Age of Innocence (klaus mikaelson)

Unique

"What do you say Bertha?" Grace asked as she tried on the different dresses at the shop. Her birthday was coming up soon and she just couldn't wait to find the perfect dress for the party.

"You look marvelous. You look dazzling in every single one," Bertha said entertained with the young girl. She was so full of spirit. In such a short time, she had fallen in love with the girl's attitude on life. Grace was constantly talking and analyzing. She was smarter than she looked, and Bertha knew this. Grace was beyond her years and it was easy to underestimate her. She was very well educated and did not hold herself back like most young girls were taught.

"None of them stand out to me," Grace said looking around. "I should speak with the shop keeper. He might have something." She rushed to the front of the store, bumping into someone. "Pardon me," Grace said apologetically.

"No need for that," he said and she looked up to see a man with dark, brown eyes. "That's quite a dress."

"Thank you, but I'm not quite sure about it," she laughed.

"I think it's absolutely gorgeous," he complimented and she blushed. "I didn't quite catch your name." He smiled with amusement.

"I am Grace, daughter of Thomas Ulrich," she introduced bowing her head in respect.

"Elijah Mikalaelson," he returned the gesture.

"It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Mikaelson," she smiled and went to the shop keeper.

Grace finally found the perfect dress and bought much more. Her father was one of the most powerful men in town. Her family name was all over. Everyone knew who she was. She was treated like a queen.

"Thank you for your time, Bertha," Grace said with a smile.

"Of course, Grace," Bertha smiled. Bertha already held a deep respect for Grace. She saw the way Grace treated others and saw far past their exterior. Her innocence gave her this beauty she didn't realize she had. Grace made Bertha realize there were still good people. There was hope for this awful world they lived in.

When they got home, they found visitors. Servants and slaves came to help bring in Grace's stuff. Marcel was one of them.

"Grace, come meet some new friends of mine," her father welcomed her and she smiled. Before introducing herself, she turned to the help.

"Thank you all very much. If you could please take them up to my room, I would really appreciate it," Grace smiled and they nodded. Marcel was having a hard time carrying a dress so Grace gave him some advice. "If you fold it like this," She showed him and he nodded thankful. "It'll make it much easier. I don't mind wrinkles." He chuckled and she joined everyone in the room. They all seemed surprised by her actions.

"I am truly sorry for that. She doesn't know better," Thomas began. "Grace, maybe you should go upstairs," Thomas said embarrassed.

"Are you sure, father?" Grace said with scrunched eyebrows.

"Very," he said annoyed in a way. Grace's mood was instantly put down. Thomas believed Grace had no idea what was going through his head, but she did. She knew more about him than he knew.

"Very well then," Grace went up to her father and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight, father."

"Goodnight, darling," he said practically rushing her to leave.

"I hope to see you both again," she looked at the man and woman on the couch. The man had blue eyes and blond locks. The girl was the same but her hair was a lighter shade. Grace guessed they were siblings. They both nodded and she left to her room.

"I do not understand my father. Sometimes I feel like I am not good enough. Like, somehow, he is embarrassed because of me," Grace said sadly as Bertha combed her hair. "I can't stand to simply sit and look beautiful for him. It makes me feel like a mere object meant for him to show off."

"I am sure that is not true. Your father loves you," Bertha reassured Grace.

"Am I strange?" Grace asked sadly. No one ever understood her. She felt as though she was alone in the world. She was constantly looked at strangely and told to keep her thought to herself.

"No, as I tell my son, you are unique," Bertha advised and made Grace smile. Bertha made her feel safe to express herself.

"Your son will become a great man. I know it," Grace said truly believing her words.

"I do as well," Bertha smiled thinking of her son. The boy too white to be a slave, but too black to sit at the table with his father.

"Well, goodnight Bertha. May God bless you," Grace snuggled into her bed.

"To you as well," Bertha said leaving the room, amazed by every word that came out of the fifteen year old's mouth.