BK
After discovering Niklaus's neatly made bed, in his perfectly ordered room, Elijah believes Niklaus has abandoned him to be the one to clean up the aftermath of his poor decision. He is seething as he flagrantly strides into Bonnie's bedroom without permission from the sleeping witch, an impropriety he would never lower himself to do, but with Marcel's henchmen on their lawn, now was not a time for etiquette.
Elijah's face does not hide his consternation, meeting the full smug gaze of his brother sitting upright and alert beside a sleeping Bonnie. He immediately lowers his eyes, and turns his back, and directs his voice to the hall, "Did this Mama T betray you?" he asks, his voice heavy with embarrassment despite the threat at their door.
"Surely she knows it would not be in her best interest to do so," Klaus responds to his brother's turned back. With his temples throbbing from hunger, he hastily ties the laces on his boots and bellows to the maid in the hall holding a breakfast tray to bring him a clean shirt at once. "Come in Elijah," He urges, "As you can see we are both dressed." He snorts, looking over his shoulder at the stirring witch, pushing herself up in the bed.
Feeling as if she had just gone to sleep, she wakes to see Elijah in the door way, and hears the clattering of Marissa delivering her breakfast tray. Groggily, she recalls last night. How apprehensive she was to even close her eyes, and how she asked Klaus to stay a little while because she was grappling with the fear if she did sleep, she wouldn't wake up again.
And now, she gazes over at the rugged blonde man beside her in the bed, her eyes tracing his defined shoulder blades, and the sight grounds her— she made it through the night and he never left. Smiling softly, she impulsively reaches out, letting her fingertips rest over the line of his back, as if she had to touch him and know for sure, as if to stay to herself, 'I am alive, and it's because of him.'
Her heartbeat is in her palm, its rhythmic thrum on his back, and Klaus singles his many thoughts to her blood.
"Thank you." She rasps, her throat hoarse from sleep, vibrating through him, and he stands abruptly, gently shirking her embrace.
The gesture does not go unseen by Elijah, nor does the unease of his brother.
"We have company," Klaus says nonchalantly, avoiding her eyes. He motions to the silver tray at the foot of the bed laden with food, "Eat." He orders her.
"War is what you wanted and it has begun," Elijah whispers solemnly, stepping into the room and curiously observing Bonnie dressed in Klaus's pajamas, her slender hands brushing her wild hair from her face, as she asks Klaus what's wrong.
Klaus offers her a wry smile and tells her not to worry.
Marissa scurries into the room holding a fresh white button-down. "Marissa, show the guests at the door to the parlor," Klaus instructs.
Elijah frowns deeply and Klaus retorts, "We cannot be rude Elijah; we have to invite them in."
"Do you think it is wise to invite Marcel's minions in our home?"
Rolling up the cuffs of each sleeve, Klaus impatiently huffs, "Marcel is only flexing his muscle. It is what I would have done," he says, stepping closer to his brother, out of Bonnie's earshot to continue, "But I would have begun with burning down the house and everyone in it." He beams proudly.
"Thankfully, Marcel does not have your savoir faire," Elijah says gently, "Are you prepared?" He asks Klaus while gesturing his head toward the witch.
And before Niklaus can muster a lie, a few words to convince his brother that Bonnie has shown him she can secure a victory, Bonnie interjects, "Who is Marcel?"
The brothers shoot each other pointed looks.
"Marcel is the vampire King of New Orleans," Klaus answers Bonnie, fully aware that he has dropped a bomb on her but he is distracted by his appetite, and he is somewhat delighted by her confusion, watching her mouth fall open and quickly close as she hesitates getting closer to him and his brother, wearing his clothing, imbuing his pajamas with the scent of her, making his gums itch.
"Vampire?" Bonnie says, her small world expanding as she peers from brother to brother, her stomach feeling as she is on the precipice of a drop.
Elijah gives her a tight smile.
