AU: Klaus and Caroline are engaged and soon to be married. All their friends support their happiness, but Elena has difficulty trusting in Klaus's intentions. She hates Klaus with a passion. Little does she know that her hate is just as strong as he...
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She was blinded by envy. Scorching hot envy. Jealousy had slithered into her veins like a venomous snake, filling her heart with poison. What Davina was about to do was against everything she'd been taught by her elders. She sat inside a salt drawn circle and began to chant an incantation in Latin. Tears streaked down her face, quickly replaced by crimson blood as the furniture in the room started to tremble. The lights in her bedroom flickered on and off and the salt that she'd poured around herself was beginning to blow away. An invisible force had trespassed into the realm of the living and she was determined to bind it forever to herself.
With every passing second, her strength escaped her. She held on to remaining reserves of energy and completed the spell.
Inhale... exhale...
The temperature in Davina's bedroom had drastically dropped. She could see her own breath, which meant that she was here. She'd done it. She'd successfully completed a spell that had never been practiced by any other witches in the French Quarter. Davina had tapped into magic that was so dark, it was forbidden. But she didn't care. All she wanted was him, and if this was the only way to make him love her... then she was more than happy to sell her soul.
<///\\\>
The Mikaelson manor was dead silent. All the guests had long departed, leaving a deserted banquet hall to be cleaned by staff the following morning. A sleeping Hybrid lay in a king-sized bed alongside a brown-haired beauty. Their passionate lovemaking had exhausted them both of their strength. With one arm draped possessively around Elena's waist, Klaus did not stir when she suddenly sat up, breathing hard, terrified.
Lost and disoriented, she faced her lover in the darkness and found no trace of comprehension as to how she ended up in his bed chamber. Panic filled her blood stream. She threw her legs over the bed and reached for the silk robe resting on an armchair.
Afflicted with sudden vertigo, she staggered toward the wall.
These legs are not mine, she fearfully thought. Where am I? What is this place?
As she reached for the door, she paused when she noticed her full reflection in the mirror across from her.
No... how...
Slender fingers raked her face and hair, as if the features were completely alien to her. She stood in shock and horror, in disbelief of her physical existence.
Klaus remained fast asleep. She looked back at him, tears pricking her eyes.
He will never forgive me for this betrayal.
She had to leave. She had to run far, far away from him. The punishment would have been too severe if she stayed... if he found her. As much as she loved him, she feared him more. She wasn't sure where she would escape to, nor was she confident in her survival; all she knew was that if she stayed under that roof, she would be at risk... at risk of running into her captor. The Mikaleson's always stayed together... always and forever. She had to flee.
Her silken robe trailed behind her as she ran through a labyrinth; through long corridors and unmarked doors, until she reached an iron staircase. Freedom was close, or so she thought.
Down, down, down she went, padding her way around a corner with naked feet, expecting to reach her window of freedom... but her fragile body collided into solid muscle instead.
Terror in its rawest form claimed her mind and consumed it to the core. It was him-yet it wasn't at the same time. She recognized his face: his handsome features... but his clothing... his hair... his scent... all foreign to her.
"Elena, are you all right?"
She was a delicious little lamb; innocent prey that had been inevitably caught by a merciless predator.
"Elena," he softly spoke again, confused by her reaction.
His compassionate gaze had not betrayed the sinister monster that lurked within, she thought. She wanted to run. She wanted to run right past him and never look back. But something was beginning to crack her armored consciousness.
"Is something the matter?" he asked, genuinely concerned. "Why are you afraid of me?"
She took a step back and held out her arm, resisting, fighting an internal enemy that had no face. Her knees were giving out, ready for inevitable surrender. Ready to collapse at his feet. She fought. She fought with all her might to kill off the person he had groomed her to be... but it was no use. Tears misted her vision as she fell to the floor and bowed her head: a lowly peasant bowing before royalty.
"Please..." Her voice cracked. "Forgive me." Through silent sobs of anguish and shame, she found the courage to look up at him, expecting a slap.
His expression had not changed. Dark pools of warmth filled an empty cavern in her heart, and she feared it. She knew she was not worthy of such emotion, as he'd told her many times before; She did not deserve his compassion. She did not deserve love.
Another crystal tear spilled down her cheek. "Please..."
The realization settled into his mind as he slowly crouched, eye level with her. Her voice still belonged to Elena, but the accent... the accent was different. Elijah cupped her face and stared right through her.
