#rebekah

If there’s one perfect example of the Mikaelson men repeating themselves, it would have to be the hostage problem. Rebekah can’t even begin to count the amount of times she’s witnessed the same damn thing over the centuries. At this point, it’s starting to border on ridiculous, yet the only one who seems attuned to this problem is Rebekah. And it’s not as if her brothers are really that keen to listen to her, anyway. Certainly not about something like this.

Every time, it starts and ends the same:  one of her brothers, maybe even Rebekah herself, will drag in some human or vampire or witch to serve as a hostage during one of their many disputes with the neighbouring supernatural beings. They’ll chain up this poor sap in a cell, or lock them in one of the many rooms of the Mikaelson mansion. At first, all will be perfectly ordinary. The hostage will beg and plead to be rescued, Rebekah’s family will laugh scornfully from atop their ivory towers, and everything will go as planned.

But then the negotiations don’t happen as quickly as they would like, and the Mikaelsons end up spending a lot more time with their hostage than initially envisioned. They have to tolerate the company of this foreign presence more and more, especially since the hostage often ends up being a key part in someone’s plans, and information is required from them. Then, Elijah or Klaus, or heavens, even Kol sometimes, will end up spending far more time with this hostage than ever before, and they’ll do the unthinkable and fall in love.

Rebekah is no stranger to the plight of the lovestruck Mikaelson. Although it seems impossible, one of her brothers will fall in love, and then face the unsightly issue of having to wrestle with their guilt over letting the hostage go, or the more likely option, they’ll keep the hostage forever as a little trophy or token of their affections until they fall out of love again and the hostage is set free.

This has happened many times over the centuries. No matter how much her brothers love to talk about how they’re so above mortal things like feelings, Rebekah has watched them fall victim to their hearts until an affection becomes an affliction. Normally, she wouldn’t have a problem with any of this, it is rather amusing to watch her brothers fall over themselves in an attempt to woo a human of all things, but more often than not she ends up being the reluctant ear to their monologues, so the whole affair has grown rather wearisome over the years.

And so, when Klaus drags yet another human hostage into the Mikaelson mansion as a cog in one of his many elaborate plans, Rebekah just sighs and mentally starts planning when she’ll take an extended vacation out of New Orleans yet again so she won’t have to deal with all of this. It’s a shame, too. She was just starting to put herself back out there again, and now all of her hard work is for nothing.

Rebekah watches from the balcony as Klaus dramatically announces to the hostage that they’ll have nowhere to go unless they help him. This time, he’s allowing the hostage free reign of the place, since he’s had a witch charm the hostage into being unable to leave the mansion unless Klaus directly allows it. That way, he won’t have to deal with pesky things like vervain getting in the way of his commands.

Rebekah sighs, rolling her eyes at the scene. The hostage seems like a perfectly nice young woman, albeit one that has absolutely no idea what’s coming for her. Inwardly, she wonders if she should start issuing ominous warnings about staying away from the Mikaelson brothers, although if this hostage is in any way involved with the vampiric communities of New Orleans, she supposes they would already know more than enough about that.

A sudden whoosh of air by her side; Rebekah looks up to see Elijah suddenly emerging from the shadows of the hall to stand next to her. “Something seems to be troubling you,” he notes. “Should I be afraid to ask?”

Rebekah just groans. “Klaus has gone and conjured himself up yet another hostage. This is not going to end well.”

Elijah arches a brow. “You don’t mean to tell me you think Klaus will harm her already? He should hold off at least a week or two, he needs her alive.”

Rebekah shakes her head. “Worse. I think he’s going to grow to care for her. Either you or him.”

Elijah chuckles. “Well, I hardly think that being under the protection of a Mikaelson is cause for concern. If anything, it should extend her lifetime a few decades or so.”

Rebekah scoffs. “I couldn’t care less about how long she lives. I just don’t want you two to bother me when you fall in love again.”

Elijah gazes down at the hostage. “You don’t even know if she’s our type. We might not like her in the slightest. Rebekah, have you even bothered to learn the poor girl’s name? That’s meager hospitality on your part.”

Rebekah almost laughs. “Dearest brother, I do not give a damn who this girl is or what she’s done wrong to get herself on Klaus’ radar. The more she stays out of my way, the better.”

With that, she spins on her heel and heads back towards her quarters. This plan is one of Klaus’ mad schemes, not hers, so Rebekah is determined to avoid the whole matter as much as she can. Maybe then she could finally manage a moment or two of peace and quiet around here.

Peace and quiet, as it turns out, are not the sorts of things to hang around the Mikaelson estate, certainly not when Klaus has a few tricks up his sleeve. Try as she might to stay out of the way, Rebekah finds herself brought back into the mix not by Klaus, or even Elijah on one of his many attempts to bring the family together, but by the hostage herself:  Y/N L/N.

Rebekah had been honest with Elijah when she said she couldn’t care less about the hostage. Really, she couldn’t. For some reason, however, Y/N seems to have decided that Rebekah is her best bet when attempting to navigate the complex relationships of the Mikaelson extended sphere. She’s not wrong, really, Rebekah can be level-headed when she decides it’s interesting enough for her, but she can’t fathom why Y/N would seek her out intentionally.

Yet this is precisely what happens. Y/N takes it upon herself to introduce herself to Rebekah out of the blue one day, then keeps tracking Rebekah down to ask her questions or seek advice on how to deal with Klaus. Honestly, it’s ridiculous. Rebekah does not need new friends, nor would she try to find them in a human.

That being said, she doesn’t entirely mind Y/N, not really. As far as humans go, Rebekah would be kind enough to say that she’s one of the better ones. She doesn’t annoy Rebekah like some of the Mystic Falls crew did, and she listens intently whenever Rebekah speaks, as if she truly cared about what Rebekah had to say. After many lifetimes over her brothers overruling her every thought, Rebekah can’t deny that it’s nice to have her opinion valued every now and then.

Just as expected, Y/N’s tenure in the Mikaelson mansion drags on for longer than planned, and what was meant to be a stay of just a couple of weeks turns into one month, then two. Y/N remains, and she remains by Rebekah’s side. They actually exchange jokes, and secrets, and before Rebekah knows it, she actually looks forward to when she crosses paths with Y/N. They get along brilliantly, and when Y/N isn’t with Rebekah–

Well, when she’s not with Rebekah, she’s with Elijah. Practically glued to the hip. At first, Rebekah would jealously tell herself that Y/N would never get along with Elijah, but inside, she knows it isn’t true. If Y/N can win over Rebekah when Rebekah was firmly opposed to the whole idea, then good-tempered Elijah would be a walk in the park to Rebekah’s bloody battlefield.