"Yes, a vampire, so is Elijah," Klaus explains, nodding to the polished original while buttoning the length of his shirt, "He is an original vampire at that," Klaus boasts, patting his brother's shoulder, and then turning his full attention onto Bonnie, "But I am the hybrid," He states as if that is enough for her to know he reigns supreme.
"Vampires aren't real," She whispers to herself, suddenly wanting to talk with a faux Romanian accent and count peanut butter sandwiches. She grimaces at Klaus, scrunching her forehead and shaking her head like he's messing with her, "Right?"
Klaus looks at Elijah and Elijah deeply sighs because his younger sibling is impetuous and loves a surprise attack and because he knows what he is going to do next.
The Original Hybrid runs a finger under her chin, and brusquely bares his fangs to prove his point, "I assure you love. We are real."
BK
The brothers enter into the grand parlor situated on the west side of the mansion, decorated in patterned blue silks and gold brocade and delicate French furniture, antiques acquired from a Monarch or three that had lost their heads.
And Claude announces their arrival to their guests, listing their titles and lineage, a bygone practice for a bygone time while Klaus is lost in replaying how Bonnie's pupils dilated at the sight of his fangs, and how she recoiled, and how even when Elijah excused himself to give them a moment, and he had pulled her to him to get her to stop shuddering, how strained her voice was when she asked, "Are you going to kill me?". And he answered by pressing his mouth on her hair, tasting her magic, and telling her that he just got her before commanding her to stay upstairs.
On the powder blue chaise is a young brunette in frayed cut-off shorts, a tight black tank top stretched across her pert breasts. Her scuffed and dirty red combat boots are lounging on the four-hundred-year-old table in front of her and she has a pout on her face like even if he or Elijah were to inform her of the pricelessness of the piece she wouldn't feel obliged to place her boots on the floor. And standing behind the young woman (who Klaus assumes is a witch by her very human heartbeat) are the menacing vampires in her tow. A bald brown-skinned vampire who looks like he was a bodyguard in his former life with his black t-shirt two sizes too small for the girth of his biceps, and on the other side of the chaise is a tall and lithe Japanese vamp, with long jet-black hair tied into a knot on his crown. His fingers are bandaged in white tape like he had prepared for a boxing match that isn't going to happen, and he is dressed in skinny blue jeans and a yellow t shirt with the words, 'Happiness is a Positive Cash Flow' in red ironed on letters.
Klaus is invigorated by the intrusion of the rag-tag group and rubs his palms together with a smile, "Welcome to our home. Any friends of Marcel's are friends of ours. Would you care for anything?" He asks and sees the vamps look at each other considering the offering.
But the seated brunette, busy picking at the mosquito bites on her tanned legs, snorts and glances up at Klaus and Elijah and says, "You boys done fucked up, you know that?"
Klaus spies Elijah from his peripheral and he can feel his brother willing him to not impulsively tear the girls head from her body and drop kick it across the room.
A glass tumbler filled with vodka makes its way into his hand by the way of his brother who also passes drinks to the vamps and to the brunette who doesn't acknowledge Elijah, obliging him to place the glass on the table by her feet.
"And this ain't no friendly calling. You think I wanna be here to see you at the crack of dawn with Black Dynamite and Bruce Lee?" She says, jerking her thumbs at the vamps to either side of her.
Klaus runs his tongue under his teeth behind his close-lipped smile.
He pulls a cream-colored chair from the other side of the room to sit directly across from the brunette. He crosses his legs and says, "I take you are not a part of Marcel's first string of witches," He says, venom dripping in each word while he sips his vodka, contemplating how his beverage could be improved with her blood.
"Mais non cher'," She laughs, "Anne-Marie Boudreaux is my name," She says, narrowing her beady dark brown eyes on Klaus, "Be glad you got me and not the Circle, I can tell ya' want a shot and if anyone of them were here you would be as good as gone."
"Then let us not waste anymore of each other's time. Why are you here?"
