(𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗢𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹𝘀; 1x3, 𝗠𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝗻; OC)
..••°°°°••..
Emery often wondered how drunk the Triple Goddess had to have been to declare Arthur Pendragon as The Once and Future King.
It was this in this particular moment that the thought plagued her mind; as she watched the golden King declare his everlasting love to his sword, Excalibur.
She blinked once, twice.
And thrice.
Then slammed her head against the wall.
A part of her cursed her father. The idiot had only gone and jinxed her two weeks of supposed peace before he'd left to the outlying villages from reports of a spreading sickness.
She'd assumed it would be easy; not allow Arthur out of her sight, ensure the Knobheads of the Round Table didn't accidentally kill one another and Camelot didn't go to war for any petty reason.
Easy. Simple.
This, however, was not in the regime, and she was somewhat delighted that Lancelot Du Lac ―the man to whom she referred to as a gift from the Goddess― could share the disgust at the sight.
"What―" The Knight started, gesturing to their King before turning Emery away from the gory scene of Arthur devouring the sword, in an attempt to preserve a sort of innocence in the young girl. "What is this?"
"Magic." The raven-haired sorceress said with a 'duh' tone. She sent the Knight a raised brow and a 'seriously' look.
Lancelot pursed his lips, nods his head, chastising himself for even asking the obvious. "Yes, but what spell exactly?"
"My guess, a love spell or potion gone wrong."
"Can you do a spell to rid Arthur of it?"
Emery shakes her head, "Not without knowing what spell it is exactly or having the potion to reverse it."
"Right, well, Arthur hasn't left the castle at all for the last few days, so it's safe to assume that the sorcerer is still within our walls or more accurately―"
Lancelot's theory's fall dead of the girl's ears as magic thrums through the air sending goosebumps across her skin. She turns on her heel, heading for the door, ignoring Lancelot's calls as she begins trudging out of the Castle and down into the lower town of Camelot.
Her eyes dart along the villagers, multiple in heated moments of passion in broad daylight, ―some even uncaring of their spouses watching-others fawning over inanimate objects, ―much like the King― but magic oozed from their beings.
Lancelot appeared beside Emery, taking in the scene and wrinkled his nose.
Emery huffed, "Something tells me it's not only Arthur affected."
That was how the Knight and sorceress found themselves in front of Gaius, explaining exactly what had happened, not that it was much.
"I don't believe a sorcerer has infiltrated Camelot's walls but instead a potion has been brewed for the victim to fall for the first thing they lay eyes on once ingested." Gaius told the two which allowed them to sigh in relief. Atleast they didn't have to spend time chasing a rogue sorcerer with a grudge against Uther Pendragon down to lift the spell.
"But in order to find the cure, you need the potion Arthur, and the townsfolk took in the first place." Emery pointed out.
"Precisely." Gaius said with a hint of pride in his eyes.
"That shouldn't be too difficult." Lancelot adds with a twinge of hope in his tone. "I mean what similar things do commoners and a King share?"
Emery nods her head, "Very few."
"I suppose we'll have to look." Lancelot says, "And keep Arthur out of sight. If the council sees him like this, they'll think he's gone mad."
Emery opens her mother to speak but the hum of magic dances across her skin once more. Unlike last time it doesn't travel from a further distance, rather than small seeps jolting through her it seems the air is dancing with the flutters of magic.
"I don't think the council will be of any worries." Emery mumbles before grabbing the Knights hand and tugging him out the door. The two pass multiple lovesick servants and a few Lords and Ladies together before shoving open the throne room doors ―the guards that usually stand guarding them having their lips locked onto one another― and only seeing Geoffrey singing to a quill, the Round Table devoid of any Knights.
"Sir Lancelot." A panting voice calls out, one Emery recognized to be Sir Gief, a kind Knight assigned to the morning patrols. Lancelot shut the throne room doors immediately, turning around to meet his fellow knight. "I come baring news that must be brought to the King's immediate attention."
Before Lancelot could speak up, Emery did. "Arthurs been in bed all day. A fever that won't break which required Gaius to give him a sleeping draft. He should be better by sunrise."
Gief shook his head, his face adorning a concerned look as his eyebrows knit together. Small beads of sweat ran down his face from the heated weather and his fast horse-riding. "I'm afraid this news can't wait."
"Tell us of the news and I'll pass the message along." Lancelot replies.
"Essetir has gathered an army. They march towards Camelot as we speak." Gief informs them.