It makes Rebekah sick. She knows how this play turns out, doesn’t she? Rebekah has attended many showings, and no matter the venue, no matter the star actress, it always turns out the same. The hostage falls for a Mikaelson brother, not sister. In the end, there is love to be shared, but not with Rebekah. Never with Rebekah.

She wants to tighten her hold, but afraid of pushing Y/N away for good, she pretends as if nothing is the matter. Y/N doesn’t seem to notice the war brewing between Rebekah’s ribs. She spends more and more time in Rebekah’s room, talking over some issue or other. Sometimes, when the nights get low and Y/N forgets to leave, she’ll even fall asleep on Rebekah’s bed, or when leaning against her shoulder. It feels personal. It feels like maybe, it might even be Rebekah’s turn to fall in love.

She knows better, though. Of course Rebekah knows better. Rebekah has been through enough lifetimes to know that hope is a very rocky fissure upon which to build one’s aspirations. Even if a lot of her life has been spent daggered in a box, she still knows enough to not be naive. This story isn’t going to go her way. It never does.

She’d like it to, though. She really would. Y/N gets along with the whole family, and Rebekah can’t stop herself from imagining how nice it would be to have a significant other that wasn’t in danger of getting murdered by Klaus or Elijah for once. Klaus, with admittedly great reluctance, has come to value Y/N’s input. And Elijah’s conversations with Y/N seem to increase in number, but mainly whenever Rebekah isn’t around.

That happens a lot, actually. They’ll be getting along, thick as thieves, and then the moment Rebekah turns the corner and comes into their direct line of sight, the two of them mysteriously clam up. Keeping secrets, it seems. From her. And Rebekah reckons she can guess the subject matter quite well.

That’s it, then. That’s the mystery sorted, the grand question of which Mikaelson their latest hostage would fall for. It’s not as if this hasn’t happened before, but Rebekah finds herself far more disappointed than she had for any of the others. Vampires are protective and jealous and selfish, and Rebekah is the worst of them, but still, she swears she had never wanted anything quite like this before. Now this thing, this love, this woman, is out of her reach, and Rebekah’s entire existence has suddenly turned tragic.

Although she should take the high road and pretend that nothing is the matter, Rebekah has never been good at brushing off trivialities. Once, when she was younger, Klaus had told her that she had a ‘gift for theatrics.’ At first, she’d been delighted, assuming her brother believed her to be a master actress, and then she’d realized that Klaus’ words, as they always seemed to be, were nothing but a barb meant to wound her. Then she’d stomped around as usual, doing nothing to raise her spirits and only proving him right.

Stomping around can be rather satisfying, though. When Rebekah runs into Y/N and Elijah deep in a heated conversation one day, she just can’t take it anymore. This time, instead of running away and pretending as if she hadn’t seen a thing, Rebekah purposely walks towards them. Just as before, Y/N’s eyes go wide, and she hurriedly shuts up. 

Rebekah isn’t willing to let it slide, though. She stops in front of them and folds her arms across her chest. “What’s all this about? You look as if you’ve been caught red-handed. Which, I suppose, you have.”

Y/N grins weakly. “Nothing. We, uh, aren’t doing anything.”

Rebekah arches a brow. “That’s hardly believable, now, isn’t it? How about you try telling me the truth for once. I’d certainly like to hear it.”

Elijah claps his hands together. “Actually, I think this is a matter just for you and Y/N, my dear sister. I don’t believe this concerns me at all.”

Before either of them can stop him, Elijah disappears down the hall, gone in an instant. Y/N glares after him. “For an immortal vampire, he’s absolutely terrible when you want someone to stand by you.”

“That’s Elijah for you,” Rebekah murmurs. “He never likes it when we fight.”

“Yeah, well, I can hardly blame him,” Y/N muses. “Fighting with your family seems rather painful.”

“It is,” Rebekah instantly agrees, then remembers that she’s supposed to be upset. “Now, you can’t distract me anymore. Tell me what’s going on, I mean it. I know we’re friends, but you don’t have to hide things from me.”

Y/N’s eyes go wide. “You mean– you know? And you’re okay with it?”

Rebekah feels as if she’s been daggered. She almost wants to turn around and see if her murderous brother is standing behind her, ready to put her in a coffin again for another century or two. Y/N does like Elijah, then. How utterly heartbreaking. “Why wouldn’t I be okay with it?” She asks listlessly. “I know my brothers, and as far as Mikaelson men go, you chose the one who tends to be the most stable. Nothing wrong with that.”

Y/N’s brow furrows. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

Rebekah looks away. Thinking it is one thing, but admitting the painful truth aloud suddenly seems far worse. “You know. You’ve fallen in love with my brother.”

She isn’t sure how she expects Y/N to react. With relief, maybe, that she won’t have to hide anymore. What Rebekah certainly isn’t expecting is for Y/N to start laughing. “What? No, Rebekah, I’m not in love with Elijah. I’m in love with you.”

The floor seems to have fallen about beneath Rebekah’s feet. “With– with me?”

Y/N laughs again. It’s a lovely sound. “Yes, Bekah, I love you. It’s very easy to do, you know.”

Rebekah shakes her head, still not entirely sure that she isn’t dreaming or something. This certainly feels like a dream. “But– you’re always with Elijah– and you keep sharing secrets with him that you won’t tell me–”

Y/N grins. “That’s because I’m trying to make sure he won’t tell a soul. Elijah figured me out a few weeks ago. Mainly, though, I’ve been trying to persuade him to get me a few things. I want to bake something for you, and Klaus only ever keeps this house stocked with blood and alcohol. It’s sort of horrific, actually. You don’t even have baking soda.”

Rebekah’s brow furrows. “You wanted to bake me something? Why?”

Y/N’s smile turns quiet. “You mentioned it once. You were sad that no one had ever baked for you even though you were always making things for your brothers. I didn’t want you to feel that way anymore.”

“I can’t believe you remembered that,” Rebekah says softly. “I only mentioned it once.”

“I like listening to you, Rebekah.” Y/N tells her.

And at last, at long last, Rebekah knows why. She’s seen this play before. For once, she gets her happy ending.

vampire diaries tag list: @mayfieldss, @alex-1967s-blog

 A Home in New Orleans - 1702

By the time the Mikaelsons came to New Orleans, the city was still becoming itself. The streets were muddy and half-built, the air thick with wet heat, and ships crowded the river while workers shouted from wooden scaffolding along the banks. Music drifted from somewhere beyond the road, tangled with voices speaking French, Spanish, English, and languages Evangeline did not recognize. Kol took one look around and announced, "It's a swamp."