"Marcel ax' me to pay you a visit," She says, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her shorts, "He sends his bottom witches to deal with the trash," She says like it was an honor. "We in ya' home cause Angelique got a sign last night that a witch brought someone back into this world. Wasn't long before she pinned it was Ole Mama T, rest her soul."
Klaus lifts a brow, "Rest her soul?"
"He don't even know he fucked, ya'll," She says, looking over at her vamps shaking their heads in disapproval. "Yep, she's gone. I'm shocked you can't hear the whole lower Riverside weepin' and hollerin' about it way over here," She says, shooting a glance at the floor to ceiling windows lining the front wall. "The other neighborhoods are quiet, and they'll be silent until the burial, but soon you'll hear them too."
"I am sorry to hear of Therese Guidry's death, "Klaus says, using the deceased witch's full name, "I do not think Marcel divulged that I am a personal friend of the Guidry family. I have been a family friend to the Guidry's for over several generations, so I am saddened by the news but I cannot see the correlation of her death and Marcel sending his cronies to my home."
Anne-Marie lazily rolls her eyes and says, "He sent me to see what ya' and Mama T brought back."
Klaus gulps the last of his vodka, "I have not brought back anything. I have not seen Therese Guidry since she was a ch..."
The third-string witch interrupts the hybrid, "Listen, I may have fallen out of my mama's pussy at night but it wasn't last night. We know ya' was working with Mama T, and that Mama T resurrected a being. Ain't too many witches can bring a life back, and even less got the power to do it and live another day. So for that ol' witch to give up her own life to do just that, then I hope it's 'cause you convinced her to bring back Jesus himself and it's not 'cause ya' strong-armed her to bring back some two-bit ass witch to battle with Marcel, 'cause that will be very bad for ya', my friend," She says and the parlor doors behind him instantaneously fling open, "I pray what you got is that bastard from Nazareth hidden in this house 'cause everyone looked up to Mama T, even me."
Klaus wants to feel her pulsating heart in his hands. He has been in the presence of witches most of his existence and he can gauge power. He can measure how far it radiates from their pores, how the air sparks around them, and the intensity of the smell of magic on their person. And Anne-Marie definitely reeks of magic, along with swamp water and tanning oil, but all it takes is one distracted moment from her and he could have her heart in his palm in the blink of an eye.
The witch upstairs will be that exact distraction.
He relishes in this thought. "Elijah, "Klaus says, beaming a fiendish smile at Anne-Marie, "Bring me Bonnie."
BK
Out on her bedroom balcony, freshly showered and dressed in a borrowed white dress, Bonnie leans over the railing. Her stomach is folded, and her feet are anchoring her on the hot bottom rail. Her dark brown hair hangs upside down as she attempts to determine what is beneath her bedroom, hoping there aren't windows, where a Marissa or a Claude can witness her jump.
Or worse, a vampire.
Lifting up quickly, she looks back at her darkened room, and back out over the garden - past the imported Italian marble fountain of Venus and the intricate labyrinth of shrubbery - to the wooden gate at end of the path, leading out into the streets of New Orleans.
A brass band bangs loudly on the other side of the ivy-covered brick, and she thinks, what a strange place, with its strange creatures. She believes she fell asleep and woke up in a nightmare, a place where she watches in horror at a face, she was only moments ago, comforted to see when she woke up. A face she thanked. Transform. See the veiny black lines crawl across his once smooth face, a dark map across the gleaming white skin, traveling upwards to his eyes, glowing bright gold, glittering and enlarged, and see his head thrown back, brandishing elongated and sharpened eye-teeth, paralyzing her.
A trolley moves down the street, the scrape of metal on metal cuts through the Dixie-land jazz blaring outside the mansion.
She should hop from the railing now, get on the tram barefoot and ask the conductor, "Can you take me home?"
