Chapter two

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Niklaus Mikaelson was furious. 

As normal of an occurrence this seemed to be, Niklaus had never experienced fury like this in entire life. She was gone. His love, his wife, his world, she was gone. 

Niklaus had never once been apart from his sleeping beauty, as he often called her, always keeping her coffin clean, and daily checking on her. Every night, he would sit by her sleeping form, sometimes talking, or fixing her hair, sometimes just sat there, wishing, hoping, willing her to wake up. 

Even when a certain meddling Salvatore stole the coffins containing his family, Ellika remained safe with him, through the sheer luck - or possibly the stupidity of the young vampire -  that Stefan didn't think to check inside the house.

But now, as he sat in a room he had torn to pieces searching for her, she was gone.

And just his luck, the witches that he believed were behind this cruel act were nowhere to be found; their leader, Jane Ann Devereux, rumored to be dead.

Niklaus was determined, however, to get her back. No matter what.

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The bar was surprisingly empty, Elijah thought to himself. Although, having the oldest surviving vampire in the world sat in the centre of it probably did act as a slight deterrent to the many supernatural people of the French Quarter.

"So what brings you to the big easy?" The voice of the bartender pulled him out of his thoughts.

"I used to live here," the Original replied, looking up at the blonde.

"Really? When?"

"Oh, it feels like a hundred years ago." 

Something in the way the man said it made the bartender, Camille, uneasy. Almost as though he was sharing a joke with himself. Still, she continued on with her friendly conversation with the man in the suit.

"I just moved here myself. What brought you back?"

"Well my brother's here somewhere. I'm afraid he may have gotten himself into a bit of a bind."

"You say that like its a common occurrence," Camille observed, somewhat amused by this mysterious man.

"Well, he's complicated." That look was there again, the one that said there was much more to this story than she was being told. "Defiant," Elijah continued, "Ill-mannered, and a little..." He trailed off, sipping his drink, "Tempermental," he concluded. "See, we don't share the same father. Of course, that never bothered me, but my brother resents it deeply, never felt like he belonged, all told, my brother has a long history of getting into trouble."

 "And I'm guessing you have a long history of getting him out of it," Cami replied, and judging by the somewhat tired smile he gave her, she was correct. 

"What kind of bind is your brother in?" Camille asked, her curiosity now peaked.

Elijah seemed to sigh, before looking up at her with a hint of a sarcastic smile on his face before saying, "He believes there are people in this town conspiring against him."

"Wow," Cami laughed, "Narcissistic and paranoid." Elijah seemed mildly intrigued and she quickly explained with a chuckle, "Sorry, bartender with a grad degree in psychology, total clique."

Elijah smiled lightly before carrying on, "Listen," his eyes flickered towards her name tag, "Camille, I'm looking for someone who might shed some light on this current predicament, she works here, Jane Ann Deveraux, any idea where I might find her?"

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