DISCONTINUED!
blurb;
➤ in which a former allemey (ally-enemy) of the mikaelsons breaks the curse that was bestowed upon her, seeks to wreak havoc upon the petrova doppelgänger bloodline, and leaving them in chaos, ashes and blackness - and eager to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CASSIOPEIA KNEW SOMETHING WAS wrong the second alaric saltzman had called in the elena protection squad, yelling something about a certain santa klaus holding jeremy hostage — and quite frankly, cassiopeia couldn't care less.
of course, she thought the gilbert boy was a better company than elena gilbert but she didn't deem him important enough for her to move a finger.
at this point, they're not even trying to keep brooke springer away from all the supernatural business.
"you — you're not alaric." cassiopeia heard bonnie say in shock, and sipped on her drink.
"you're klaus." elena whispered silently.
huh. what a newsflash.
"of course he isn't, ten points to the useless doppelgänger," she mumbled sarcastically, unintentionally saying it out loud.
with wide eyes, all of them turned around — even... impostor alaric. klaus-alaric — uh, klaric.
"how... how long have you been standing there?" caroline asked, her voice shaky, her desperate attempt at breathing steadily failing miserably.
cassiopeia blinked calmly, lifting an eyebrow. and then she sighed, letting her innocent facade finally fall. "i have been standing here long enough to tell you it's a preposterous idea to go against the hybrid. just sacrifice elena, it would get rid of all your problems."
it's not even a lie.
"how long have you known?" elena yelled in betrayal, emphasising the last word, absolute fury and pure despise swirling in her chocolate brown eyes.
cassiopeia let out a giggle that slowly turned into a loud, manic laughter, like a lyrical crescendo.
"oh dear, dear elena... i know everything." she chuckled, bursting out laughing once again, as she mindlessly threw her drink in the air, making it crumble into ashes in the process with just a fragment of her true power.
"you're — are you the monarch?" damon spit out in disbelief. "you, little brooke?"