This is how Elijah finds her, her bedroom door ajar, and the chaos he had overlooked when he hurriedly barged into her room confronts him now. Her untouched breakfast, her tossed sheets and feathers, so many feathers strewn about the room. Silently, he observes her, dangerously leaning over the railing, bending over in such a way that her dress rises, hinting at the curve of her ass.
Like his brother, Elijah is a predator, lured by prey, and he is instantly affected by the sight of her, the smell of her, her terrified mulling over whether to jump, but unlike Niklaus, he is committed to rising above his vampiric instincts, resisting the pull of reckless impulses.
He clears his throat. Watches her knuckles grip the metal and her spine stiffen.
"Klaus would like for you to join him downstairs." He says the invite, but his tone clearly indicates she does not have a choice, though he wishes she did.
She tosses him a frown over her shoulder, "I thought you wanted us to be friends." The sunlight is in her vision, and she can't make out his face. She speaks to the suit standing in her dim room, "And I almost hoped we would even though I shouldn't have," She adds, straightening her shoulders and standing up to every bit of five feet and three inches, thinking Klaus's instruction from last night might have been a forewarning on how to behave around such creatures as them.
"You do not need to be afraid of me." He answers, believing his words.
"Yes, I do," She says softly, glancing back at him, her painful eyes accusing him.
BK
The soles of Bonnie's feet are glued to the hardwood with sweat as she fidgets in the parlor under the penetrating stares of various sets of supernatural eyes. She shifts her weight from one leg to the other and catches her lip between her teeth as she waits for some word from Klaus or Elijah as to why she was requested.
Small bumps rise over her skin as she watches the pupils of the men - on either side of the dirty brunette on the couch- enlarge until the black overtakes the whites of their eyes. They simultaneously groan, roused by her presence, their jaws constricting. She had never seen fangs before Klaus had demonstrated earlier that he was in fact something she has only believed to exist in folklore, but beholding the elongated canines of the vampire strangers before her makes her think she should get used to the sight of the monsters.
"Ain't she sweet," Anne-Marie drawls, pushing herself up from the chaise, "Don't worry angel, you can come a little closer, I don't bite and neither do they -unless I say so."
Bonnie doesn't budge; she's anticipating a different direction from Klaus who has his back to her.
He hasn't turned around once since she entered the room.
"Tell her to come closer so I can get a good look at what you got," Anne-Marie orders Klaus.
Klaus makes no retort and Bonnie's anxiety heightens because she doesn't feel comfortable following this woman's request. She glances over to Elijah, but she can't decipher his expression, she doesn't know if his crinkled forehead is a warning for her to stay put or go.
Klaus finally snaps his fingers, the sharp click echoing in the quiet room, and then he murmurs for Bonnie to move from under the doorway and let Anne-Marie have a look at her.
Reluctantly, she unsticks one foot, anxiously questioning in her head why this woman wants to get a closer look at her, and what will happen once this woman peers into her, lays her hands on her, but her thoughts are unexpectedly cut short by Elijah seizing her wrist, yanking her forcefully to his side.
She collides into his shoulder, smacked by his cologne and the strength in his arm, and the guests are momentarily stunned, their faces reflecting the unexpected turn of events. He moves Bonnie behind him, her toes touching the back of his boot heels and his broad hand, once on her wrist, shifts to firmly grip the curve of her hip, daring anyone to approach.
"This is my human, only I speak for her, and I decline Ms. Boudreaux's wish," Elijah asserts with calm authority, his fingers denting her waist.
Elijah's outburst surprises the guests and annoys Klaus who rises swiftly, knocking over the chair.
"Elijah," Klaus growls, "Step aside."
"As a loyal subject of Marcel's kingdom, I respectfully ask you to leave my home," Elijah answers, ignoring his brother.
Bonnie's is frantic, she tries to look around Elijah but he holds her in place, intent on shielding her from them.
"She's yo' human?" Anne-Marie laughs, "You went through all this trouble to bring back yo' bloodbag?"
"What the hell are you doing, Elijah?" Klaus yells.