"It's unbearable," Rebekah agreed, lifting her skirts away from the mud.

Niklaus regarded them both with growing irritation. "Have either of you considered withholding judgment for longer than thirty seconds?"

"No," Kol and Rebekah answered together.

Evangeline stepped down from the carriage last, accepting Elijah's offered hand. She stood beside him for a moment, taking in the noise and movement around them. There was something exciting about a place that did not yet seem to know what it would become.

"I think it's beautiful."

Kol looked personally betrayed. "It's mud."

"It's new."

"Those are not the same thing."

Evangeline ignored him and looked at Niklaus instead. "Are we truly staying?" The question quieted them. For centuries, staying had been a temporary thing. Mikael had dictated the rhythm of their existence: settle, grow comfortable, hear whispers of their father, run. But for the first time in centuries, Mikael had been contained. Not dead, perhaps, but locked away where he could no longer hunt them. Niklaus looked across the growing settlement. "As long as we please."

"A real home?"

Something softened in Elijah's expression beside her. Niklaus smiled. "A compound. A proper family home large enough for all of us."

"At the same time?" Rebekah asked dryly.

Niklaus ignored her. Evangeline was already imagining it. "I want a courtyard." Kol groaned. "Here we go."

"And a garden," she continued. "Roses, jasmine, orange trees. Perhaps magnolias. And a fountain."

Niklaus stared at her. "You've been here five minutes and already you're redesigning my compound."

"Our compound," Evangeline corrected.

Elijah's mouth twitched. Niklaus looked between them and sighed. "Fine. Our compound." Evangeline slipped her hand through his arm and smiled. "We'll make it beautiful." Niklaus looked toward the city again.

"No," he said. "We'll make it ours."

And they did. The compound took years to complete, largely because no Mikaelson could agree with another about what it ought to be. Niklaus wanted a fortress, Elijah wanted elegance, Rebekah demanded balconies, Kol insisted upon hidden rooms for reasons nobody trusted, and Evangeline wanted enough windows that the place did not resemble a tomb.

"It's a fortress," Niklaus reminded her during yet another argument with the architect.

"It's a home," Evangeline replied.

Niklaus looked toward Elijah for support. Elijah calmly turned a page of his book. "I agree with her."

"Of course you do."

The windows stayed. So did Evangeline's courtyard, her fountain, and eventually her garden. The orange trees flourished; the roses required considerably more persuasion, which Evangeline regarded as a personal challenge. Flowers climbed the ironwork, silk curtains softened the windows, and books, paintings and music slowly filled the rooms. What Niklaus had intended as a stronghold became something warmer beneath her hands. Still imposing, still unmistakably Mikaelson, but lived in. Evangeline had always possessed that peculiar ability. Give her enough time in a place and she would fill it with life. Servants became members of the household, neighbors became dinner guests, and local children learned that appearing near the kitchens when Evangeline was present usually resulted in sweets. Then Niklaus brought home Marcel.

Evangeline loved him almost immediately. Elijah discovered the extent of the problem less than a week later when he entered Evangeline's sitting room and found the boy asleep against her side. She sat near the open courtyard doors with a forgotten book in one hand and her other arm curled protectively around Marcel's shoulders.

"You've known him six days," Elijah said quietly.

"Seven."

"That does not improve my concern."

Evangeline smiled and smoothed Marcel's hair. "He's had a difficult life."

"I know."

"And Niklaus cares for him."

Elijah hesitated. "Niklaus loves intensely."

"And badly, sometimes."

"At times."

Evangeline understood what he feared. Klaus could love something fiercely enough to destroy it rather than risk losing it. She looked down at Marcel, sleeping peacefully against her.

"Then perhaps he should have someone who loves him gently."

Elijah's expression softened. Before he could answer, Niklaus appeared in the doorway and immediately frowned at the sight before him.

"That one is mine."

Evangeline looked scandalized. "He is not a puppy."

"I found him."

"You cannot claim children, Niklaus."

"I can claim whoever I please."

Marcel stirred in his sleep and curled closer to Evangeline. All three vampires went silent. Niklaus narrowed his eyes. "He's doing that deliberately."

"He's asleep."

"He knows."

Evangeline smiled smugly, which only irritated him further. In the short time Marcel had been with them, she had already moved him into a room overlooking the courtyard, ordered him proper clothes and filled his shelves with books.

"You're spoiling him," Niklaus accused.

"He needs things."

"I was going to provide those things."

"Were you?"

Niklaus frowned. Eventually he crossed the room and crouched beside the chaise. For all his complaining, his face softened when he looked at Marcel. Evangeline noticed.

"So we agree."

"On what?"

"We're keeping him."

Elijah closed his eyes. "Evangeline." Niklaus almost smiled. "Keeping him?"

"He needs a family."

The amusement disappeared from Niklaus's face. His gaze settled on Marcel, and for a moment the room became strangely quiet.

"He has one."

That was the end of it. Marcel grew up inside the walls they had built together. Slowly, the frightened boy who hid food and watched doors whenever voices were raised disappeared. He learned that meals would come again, that a room given to him would remain his, and that the people surrounding him were not going anywhere.

Evangeline mothered him shamelessly. She tended scraped knees when he was young, corrected his manners when he grew older, made certain his clothes were clean, and interfered whenever Kol attempted to teach him anything she deemed morally questionable—which, in fairness, was most things Kol wished to teach him. Niklaus encouraged every rebellious instinct Marcel possessed and then complained bitterly whenever that rebellion was directed toward him. Rebekah adored him, Kol corrupted him, and Elijah watched over the entire arrangement with the wary affection of a man who knew resistance was pointless. Years later, long after Marcel had become a man, Elijah found Evangeline waiting beside the courtyard doors late one evening.

"He's late," she said.

Elijah glanced at the clock. "By twenty minutes."

"Twenty-eight."

"He is an adult."

"I know."

"A vampire."

"I am aware."

"Capable of tearing a man in half."

Evangeline looked at her husband. "Why would that make me worry less?" Elijah sighed. The doors opened moments later and Marcel walked inside. Evangeline immediately rose. "Where have you been?" Marcel grinned. "There she is."

"Don't."

"I knew you'd be waiting."

"Then you should have come home on time."

Marcel crossed the room and kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry." Her irritation vanished so quickly that Elijah gave her a look. Marcel caught it, "Are you jealous?" Elijah's eyebrows rose. "I assure you—"

"Who's jealous?" Niklaus entered at precisely the wrong moment.