Emery's breath hitches in her throat at the news. "That's not possible. Cenred died years before, killed by Arthur and he had no heir. All knights had either fled or died in battle."
"I saw it myself, an army baring the crest of Essetir." Gief said.
Lancelot nodded, keeping his composure. "Thank you Gief. I'll report the news to the knights immediately."
Emery's eyes scan the man and the wince he developed when pushing his weight to the left side, she'd seen it enough times before. "Go to Gaius, Gief. You'll be no help bruised if we go to war."
With that, the Knight was off, and Emery pulled Lancelot into the throne room, pointing at the empty Round Table. "I doubt the Knights all decided to move the weekly meeting to the tavern."
"Essetir have an army moving to Camelot on the same day the King and Knights are bewitched." Lancelot deducts with a frown.
"Hardly a coincidence." She retorted then her tone grew serious as her mind began theorizing. "Even if we do find the potion itself it will take Gaius time to procure the necessary ingredients for the cure. I doubt we will have the time if the army is nearing Camelot. The cowardly face behind that army has placed the potion for the reason of lowering Camelot's defenses."
"I don't see why I wasn't affected?" Lancelot murmured to himself, but Emery heard anyhow.
"Have you eaten anything all day, Lance?" Emery inquired.
The Knight shook his head, "Other than an apple, no."
"So, we've narrowed it down to not an apple, helpful." Emery deadpans with a roll of her eyes. Lancelot took no offense to the action, seeing he was just as frustrated as the sorceress regarding the situation. "That only puts every other food item as a potential source for the potion."
"It would have to be food given to a majority of Camelot's army."
"Yes, but that food differs from the one given to other nobles within the Castle, and they are infected also." Emery points out, "Not to mention, Arthur is given something completely different that I had some of this morning and I'm not affected."
"Perhaps it doesn't infect other magic users."
"Perhaps." She sighs, seating herself on one of the chairs, burying her head in her hands while Lancelot lands himself beside her, pondering.
"The townsfolk too," Lancelot adds, "Some barely even have meals, I would not say they would be given food of noble standing. They don't even share the same air so it's not like it's spread by air or even contact."
Silence overcomes the two as they ponder.
"Water," Emery clicks her fingers, shooting up. "It's the only thing that they all possibly have in common. There had been an issue with the well that the nobles usually drink from so the one from the lower town was used. Go to the lower town and give Gaius a bucket from the well. He should be able to find a remedy."
"You said it would still take time. The army isn't far from Camelot, and we are but two." Lancelot points out sending Emery back into a sulk. "What are two against an army?"
Emery meets the Knights eye with a wide, playful grin, gold beginning to seep through her irises. "Enough when one has magic."
She hops off the seat, beginning to make her way out of the room until she is stopped by the Knight, a deeply concerned and protective look overtaking his face. "No. You will not stand against an army alone."
"You have to stay here and make sure Arthur doesn't end up wed to a piece of weaponry." Emery muses, "And I'm sure the rest of the Knobheads will be getting up to all sorts. You're the only one aware of what's happening, you are probably one of the only ones unaffected too but you cannot very well use magic, Lancelot. It has to be me."
Lancelot's discomfort with their plan was present but it didn't deter the sorceress. She had promised to watch over Camelot and her King, she would do it even if it meant laying down her life.
"Alright. Just make sure you don't end up harmed, Emery."
Emery sends him a convincing smile. "Don't worry about me, Lance."
-
The sorceress tapped the left side of her bag, ensuring the aging potion hadn't been forgotten and clutched the large robes she'd bought from the village. It was a pure black cloak, a hood large enough to cover someone's face from others but still allow the person wearing it to see properly.
She strolled down the hallway, making it towards one of the secret tunnels until she saw Arthur fumbling outside his door, stroking Excalibur. She quickly shoved him back inside with a gust of wind, knowing she wouldn't be able to use her own weight as she was tiny, and locked the door once she was inside.
The King shot up from his place on the ground, muttering apologies to Excalibur about dropping it before moving to his bed, placing small kissed on the tip of the blade.
Emery resisted the urge to empty the contents of her stomach. "Arthur, could you please stop defiling your sword in front of me."
Arthur didn't look up at her as he spoke, instead, hush whispers were directed to his sword. "It's alright, my love, we'll have our alone time together soon."
Emery really wished that Gwaine hadn't explained to her what that meant.
She shakes her head, trying her hardest to not smack the idiot-spelled-King. "I need you to stay in your room, Arthur."
"No," Arthur spat, before grasping the handle tightly. "I have plans to take my love out."
