pressed a kiss against her cheek. "Like I could ever refuse you." Elena melted.

They'd passed back into the main foyer, and Elena watched as Esther made her way across the banister, gliding like a ghost, regal and composed in her long dress, not a hair out of place. She didn't look like a woman about to condemn all her children, but Elena suspected she'd made peace with it a long time ago. If she was looking for a conflicted woman, she would not find it in Esther Mikaelson.

Elena took a glass, actions mechanical and far-away. She barely heard her speech, too engrossed in the thundering sounds of her heartbeat, as if it wished to leap out of her chest and knock the glass of champagne from Klaus' hands. Blue eyes met hers, telling her not to worry, that it would all be fine.

"Bottoms up, sweetheart," he said, and signed his death warrant -and those of his family- with a sip.

---

Elena wanted to get out of there right away. She just wanted to go home, to burn the dress and cry and scream and stop this aching feeling that seemed to have seeped into her bones, her very marrow like a mist, weighing her every step. But no, the universe couldn't allow her even a moments respite, the hits had to keep on coming. The next came in the form of none other than Damon Salvatore, neck healed but temper very much intact.

"Finished your chat with Mama Mikaelson?"

Elena steeled her spin, readying for conflict. "I have."

"Good."

Taking her by the arm, he hauled her down the stairs, her heel catching on the steps, a mockery of Cinderella. This was no prince, and she was no princess; all she wanted to do was run back to the castle, even if there was an evil witch inside and a family of so-called monsters. At least they didn't try to hide who they really were.

"Damon, let go of me!"

He didn't move an inch.

"I said, let go!"

Damon spun her around, her feet sliding on the wet, uneven grass, a fitting metaphor for their relationship -they hadn't been on solid, equal footing in a long time.

"You know, I've been alive for quite a while now, have woken up in some pretty weird situations. But imagine my surprise when I wake up in a coat closet with a menagerie of broken bones with my temporarily dead brother beside me. A coat closet, Elena! Thrown away like I'm a Mento at the bottom of someone's purse! How could you do this to me? To Stefan? All we've both ever done is love you and keep you safe, and this is how you repay us? By teaming up with the Mikaelsons, the ones responsible for everything that's gone wrong lately? We're the good guys, okay? They're the ones in their drafty villain lair twirling their villain mustaches! I thought you were smart enough to see that."

"And I thought you were smarter than to drag me outside in the hearing range of three different Originals."

Like she hadn't seen this coming. Like she hadn't seen Klaus go off to talk to Bekah and caught Elijah's eye, just in case. "She's right, Mr Salvatore. Kindly release the lovely Elena and let us settle this like civilized individuals. Or is that too much for your juvenile sensibilities to handle?"

Damon shook his head, black hair spraying, mouth coloured in disgust. "God, why can't you talk like a normal person?"

"Because I'm not," Elijah merely replied, cool and calm and collected. "Now, don't make me ask again."

"Like hell am I gonna listen to you," Damon snarled, bringing her against his chest, her forearm pressing against her neck. A wave of vertigo, of deja Vu overtook her, and Elena wondered just how many times Damon would put her in danger and call it love.

"And what about me?"

All the air seemed to be sucked away, despite the fact they were outside. Damon finally seemed worried. But Klaus only had eyes for Elena, not even sparing a flicker of interest Damon's way. "You alright, sweetheart?"

Elena nodded, hoping to maintain some vestige of her dignity, making sure her voice didn't waver. "I'm fine."

"Good." Hands deep in his trouser pockets, he sauntered down the steps, every inch the Apex predator, and wanting everyone to know it. But she wasn't scared. This performance wasn't for her, it was for Damon, to make him think twice about pulling something like this again. Klaus was not to be messed with, certainly not tonight. "How would you like to die, Damon? Werewolf bite? Beheading? Barbeque?" He ticked them off on his fingers, smirk growing by the second. Oh, he was enjoying this. So she let him. "Or how about a sword to the chest, I hear it's all the rage these days. I could even shoot you. And wouldn't that be beautifully poetic? I, who saved your life, ending it the same way your father did all those years ago."

"Is this little speech coming to a point any time soon?" Damon drawled, covering up his unease with brittle sarcasm, as always. She used to find it charming, that whole 'Spitting in the face of adversity' thing, having the guts to go toe to toe with whoever decided to threaten them that weak. Now it just made her sad, especially when everyone gathered knew he was outmatched, himself included.

"Elena has been through enough tonight. Release her, right now, and I'll let you keep your pathetic excuse of an existence."

"Why? You're not exactly a charitable guy."

"No, I'm very much not," Klaus agreed amicably, stopping in the grass several feet away, hair shifting with the night time breeze, "but Elena cares about you, and I care about her, and I hate seeing her cry. So, one more time, let Elena go, Damon."

"Since when do you care about her? You only want her for her blood to use to make your freak army."

Klaus shrugged, effortlessly nonplussed. "Believe what you want."

Ever so slightly, he raised a brow at her, pressing his lips into a thin line.

With her free hand, Elena carefully reached into her dress, careful not to jostle Damon's arm. Pulling out her lipstick, she flicked the cap to the ground, hoping that Damon would one day forgive her if they were ever friends in the future, and poured the vervain over his arm, the skin immediately burning, bubbling like hot pavement in a New York summer. Jerking back, he let her go, holding his injured arm to his chest, the epitome of a wounded animal.

"You vervained me?" he screeched, more angry than pained, betrayal written all over him, glowing in the dark.

Elena nodded sadly. "Yes, I did. Were you really going to take me, against my will?"

"Maybe. Maybe you deserved it. Maybe I just wanted to see if your head was screwed on straight. Stefan! We're leaving."

Appearing out of nowhere, Stefan skidded to a halt, taking in the scene with wide eyes. "Elena, are you okay?"

A laugh escaped her, broken like a snapped branch, dark as the colour of the blood still clinging to her arm like a second skin. "It's a little late for that, don't you think? Don't expect to see me at the Boarding House any time soon." Klaus' palm settled on the small of her back, Elijah on her left, Kol coming in on her right, a declaration if there ever was one.

Elena was officially under the protection of the Mikaelsons, always and forever.

For however long fate decided that would be.

---

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I had so much fun writing chapter one, I immediately dived into chapter two. I'm sorry its so long, but I couldn't find anywhere to split it that felt natural. I'll probably have a bit of a break before working on chapter three. The Macbeth quote is, of course, not mine, as is any other recognizable content.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!

All my love, Temperance Cain.