Marcel pointed toward Elijah. "Apparently Eva loves me more." Niklaus stopped, "Absolutely not." Evangeline stared at him.

"I was here first," Niklaus added, genuinely offended.

Elijah closed his eyes. "Good God." Marcel laughed while Evangeline put both hands on her hips. "You are all ridiculous."

"But you love me," Marcel said.

"Unfortunately."

He kissed her cheek again. Niklaus looked toward Elijah. "She's spoiled him." Elijah regarded his brother dryly. "You are largely responsible for that."

"Not relevant."

Evangeline watched the three of them bicker and smiled despite herself. Once, she had stepped from a carriage into a muddy settlement and asked Niklaus whether they were truly allowed to stay. She had wanted a courtyard, a garden, roses and a fountain. Something permanent. Something that belonged to them. Somewhere along the way, they had built far more than that. They had built a home.

---

New Orleans, Christmas - 1908

Evangeline began planning Christmas in October. By November, Niklaus regretted allowing her unrestricted access to the household accounts, and by December the compound had been transformed. Garlands wound through the galleries, candles glowed in every window, and poinsettias crowded the courtyard beside the winter roses Evangeline had spent years coaxing into surviving Louisiana weather. The tree in the main room nearly touched the ceiling, dripping in ribbon, glass ornaments and enough silver that Kol complained it could probably be seen from France. Evangeline ignored him. She had spent weeks writing invitations herself, sending them across America and Europe to old friends, witches, vampires, human families they had known for generations and, to Elijah's mild displeasure, a considerable portion of the Strix.

The Strix arrived three days before Christmas. Tristan came with Aya and was barely through the courtyard before Evangeline embraced him.

"You came."

"You sent three letters."

"The first two received no answer."

"I was traveling."

"I assumed you were ignoring me."

Tristan looked faintly offended. "I would never."

"Good."

Their relationship had survived centuries largely because Evangeline refused to participate in whatever cold war existed between Tristan and Elijah. The two men remained civil for her sake, if occasionally terse, and Elijah merely raised his champagne when Tristan glanced toward him over Evangeline's shoulder.

"You've made her worse," Tristan observed.

"I've done nothing."

"You indulge her."

"Entirely."

Evangeline pulled away from Tristan. "I can hear both of you."

"That was intentional," Tristan replied.

By Christmas night, the compound was overflowing. Music spilled through the galleries and into the courtyard, champagne seemed inexhaustible, and ancient Strix mingled with Marcel's vampires beneath thousands of candles. Evangeline had established only a handful of rules: no fighting, no careless feeding, no blood in her courtyard and, most importantly, no settling ancient grudges until after Christmas. Kol considered the final rule unreasonable.

"You've waited three hundred years," Evangeline told him. "You can wait until tomorrow."

Marcel stared when Kol actually relented. "You listen to her?"

"Of course I listen to her."

"That's adorable."

Kol's eyes narrowed. From across the room came Evangeline's warning. "Kol." He sighed. "Merry Christmas, Marcel." Marcel laughed. Evangeline danced for most of the evening. She danced with Niklaus, Tristan and Marcel before Kol interrupted because everyone else had apparently been allotted too much time with her. Rebekah claimed her next, and by the time Elijah finally crossed the floor to retrieve his wife, Evangeline was flushed with champagne and laughter.

"At last," she murmured as Elijah took her hand.

"I was under the impression you were otherwise occupied."

"You could have rescued me."

"From my siblings?"

"Especially from your siblings."

Elijah smiled and drew her closer as the orchestra began another song. Evangeline rested one hand against his shoulder and allowed him to guide her through the room she had spent months transforming. Around them were people collected across nearly nine centuries of life: Marcel laughing with Rebekah, Kol stealing champagne from a passing tray, Tristan enduring one of Lucien's stories, and Niklaus presiding over the entire affair as though he had personally invented Christmas. For once, no one was daggered. No one was running. No one was missing. Evangeline looked up at Elijah. "It's perfect." His gaze remained on her. "Yes." She smiled. "You aren't even looking."

"I don't need to."

Her expression softened. Later, they found themselves gathered beneath the tree almost by accident. Marcel stood beside Evangeline, Niklaus and Rebekah were arguing over something inconsequential, and Kol had somehow acquired another bottle of champagne. Tristan and several of the Strix lingered nearby, old friends filling the rooms Evangeline had decorated. Niklaus eventually lifted his glass. "To our ridiculous family."

"That's the nicest thing you've said all week," Marcel replied.

Niklaus glared at him. Elijah raised his own glass and looked at Evangeline. "To home." That quieted them. Evangeline looked around at the people she loved and felt something warm settle inside her. Centuries earlier, home had meant wherever Elijah happened to be. Then it had grown to include Niklaus, Rebekah and Kol, and somehow, over the years, Marcel and dozens of others had found their way inside it as well. They drank. And Christmas carried on long past midnight. Eventually, however, Elijah noticed that his wife had disappeared.

He found Evangeline upstairs before her vanity, attempting with increasingly poor coordination to remove the pins from her hair. Her pearls were already scattered beside the mirror, one earring had vanished somewhere in the room, and her cheeks were still pink from champagne. Elijah leaned against the doorway. "Having difficulty?"

"No."

A pin caught in her hair. Evangeline frowned at it. Elijah crossed the room. "Clearly." She surrendered with what little dignity remained and allowed him to take over. It was an old ritual between them. Elijah removed each pin carefully until her hair fell loose over her shoulders, then unclasped the pearls at her throat.

"You had a good Christmas," he murmured.

"The best."

"You say that every year."

"Because every year is the best."

Elijah smiled against her temple. Evangeline met his eyes in the mirror. The noise from downstairs seemed suddenly distant, the laughter and music muffled by the closed doors.

"You've been very patient tonight," she said.

"Have I?"

"Everyone kept stealing me."

"I noticed."

Her smile turned teasing. "Were you jealous?"

"Profoundly."

She laughed and turned toward him.

“My dear sire.” Evangeline’s words carried the slightest champagne-softened lilt as she gazed up at him through her lashes. “I’m so terribly hungry.”

Elijah looked down at her, amusement curling one corner of his mouth. He knew precisely what she was doing. “Oh, you poor thing.” Evangeline sighed as though her suffering were truly unbearable. “Whatever shall I do?”

“Hmm.” Elijah appeared to give the matter grave consideration. “A most unfortunate predicament.”

He began removing his evening coat with maddening deliberation, slipping it from his shoulders before laying it neatly across the back of the velvet settee. Evangeline watched with rapt attention as he removed his cufflinks next and placed them upon the vanity, then slowly rolled the crisp white sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. Elijah could make even the simplest movements feel indecent when he knew she was watching him, and the sight of his forearms alone had her hunger sharpening.