"You will do no such thing." Emery demands, narrowing her eyes at the King. "You shall stay here or... I will take your love from you."
"I am the King―"
Usually, when the golden-haired King said those words, it held no menace behind it. From the day he'd met the raven-haired and blue-eyed father/daughter duo a litany of insults was all he received and weirdly enough he enjoyed them. Arthur liked how they were the farthest thing from bootlickers but rather genuine advisors that had an undying sense of loyalty towards only him. Apart of him felt special. Not that he would admit it anytime soon, but he felt honored and entrusted himself to become worthy of such devotion and loyalty.
Emery refrained from snapping, taking a step forward before calming herself and trying a sweeter tone. Now wasn't the time to end up on a chopping block. "It's just that there is quite the chill in the air and... your love wouldn't appreciate such conditions."
Arthur strokes the sword, staring at the weapon with eyes that Emery had only ever seen him use on her father unknowingly. "I suppose you are right."
"When am I not?" She mumbled to herself. Her eyes dart over to the book on the table she'd read over this morning, a heart-breaking love story within the pages in poetic words. "I have a poetry book for you read. If your plan is to woo, then poetry should do the trick."
Arthur ruffles the girl's hair as she approaches him, sending her a soft smile that almost made her believe the spell had been broken. "You come up with lovely ideas. I really should thank you."
"Yes, well, thank me by raising my pay." She counters then hands him the book beginning to make her way out of the room until her eyes caught onto one of the King's former swords, perfectly polished and sharpened ―she would know, she was the one to do it―, her mind ponders a thought for a moment until she sighs, picking up the weapon then sauntering out the room, slamming the door shut and locking it from the outside with her magic before heading in the original direction she'd intended.
Aeureus had a war to stop.
..••°°°°••..
Rebekah pouts her lip. "I cannot believe you disposed of those vampires without me. You know how I love to set things on fire!"
"I know you have less of a social life than I, father dearest, but do try and get out, see the world, and such, than staying in the flat all day, would you?" Emery voices, as she walks up next to Rebekah, her expression pinched as she speaks into the phone.
"If not, I'll fly back to London and drag your arse here. I'm sure you'll love it." The sorceress says sarcastically, then sighed in relief as her father promised to not stay indoors all day. Merlin Ambrosius had always been a sort-of overprotective father, especially when, over a thousand years into their immortality, vampires had emerged, and werewolves only came around a few centuries before that. It had left Merlin uncertain of how to co-exist with said creatures, seeing as how they were constantly at throats with one another, bodies following not soon after—so Emery and Merlin stuck to the shadows, awaiting the day they'd need to truly emerge when their King rose.
Emery eyes the burning vampires with a small grin. "Mhm. No, I won't set anything or anyone on fire. Pinky promise, stick a needle in my eye, you can fuck the next pretty boy on sight." Emery grins at the heavy sigh Merlin releases. "Love you too."
Then she hung up with her own heavy sigh, rubbing her temples. She realized she was being a lot more concerned about her father's wellbeing when it was supposed to be the other way around, given the witch and vampire feud she'd found herself wrapped up in. It seemed the same uneasy feelings coursing through the sorceress seemed to be alerting Merlin, given his insistent calling and texts. Her magic thumped through her veins, leaving a restless, paranoid feeling for her to sink into.
Klaus waits for Emery to finish her call before shooting a smirk at his sister. "Was I supposed to leave them in the front yard to rot? Besides, they were my responsibility. They attacked the helpless pregnant girl who's carrying my child!"
Emery narrowed her eyes at the hybrid. "Call me helpless again, Niklaus, and you'll be joining the pathetic little lackeys only you'll be screaming a hell of a lot more."
Let's not forget the cherry on top: her hormones seemed to be all out of bloody whack, making not just her more irritable than usual but her magic too. This happened to lead to an unexpected fire in the kitchen around 3am.
Panicked, paranoid Originals, a tiresome-pregnant sorceress with destructive magic and an irked werewolf.
Anarchy would be putting it lightly.
Rebekah rolls her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. "Oh, I am so moved by your new-found sense of fatherly duties towards the girl carrying your hybrid bun in her oven."
"I'd like to know about the plan." Hayley voices as she joins the trio in the foyer, clutching Elijah's journal's closely to her chest. The wolf had spent the majority of the night with those journals, scanning through every page.
"Well, that depends what plan you mean, love." Klaus smirks, "My plan for global domination, or Rebekah's plan to find love in a cruel, cruel world?"