Elijah dismisses him, "No, not for a blood bag. But for my beloved. Marcel can surely understand a man's want to resurrect the woman he loves."
Bonnie smashes her forehead into his back, waits for him to signal to her their next move.
"Ya' mean to tell me that that pretty little thing you holding on to for dear life is yo' lover?"
There is a moment of silence and Bonnie can hear her own heartbeat before Elijah says, "I fell in love with her the moment I laid eyes on her."
Anne-Marie mawkishly puts her hand over heart and sighs, and places her fists on her hips and saunters over to the couple, "You and I both know you ain't neva even smelled this two-bit witch's snatch, let alone been her man."
Elijah offers the witch a cruel smile, "Madam, I think it is time for Claude to escort you and your guards out."
"I'm done playing," Anne-Marie spits, shaking her head as Elijah wails, crumbling to the ground, clenching the sides of his temples, exposing Bonnie.
Bonnie stumbles backwards and Anne-Marie steadies her by catching her shoulders, "I'm gonna keep frying yo' boyfriend's brains until you tell me what I need to know."
Nodding wildly, Bonnie stutters, "I don't know very much, I was born yesterday. "
And even though that is the god honest truth, she knows how ridiculous she sounds as she stares into the dark hawk-like eyes of Anne-Marie and catches a blur of yellow glowing eyes behind her.
"Who are you?"
She knows this one and she steadily states, ""I'm Bonnie."
Anne-Marie shakes her violently and Bonnie wishes that Klaus had taught her more than how to close the balcony doors last night.
"Bonnie what? You ain't got a last name?" Anne-Marie spits angrily, her fingers digging into Bonnie's arms.
She closes her eyes, closes herself off to the nails embedded in her skin, turns off Elijah's screeches, and she patterns her breath to her pulse, slowing both down until she can see a name, and she moves her lips to say, "Bennett. My name is Bonnie Bennett."
Which Bonnie thinks must be the magic words because Anne-Marie lets her go and Bonnie clamors that she will tell her everything she knows if she will stop harming Elijah.
But Anne-Marie looks at her dumbly and distorts her mouth in disbelief, "How in the hell is a Bennett working for vamps?"
And before Bonnie can reply, Anne-Marie contorts her fingers into a hex, and Bonnie buckles, knees crashing into the floor, palms splayed and her back arches as she screams from the phantom needle piercing through her temples and shock waves rolling through her spine. She screams for Klaus until his name is lost into a succession of high-pitched cries of pain. Her eyes are wide open but she is blinded by the white-hot throbbing and she begins to lose awareness.
The last thing she perceives is the blood leaking from her nose, dripping into her mouth.
And the present disappears.
She is not dying in the Mikaelson's parlor by the hands of one of Marcel's throwaway witches. She is instead at a picnic; the balmy summer breeze clinging to her as she stands in the midst of a crowd, struggling to see the Fourth of July decorated stage. She shuffles between bodies, inhaling the scent of barbecue and apple pie, and as she stands on her tippy-toes to get a look at the speaker, she recognizes the chocolate-skinned man at the mic.
And the man winks at her and speaks in Klaus's voice, "Try not to die, love."
Air.
Big gulps of air fill her lungs as she pants on all fours, falling to her side to place her hands at her throat, gasping for air. And her skull is still ringing but she braves an eye open and is met with the glassy, lifeless eyes and agape mouth of Anne-Marie's corpse crumpled next to her. And she coughs hysterically, clearing passageways for more air as she glances upward at the pair of boots inches from her head to see Klaus beaming as he holds the witches bloody red heart in his hands.
BK
Klaus and Elijah argue as Bonnie realizes she isn't dead again but wonders if that is a good thing when she looks over the carnage in the room.
Decapitated vampires are slumped in each corner of the parlor, their heads thrown haphazardly. One head landed upright on the chaise, now beyond repair, appearing as if frozen mid-speech. The other head lay face down, covered in soot, in the fireplace.