“My sweet girl.”

His fingertips traced beneath her chin before his hand closed around it, firm but gentle, tilting her face toward his.

“I’m afraid she shall simply have to work for her dinner tonight.”

Heat rushed into Evangeline’s cheeks.

“Stand, darling.”

She obeyed immediately. Elijah turned her toward the vanity, positioning her before the mirror before pressing her forward over its polished edge. Evangeline caught herself with both hands, a shiver running through her at the sudden roughness. Elijah reserved so little of that side of himself for her that whenever he allowed it free rein, her body recognized it instantly. He began loosening her corset. Slowly. Far too slowly. Each ribbon slipped loose beneath his fingers with meticulous care while Evangeline watched him in the mirror. His attention remained on his work until his gaze finally lifted and met hers in the reflection. The darkness gathering in his eyes sent another wave of heat through her. He knew exactly what he was doing to her.

Elijah pulled her upright by the nape of her neck and settled her against his chest. His other hand found the ties of her skirts and loosened them one by one, allowing the heavy fabric to pool around her feet until she stood before the mirror in little more than her stockings, panties and the corset hanging loose around her body. His gaze traveled over her reflection without shame. Evangeline's breath caught when his hand followed it, moving slowly over her stomach before slipping beneath the lace at her hips.

“Elijah…”

His fingers found her already embarrassingly wet. The smugness that appeared in his reflection made her want to slap him and kiss him in equal measure.

“Already?”

She closed her eyes. “Don't.”

“Don't what?”

“You know perfectly well.”

“I’m afraid I don't.”

He stroked her again, and Evangeline's retort dissolved into a helpless sound. Elijah's hand remained secure at the back of her neck, keeping her against him while his other worked between her thighs with infuriating expertise. He knew her body far too well after so many centuries together. He knew precisely where to touch, when to linger, and, cruelest of all, when to ease away just as her body began tightening toward release.

“Lijah.” Her hands closed around his forearm. “Please.”

He lowered his head and pressed unexpectedly tender kisses along her temple.

“Be a good girl and hold it for me, sweet thing.”

Evangeline whined. She tried. God help her, she tried, gripping his arm and fighting every instinct demanding she chase his hand. When one of his fingers finally pressed inside her, a cry escaped before she could smother it. Elijah laughed softly against her hair. “Hush, darling. My brothers are downstairs. I would rather not have them believe you’re in peril.”

“I am in peril.”

“Are you?”

“You're horrible.”

“And yet you called me your dear sire.”

Evangeline glared at his reflection. Elijah smiled. Then he brought her almost to the edge again. And stopped. Evangeline's eyes flew open. Elijah was watching her in the mirror with the most insufferably pleased expression she had ever seen. She stood breathless against him, her body aching from the denied release, and watched in disbelief as he withdrew his hand.

“Elijah.”

Without breaking eye contact, he brought his fingers to his mouth and slowly cleaned them. Evangeline groaned. He hummed his approval and stepped away. She immediately followed him.

“Elijah.”

He crossed the room and settled casually onto the settee as though he had not just reduced his wife to a trembling mess. Evangeline stared at him.

“I told you,” he reminded her, spreading his knees comfortably, “you would have to work for your meal tonight.”

He crooked two fingers toward her.

“Come here.”

She went without hesitation. Elijah guided her between his knees and ran both hands slowly up her thighs before finally losing patience with the corset. He pulled the loosened garment from her and tossed it aside with considerably less care than he had shown his own clothing. Evangeline almost laughed. So much for meticulous.

“Undress me.”

She needed no further encouragement. Her hands went immediately to his bow tie, tugging it loose with enough enthusiasm to make Elijah chuckle. The waistcoat followed, then the seemingly endless buttons of his formal shirt. Elijah watched her throughout, his expression growing darker as Evangeline's patience deteriorated. Once she had freed him from the shirt, she discarded it as carelessly as he had her corset and sank to her knees. His trousers were next. Evangeline made quick work of the buttons, tugging the fabric down until she could free him. Her hunger had become almost indistinguishable from her arousal by then, both sharpened cruelly by Elijah's refusal to give her what she wanted. She wrapped her hand around him. Elijah inhaled sharply. There.

A tiny crack in all that famous composure. Evangeline knew exactly how he liked to be touched and began stroking him almost automatically, watching with satisfaction as his jaw tightened. Yet she did nothing more. She remained between his knees and waited, biting her lower lip against every impulse telling her to take matters into her own hands. Elijah studied her.

“Such obedience tonight.”

“You have my dinner.”

“Ah.” His thumb brushed her cheek. “So your motives are entirely selfish.”

“Entirely.”

His smile deepened.

“Take off your panties, pretty girl.”

Evangeline stood and turned away from him. She hooked her fingers beneath the lace and deliberately bent forward as she drew them down her legs, well aware of the view she was giving him. Elijah went silent. She stepped free of them and glanced over her shoulder. His eyes were fixed upon her. That pleased her immensely. Evangeline straightened, now wearing nothing but her stockings, only for Elijah to lean forward and press a kiss to the curve of her backside. She giggled. His hands traveled over her hips, possessive and appreciative, before he kissed her again.

“Perfect,” he murmured against her skin. “Absolutely perfect.”

His fingers slipped between her thighs once more, checking the state he'd left her in. Evangeline shuddered the instant he brushed her clit.

“Elijah.”

“Come here.”

He drew her backward.

“In my lap, love.”

Evangeline straddled him, allowing Elijah to position her exactly as he wanted. His hands settled firmly around her hips before he guided her downward onto him. Her breath caught. Elijah's did too. No matter how many centuries passed, there was always that first moment when her body had to stretch around him, when Evangeline clung to his shoulders and Elijah forced himself to remain still until he knew she was comfortable.

“There we are,” he murmured.

Evangeline exhaled shakily and sank the rest of the way down.

“Fuck.” The word escaped him so quietly that she smiled.

Elijah noticed, “Something amusing?”

“You.”

“Dangerous answer.”

His hand came down sharply against her backside. Evangeline yelped.

“Now,” Elijah murmured, settling back against the settee, “how badly did you want your dinner?”

She answered by moving. Elijah let her set the pace at first. Evangeline rode him eagerly, one hand braced against his shoulder before she turned in his lap and planted both palms against his knees. The change in angle drew a low groan from him. His hands immediately found her hips.

“That's it.”