Emery squints at Klaus. "I don't like you."
Rebekah threw her brother a faux smile before picking up a pencil from the desk, throwing it in Klaus' direction. The Original Hybrid easily caught the item before it could embed itself in his face with a smug expression, further annoying his sister.
Klaus glances at Emery, the smirk on his lips only broadening. "I'm shattered, love."
Hayley sighs loudly. "The plan to rescue Elijah. You know, the good brother? The one who is now in the possession of your mortal enemy after you stabbed him in the back?"
Klaus smirked. "In the front, if we're being specific."
Hayley points her finger in the direction of the Original siblings and Emery. "You three said that you would get him back. So is there a plan, or what?"
"I'd like to note that this plan is entirely Niklaus', which will ultimately fail," Emery quips, "then we'll move on to a far better one, mine."
Klaus shoots her a glare. Emery sends a grin in reply.
"Okay. Well, firstly, Marcel is not my mortal enemy―he's my friend."
Emery scoffs. "Debatable―"
"Hush." Klaus gives her a look. "Albeit one who is unaware that I'm trying to sabotage his hold over the supernatural community of the French Quarter, but a friend nonetheless. And secondly, I daggered Elijah in order to gain Marcel's trust. If I had known he would place my brother in the hands of a particularly nasty teenage witch, I certainly would have weighed my options a bit differently. And thirdly―" Klaus turns to Rebekah, gesturing for her to speak up. "Sister, please."
"And thirdly," Rebekah begins, "the plan, as you have demanded, is for Niklaus to simply ask Marcel for Elijah back."
"That's... that's not the whole plan, is it?" Hayley questions incredulously.
"Obviously. Haven't you heard niceties and manners get you everywhere, dear." Emery drawls out, a dry tone lacing her voice. Hayley rolls her eyes.
Emery and Niklaus share grins.
Rebekah scoffs, "Please! Klaus may be a miserable excuse for a sibling, but there is none more diabolical."
Niklaus leaned back into a chair, putting his feet onto the desk. "And that's only the Plan A, love! There's always a Plan B."
Hayley hesitantly spoke up once more, "And what's Plan B?"
Klaus didn't have to speak up as Emery's voice weaved through the air.
"War."
Some things never change.
..••°°°°••..
"Are you out of your mind?" Sophie asks incredulously as Rebekah, Klaus, and Emery are seated in the study, explaining the plan. The sorceress and Originals were aware of Hayley eavesdropping on the conversation, but only Emery knew Saphira was keeping a watchful eye on the wolf in case she decided to attempt the murder of the supposedly future Ambrosius child. Aithusa, however, was still sleeping. "No way."
The trio had enacted Klaus' plan. Klaus asked Marcel for Elijah back. Marcel was obviously ecstatic to cooperate.
They moved on to Emery's scheme.
Rebekah had a lovely heart-to-heart with Katie, and the traitorous witch had unknowingly become a pawn in their plan. Emery couldn't stop that gnawing feeling at the back of her mind, the one that told her she condoned violence a little too often, that she couldn't recall a time when brutality and barbarity weren't a central part of her life. It wasn't the circumstances, perhaps it never had been, but―now wasn't the time.
The sorceress had spent the rest of her morning with an adorable newbie vampire named Joshua, who had been compelled by Niklaus to shove a pitchfork into a random vampire's abdomen so it would remove the vervain in his system. She had taken pity on the sweet boy and his continuous babbling—some people were wired, much like herself, to tolerate the ugliness of this world. Joshua was not. Perhaps he would learn, but Emery doubted it, and so she allowed a flush of gold to seep through her eyes, magic rush through her body causing spurts of blood to douse the floor of the cellar from the nightwalker as the vervain left his system.
Now, they were here.
"It's very simple―we need you to perform a teeny, tiny locator spell to help us find our brother."
Sophie scoffs at Rebekah's suggestion. "Witches who practice magic in this town get caught, and then they get killed."
"Trust me, we're aware." The sorceress rolled her eyes. "You've only been bitching about it since we came to this bloody city."
Emery knew that while Davina could sense her magic, the witch wouldn't be able to pinpoint her location, not for the lack of trying on Davina's behalf. The sorceress knew she could find Elijah easily with a spell, but it would also allow Davina to narrow her down, and seeing as how her magic was unpredictable—to say the least—and she wasn't up for a hoard of vampire's trying to take her head, she refused to do so; putting her identity at risk for Elijah wasn't worth it.
Also, there was that annoying link to Sophie, too.