"You resurrect the Bennett Witch over our siblings in the name of war and she's not even capable of protecting herself, "Elijah confronts Klaus, dusting off his suit from having rolled around on the floor.
Laughing, Klaus licks at his blood-covered fingers, "She needs proper training, that's all." He assures his brother, finally satisfied with some blood.
They talk about her like she's not there, and she listens to them discuss her lack of abilities as a witch as she takes up a seat beside the head on the chaise, thinking of the man at the mic in her pain-induced vision.
"After what you have just witnessed, do you really think she will be capable to defend you against Marcel?" Elijah spits.
"Oh, ye of little faith," Klaus smiles, "She will do more than defend me against Marcel. She is how I am to become King."
Elijah scoffs, "Forgive me if I do not share the same confidence."
Klaus snorts. "That is a shame, I had assumed you would be a champion for your beloved. " Klaus says, his face darkening as he subtly questions his brother on his earlier behavior.
Elijah looks over at Bonnie, dazed and bloody, and he states, "I only said what I said to protect her. You will have her as a sword when what the girl needs is a friend."
BK
Bonnie's dress is soaked with blood, the skirt cleaves to her thighs, sticky and damp as she sits in the passenger seat of the Suburban.
She was able to wipe the splatters from her face from a borrowed handkerchief from Elijah.
It sits balled up in her lap now.
After the brothers buried the bodies in the rose garden behind the labyrinth, Klaus whisked him and her immediately out onto the road in his armored SUV.
Elijah had wanted to have Bonnie examined, have her taken to the nearest hospital, and have a doctor determine that the witch hadn't done anything harmful to her brain. His concerns were all very human.
"She's not yours to worry over, Elijah."
There was no more debate. Bonnie was carried to the car, her legs and bruised knees dangling over Klaus's arms.
Forty-five minutes out of the city and she has yet to utter a word since seeing Klaus hold the heart he tore from Anne-Marie's ribcage.
"Tell me if you are okay, little witch."
He can't take her silence. He can't understand it. She is no longer in distress, screaming for him on her hands and knees in his parlor. He had killed Anne-Marie and the vampires. He had slayed the dragons on her behalf. He thinks she should be fine.
He repeats the question and when she still won't open her mouth, he abruptly careens the SUV across two lanes, narrowly avoiding a family of four in a minivan.
The suburban jumps over a ditch, and she jostles violently, her head hitting the ceiling as she flails about, trying to brace herself against the dashboard. The passenger side swipes a tree, bark flying out in front of the vehicle.
And before she can take a relieved breath, he quickly bites into his wrist, blood dripping onto the leather seats and armrest. Shoving his wrist toward her mouth, stressing that she needed to drink, his voice heavy with threat.
Desperately she reaches for the door handle, only for him to hold it shut, keeping her trapped while she pushes herself back into the leather, struggling to bat his wrist away from her.
She doesn't want to be a vampire, she doesn't want to be a monster.
He palms the back of her head, and she makes small noises, she tells him please and no as he forces her mouth to meet his open veins. He yells at her to listen, assures her it won't make her one of them, only make her stronger.
Some of the blood makes it past her gums and the stabbing migraine she is experiencing dissipates.
His blood is thick. Thick like molasses. And it tastes like how she imagines the colors red, yellow and blue must taste. And it smells of rain on concrete. Drinking his blood is like reaching the bottom of a milkshake glass, slurping up the last remnants, already yearning for more.
At least he didn't lie to her. She does feel strong. As strong as an 18-wheeler. As strong as that sailor who eats spinach to knock out bad guys. And strong as a witch geared up on original vampire blood.
When he releases the back of her head, he asks her the question again.
A scream of overwhelm is lodged in her chest, but she tamps it down. Instead, she fakes a smile. A peek of blood smeared teeth through parted lips. And the man who resurrected her and sat vigilant over her while she slept, who she now recognizes is not a man at all, but a killer, well it's enough for him to start the engine, and get them back on the road.