She moved harder. Elijah watched her with undisguised fascination. Her hair hung loose down her back, her stockings remained absurdly proper against an otherwise naked body, and every movement of her hips made another little sound escape her.

“My perfect little wife.”

Evangeline whimpered at the praise. Elijah's grip tightened. She leaned farther forward, taking him deeper, and his composure finally began to fray.

“Fuck, darling.”

His hand struck her backside again.

“Make yourself come for me.”

Evangeline obeyed. One hand slipped between her thighs, her fingers finding her clit while she continued riding him. Elijah watched her rhythm begin to falter as she drew closer, her breathing becoming ragged and her movements increasingly desperate. Then he decided he had watched long enough. Elijah caught her around the neck and pulled her back against his chest. His other arm hooked beneath her knees, folding her against him and leaving her completely exposed as he took control. Evangeline cried out.

His thrusts were harder now, stripped of the teasing restraint he'd tortured her with earlier. She threw her head against his shoulder, her cries spilling freely into the room until Elijah was no longer certain his earlier warning about his brothers mattered very much. He could feel her beginning to tighten around him. Elijah freed one arm and brought his wrist to her mouth.

“Drink, my precious girl.”

Her fangs descended immediately. This was their ritual. Evangeline pierced his wrist and moaned against his skin as his blood touched her tongue. Hunger overwhelmed what little restraint she had left. Her hands closed around his arm and she drank greedily from her sire while Elijah continued moving beneath her. It was too much. His blood, his body, his voice against her ear. Evangeline came hard around him. Her cry was muffled against his wrist as her body tightened violently, and the sensation pulled Elijah after her. He buried himself deeply inside her with a broken groan, holding her firmly against his chest as he spilled inside her. For several moments neither of them moved. Then Elijah's body slowly relaxed beneath hers. Evangeline continued feeding.

He laughed breathlessly. She had been hungry.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, echoing his earlier teasing.

Evangeline made an annoyed little sound against his wrist but did not stop. Elijah reclined against the settee and let her drink while his free hand wandered lazily over her body. The urgency had disappeared now. He simply wanted to touch her. His palm traveled over her stomach and ribs before settling over one breast, his thumb idly teasing her nipple until it hardened beneath his touch. Eventually Evangeline's fangs withdrew. She licked the last trace of blood from his wrist and let her head fall against his shoulder with a contented sigh. Elijah looked down at her. She remained comfortably settled in his lap, still joined with him, her stockinged legs draped over his, her eyes already beginning to close.

“My darling?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“No.”

Her eyes were closed. Elijah smiled and brushed the hair from her face.

“Of course not.”

Evangeline tucked herself closer against his chest. The champagne, feeding and pleasure had finally caught up with her, leaving her warm and pleasantly exhausted in his arms.

“My dear sire,” she murmured sleepily.

Elijah's smile deepened.

“Yes, my sweet girl?”

No answer came. She was already asleep.

~

Much later, Evangeline was asleep beneath the covers, her hair spread across Elijah's pillow and one hand still curled loosely around his wrist. Elijah had every intention of remaining there until morning, but the men were still downstairs and Tristan had apparently decided that Christmas night was an appropriate time to resurrect a political discussion they had abandoned several hours earlier. Evangeline stirred when Elijah carefully disentangled himself.

"Where are you going?"

"Downstairs."

Her eyes barely opened and she whined in protest. The single sleepy whimper nearly succeeded where centuries of diplomacy had failed. Elijah leaned over her. "Only for a little while."

"You always say that."

"I shall endeavor to make it true this time."

Evangeline made a quiet sound of disapproval and burrowed deeper into the pillow. Elijah smiled, kissed her forehead and drew the blankets higher around her before leaving. He paused at the doorway for one last look. She had already fallen asleep again, nearly disappearing into the cream silks of their bed. Her pale nightgown blended into ivory sheets and champagne-colored coverlets, dark hair scattered across the pillows. Elijah had commissioned nearly everything in their rooms himself over the years, and naturally his wife's bedclothes were no exception. Silk sheets, silk nightgowns, embroidered pillows—nothing coarse touched Evangeline's skin if Elijah could help it. Satisfied that she was comfortable, he quietly closed the door and returned downstairs. He would later replay that decision with murderous precision.

The party had dwindled considerably by then. Most of their guests had retired or departed, leaving only family and their oldest companions gathered around the remnants of the evening. Kol and Lucien were still drinking, Niklaus had cornered Tristan into some increasingly unfriendly political discussion, and Marcel was stretched comfortably across one of the chairs while Rebekah complained that none of them possessed the good sense to go to bed. Elijah had barely returned to his drink when he heard something above them. A dull thump. Then the unmistakable rustle of fabric. Elijah's head lifted. Niklaus noticed immediately. "What?" Elijah held up a hand. Everyone quieted.

Another sound came from above. Faint, almost insignificant beneath the lingering music and conversation elsewhere in the compound, but Elijah knew precisely where it had come from. His bedroom. The bond shifted strangely inside him. Elijah was gone before anyone could ask another question. He took the stairs at vampire speed and threw open the bedroom door hard enough that it struck the wall. "Evangeline?" The bed was empty. For one terrible instant, Elijah simply stared. The cream silk sheets were tangled where he had left them pristine only minutes earlier. One pillow had fallen to the floor. The blankets had been dragged halfway from the mattress, and the balcony curtains billowed inward through open doors.

"Evangeline?"

Nothing. Something old and horrific opened inside him. Not again. Elijah crossed the room so quickly the furniture blurred. He searched the balcony, the adjoining dressing room, beneath every irrational corner his mind knew perfectly well could not contain her. There was no blood. No body. No Evangeline. Only an empty bed. And suddenly he was no longer standing in New Orleans. He could see stone walls. Vervain burns. Chains around delicate wrists. Evangeline screaming his name while Europe drowned in blood around them.

"Evangeline!"

The shout brought the others running. Niklaus reached the room first, Kol directly behind him. Rebekah, Marcel, Tristan and Lucien crowded the doorway seconds later, but the sight of the empty bed stopped them all. No one needed an explanation. They remembered. Niklaus's face changed first. Every trace of champagne-softened amusement vanished. "Who took her?"

"I don't know."

Elijah was already tearing through the room for anything he'd missed. Kol crossed immediately to the balcony. "Eva?"

"She's not there," Elijah snapped.

"Obviously I can see that, Elijah."

"Then find her!"

Kol's expression hardened, but not with anger at his brother. He disappeared onto the balcony without another word. Rebekah picked up the fallen pillow. "Was she awake when you left?"

"No. She was asleep."

Elijah suddenly turned toward Tristan and Lucien.

"Where are your people?"

Tristan stiffened. "Excuse me?"

"The Strix. Where are they?"

"Half of them are downstairs."

"And the other half?"

Tristan's eyes narrowed. "Be very careful what you are accusing me of."

"My wife has been taken from my bed. I assure you, Tristan, caution is presently very low among my concerns."

Lucien stepped between them before either ancient vampire did something stupid. "Elijah, if one of ours had taken Evangeline, we'd already know."

"You had better."

Niklaus crossed to the bed and touched the disturbed sheets. His expression grew darker as he took in what Elijah already had: no blood, no obvious struggle, no scent of vervain.

"Can you feel her?"

Elijah froze. In his panic, he had barely thought to try. He closed his eyes and reached for the bond. There. Evangeline. Alive. The relief was so violent that Elijah had to grip the bedpost.

"She's alive."

Rebekah exhaled audibly. Marcel muttered, "Thank God." Kol reappeared through the balcony doors. "Nothing outside. Whoever took her knew what they were doing."

"Is she hurt?" Niklaus demanded.

Elijah concentrated harder.

"No."

"Frightened?"

A pause. Elijah's brow furrowed.

"No."

Everyone stared at him. Kol blinked. "Someone has abducted Eva from her own bed and she isn't frightened?"

"Apparently not."

That made absolutely no sense. Elijah could feel her moving farther away, her emotions muted beneath exhaustion and confusion. There was irritation beginning to flicker through the bond now, but no terror. No pain. Nothing resembling the hysteria he remembered from the last time she had been taken from him. Whoever had Evangeline was someone she knew. It should have reassured him. It did not. Elijah looked back at the ruined nest of cream silk where his wife had been sleeping less than twenty minutes earlier. Her evening gown remained discarded near the vanity. Her shoes were there. Her jewelry was there. Her robe was missing. His expression darkened.

"She was taken in her nightgown."

Niklaus stared at him. "What?"

"She was asleep, Niklaus. She is wearing nothing but her nightclothes and whatever robe the person responsible had the decency to put around her."

That caused an entirely different kind of outrage. Kol looked appalled. "They carried her through the city like that?"

"For God's sake," Rebekah muttered.

"No, he's right," Niklaus said.

Rebekah stared at him. "Of course you think he's right."

"She's half-dressed!"

"She's covered." Rebekah sighed.

"That is hardly the point."

Tristan, irritatingly, seemed to agree. "No, it is not." Lucien looked between the three men. "Wonderful. Evangeline has vanished and we've somehow convened a tribunal regarding her nightdress." Elijah turned toward the door.

"Marcel, close the city."

Marcel nodded immediately.

"Every road, every dock, every railway station. I want every vampire in New Orleans looking for her."

Niklaus followed him. "I'll take the river."

"Kol," Elijah called.

His brother was already moving. "My people will take everything respectable vampires don't know exists."

"Rebekah—"

"I'm coming with you."

Elijah didn't argue. Tristan caught his arm as he passed.

"Elijah."

Elijah looked down at his hand until Tristan wisely removed it.

"If she isn't afraid," Tristan said carefully, "then whoever has her is unlikely to mean her harm."

Elijah's expression remained murderous.

"The last people who took Evangeline from me chained her beneath a fortress and nearly drove her mad."

"I remember."

"So do I."

That was precisely the problem. Every person in that room remembered. They remembered what Evangeline had looked like when they finally reached her. They remembered Elijah nearly losing what remained of his sanity. They remembered Klaus's sireline flooding across Europe, Kol's rippers being unleashed without restraint and the Strix tearing hunter cells apart one by one until entire regions whispered Evangeline's name. No one intended to repeat the experience. Within minutes, the last remnants of Christmas had disappeared. Marcel's vampires flooded the streets. The Strix mobilized without waiting to be asked. Kol sent his progeny into the darker corners of the city while Niklaus personally began extracting answers from anyone unfortunate enough to appear suspicious. Elijah followed the bond.

And somewhere across New Orleans, Evangeline Mikaelson was having a girls' night.

---

Evangeline awoke for the second time that night in cream silk. For several blissfully confused seconds, she assumed she was still home. She stretched beneath cool sheets, expecting to find Elijah beside her, only to discover that the mattress felt wrong. Her eyes opened. The canopy above her was unfamiliar. Evangeline slowly sat up. She was in an enormous hotel suite overlooking the river, surrounded by carved mahogany furniture, velvet draperies, fresh flowers and the newest electric lamps money could procure. Whoever had rented the rooms had evidently chosen the finest accommodations New Orleans presently offered and then filled them with enough champagne, fruit and confectionery to entertain a small court. Evangeline looked down at herself.

Her cream silk nightgown remained intact. Her matching robe had been tied securely around her waist, although she was barefoot and had absolutely no recollection of leaving her bedroom. A champagne cork popped behind her. Evangeline closed her eyes. Of course.

"You stole me from my bed."

Aurora de Martel appeared from the adjoining room carrying champagne and two glasses, looking positively delighted with herself.

"I rescued you from an evening of sleep."

"Aurora."

"Eva."

"My husband is going to kill you."

Aurora poured the champagne. "He won't."

"He absolutely will."

"Tristan won't let him."

"Tristan may help him."

Aurora paused, apparently considering that possibility for the first time, before shrugging and offering Evangeline a strawberry. Evangeline stared at it. Aurora ate it herself.

"You could have knocked."

"And had Elijah hovering over us all evening?"

"He does not hover."

Aurora gave her a look. Evangeline hesitated. "He is attentive."

"He is attached to you like an exceptionally handsome shadow."

Despite herself, Evangeline laughed. Aurora immediately brightened. "There she is."

"You have half of New Orleans searching for me."

"Probably."

"My family believes I've been kidnapped."

"You have been borrowed."

"Without permission."

"Which is what makes it fun."

Evangeline stared at her old friend over the rim of the champagne Aurora pressed into her hand. Then something occurred to her.

"You wanted them to follow."

Aurora's expression became suspiciously innocent.

"Aurora."

"I don't know what you mean."

"You knew Elijah would come after me."

"Naturally."

"And Tristan."

Aurora took a delicate sip of champagne.

"And Lucien."

Another sip. Evangeline's eyes narrowed.

"And Niklaus."

Aurora went very still. There it was. Evangeline slowly lowered her glass.

"Oh."

"Don't."

"You wanted Niklaus to come."

"I wanted everyone to come."

"Of course you did."

"I missed my brother."

"Mm-hm."

"And Lucien."

"Naturally."

"And you."

"I'm sure."

Aurora lifted her chin with as much dignity as a woman who had climbed through a balcony window and stolen a man's sleeping wife could reasonably muster.

"I simply thought it would be lovely to have everyone together again."

Evangeline stared at her.

"You abducted me to arrange a reunion."

"When you say it like that, it sounds mad."

"It is mad."

Aurora smiled brightly and lifted her champagne, ”Girls' night." Evangeline threw a cushion at her. The door exploded inward before Aurora could retaliate. Elijah stood in the ruined doorway with Niklaus beside him, followed by Tristan, Lucien, Kol, Rebekah, Marcel, Aya and enough vampires behind them to invade a small country. For several seconds, nobody spoke. Evangeline sat barefoot in her nightgown and robe with a champagne coupe in her hand. Aurora sat beside her looking entirely too pleased with herself in a near matching ruby red silk slip. Kol surveyed the scene. "You have got to be joking.” He looked to Tristan, “A pillow fight?” Elijah crossed the room instantly.

"Evangeline."

His hands went to her face, then her shoulders, checking her with frantic thoroughness. "Are you hurt?"

"No."

"Vervain?"

"No."

"Did anyone touch you?"

"Only Aurora, and largely because she carried me here."

Elijah slowly turned his head. Aurora smiled. "She was sleepy." His expression became terrifyingly blank.

"You entered my bedroom."

"Yes."

"You took my wife from our bed."

"Technically—"

"In her nightgown."

Aurora's smile twitched. Niklaus finally looked properly at Evangeline and frowned. "Where are the rest of your clothes?" Evangeline pulled Elijah's coat, which he had immediately wrapped around her, more tightly around herself. "I was asleep, Niklaus."

"Precisely my point."

Kol gestured toward Aurora. "You paraded her through New Orleans in her underthings?"

"I did not parade her anywhere."

"She's barefoot."

"Her shoes were inconvenient."

Elijah's eyes closed. Tristan looked as though he might join him in murder.

"Aurora."

She turned toward her brother and smiled. "Hello, Tristan." Relief flickered across his face before irritation replaced it. "Do you have any comprehension of what you've done?"

"I wanted to see everyone."

"So you kidnapped Evangeline?"

"I borrowed her."

"You removed a sleeping woman from her husband's bed."

Aurora frowned. "Everyone keeps making it sound terribly sordid."

"Because it is!" Niklaus snapped.

Aurora looked at him. Her entire demeanor changed. Her expression sharpened, the amusement draining into something far more cutting.

"Evangeline is a person, not Elijah's property."

Silence flickered through the room.

"You all talk about her as though she is something to be retrieved, passed around, or guarded," Aurora continued, voice cool now. "It is grotesquely chauvinistic."

Niklaus blinked once, then leaned back slightly as though considering her with new interest.

"Careful, Aurora," he said lightly. "You'll start sounding positively enlightened."

Her eyes brightened at that, as if he'd just handed her a gift.

"I am enlightened."

"Debatable."

"Am I incorrect?"

A beat. Niklaus's mouth curled. "She is my brother's wife."

"And therefore what?" Aurora shot back. "A possession?"

That earned a sharper look from him.

"She was in his bed," Niklaus replied, tone turning pointed, “Vulnerable.”

Aurora smiled, almost delighted now. "Exactly my point. You say it as though that makes her less of a person and more of a location." Kol made a strangled sound of amusement off to the side. Niklaus studied her for a moment longer, then let out a slow, approving hum. "I do enjoy when you develop a spine." Aurora's smile widened. "Good. I was hoping you would." Niklaus went still. Aurora smiled at him with such transparent delight that Tristan's expression collapsed into disgust. Lucien looked away. Kol noticed both reactions and grinned. Evangeline looked from Aurora to Niklaus and hummed. Aurora's eyes narrowed. "Don't."

"You really did all this for him."

"I did not."

Niklaus's mouth curled into a smug smile. Aurora immediately looked at him again. Tristan groaned. "For God's sake."

"I wanted to see everyone," Aurora insisted. "Tristan was here. Eva was here. Niklaus was here. I knew if I took Eva, all of you would come."

The room went silent. Kol considered this. "That is completely insane."

"Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"I've chosen to receive it as one."

Evangeline laughed. Elijah looked down at her. "Do not encourage her."

"I'm not."

"You are laughing with the woman who stole you."

"She gave me champagne."

"That is not helping."

Aurora looked pleased with herself until Tristan stepped closer, "You frightened him." The amusement faded. Aurora looked at Elijah. Tristan continued more quietly. "You knew Evangeline was safe. Elijah did not. You could have at least left a note." For the first time that night, Aurora appeared genuinely chastened, "I wasn't going to hurt her."

"I know," Tristan replied. "But he didn't."

Aurora looked between Elijah and Evangeline, taking in the way his arm remained locked around his wife's waist and how Evangeline had instinctively settled against him the moment he arrived.

"I'm sorry, Eva."

Evangeline softened immediately. "I know." Elijah looked scandalized. "That's it?"

"She apologized."

"To you."

"You're considerably less approachable at present." Kol snorted.

Elijah ignored him and pulled his coat more securely around Evangeline. "I'm taking you home."

"Good."

Niklaus pointed toward Aurora. "And you are putting on something respectable before leaving this room." Aurora looked down at her own attire. "What's wrong with this?" Every man answered at once, ”No." Rebekah stared at them. "Good God." Aurora looked toward Niklaus. "You don't like it?" Tristan's eyes widened. "Do not answer that." Niklaus smiled. Lucien cursed under his breath and walked away. Evangeline tucked herself closer beneath Elijah's arm as the argument erupted around them. She was tired, tipsy, barefoot and quite ready to return to the bed from which she'd been stolen. Elijah looked down at her. "Are you truly all right?" She touched his cheek. "I'm perfectly fine. Properly drunk, but I'm fine."

His eyes closed briefly as he leaned into her palm.

"Take me home."

"Gladly."

Behind them, Aurora was still attempting to convince Niklaus that her nightdress was perfectly respectable while Tristan argued that she was not taking another step into the street dressed like that. Lucien appeared to be reconsidering every decision that had led him there. And only then did Elijah fully understand what Aurora had done. Evangeline had never been in danger. She had never even truly been Aurora's target. Aurora had wanted her friend without Elijah hovering over them. She had wanted Tristan to come running, wanted Lucien dragged along behind him, and, more than anything, she had wanted Niklaus Mikaelson to hear that she had taken Evangeline and cross the city looking for her.

So Aurora had chosen the one piece of bait she knew none of them could ignore. She had taken Evangeline. And every person she missed had come running, just like old times.