"Yes, about that," Niklaus prompted. "It seems you left out a crucial detail when we made our deal—Marcel's secret weapon, the way he knows when a witch is using magic..."
"Girl about yea high, cute as a button, anger issues?" Rebekah chimed in, earning a shocked look from Sophie.
"Davina? Where have you seen her?" Sophie asks a little too eagerly, making Emery narrow her eyes at the witch.
"I don't know. The little brat erased my memory right after she threw me out a window with her bloody mind." Rebekah retorted.
"Let me cut to the chase." Niklaus says, "Davina has Elijah. You witches, I assume, want to get Davina away from Marcel. We don't know where she is. Ergo, we need magic."
"Davina would sense it." Sophie counters.
Emery rolls her eyes and claps her hands condescendingly. "Way to state the obvious."
"Unless, of course, another witch—say, a traitor to the cause, Katie, for example—was to perform much more powerful magic at the same time." Niklaus offers Emery's solution.
"It would create a smokescreen, concealing the locator spell from Davina." Emery chimed in, earning raised eyebrows from the three—Right, supposed human/hunter. Emery shrugs. "I was taught the basics and such about magic. I know my shit."
Sophie shakes her head. "Katie doesn't deserve to die."
Emery narrows her eyes at the witch, a scoff leaving her lips. "So, Katie apparently doesn't, but you're willing to threaten an innocent unborn child."
"That—That's different." Sophie stutters out, moving away from the heated glare coming from the supposed human.
"Oh, yes, it is." Emery sneers, "Katie chose to get involved with a vampire, and she knew the consequences while the littlest shit hasn't even taken its first breath."
Sophie shakes her head. "Katie doesn't deserve to die." she repeats.
"Sophie Deveraux!" Klaus slammed his hand on the table, earning her attention, and rose to his feet, staring the witch down. Sophie jumped while Emery leaned back, unaffected, reeling in her own magic to stop it from strangling the witch while an odd flutter shot through her. "You're in no position to be so principled. You can't win a war without a few strategic losses, no matter how regrettable they may be. How many times have the vampires been one step ahead, known something they shouldn't? Your sister, executed in the public square for practicing magic―who knew she'd be caught? Did she even attempt to flee?"
Sophie paused for a moment, then spoke quietly, "She was caught hiding in a cargo hold of a freighter before it set sail down the Mississippi."
Emery leans forward, clicking her tongue, knowing they—more like she—had gotten the witch. "And who, pray tell—of Marcel's valued inner circle—manages his business at the docks?"
Sophie squirmed before answering, a defeated look on her face. "Katie's boyfriend, Thierry."
Emery hovers behind Klaus, warm breath tickling his left ear as she leans in closer, a smug smirk on her lips. "Told you my plan would work."
..••°°°°••..
"I come up with the wittiest plans. Truly." Emery grumbled to herself as she stalked through the woods. She stopped as she reached the end of the hill, overlooking what seemed to be a small army made up of sorcerers, judging by the waves of magic rolling off of them.
Emery huffed, then began chanting the aging spell. She wrinkled her nose uncomfortably as her legs began stretching out and her arms widened as her hair grew further down her back. The clothes that once were a little big for her tore into pieces, leaving the girl naked in the forest. She quickly dug through her bag for the clothes Gaius had supplied her with and the cloak.
A shiver ran through the girl as her magic rushed through her veins, sparking at her fingertips and her eyes flushed gold. Emery pulled the hood over her head, covering most of her face, and edged closer to the end of the hill before taking a deep breath and leaping forward. She didn't fall to her death as she imagined but hovered in the air, gold dust emitting from her body before she shot forward, heading for the largest tent that supposedly held the leader of the sorcerer army.
She gracefully landed and shook off her nerves from the eyes of all the sorcerers surrounding her. She turned to the sorcerer army, most of whom had swords pointed in her direction. Her own hand gripped the handle of the sword at her side, relishing in the cool metal against her fingertips. "I wish to speak with your leader."
"That would be me." A male voice spoke loudly as he approached her, flanked by two guards. "What is it you require, sorceress? Come to watch as we take Camelot?"
Emery's eyes narrowed in on the man. "I've come to collect your surrender."
The leader laughed. "There will be no such thing, sorceress."
"Then I suppose I'll settle for taking it."
"You wish to challenge me?" He questioned incredulously, wide-eyed. He laughed.
"Is that not what I said?" Emery retorted dryly. Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"Do you know who I am?" He asks, puffing out his chest. Emery rolls her eyes behind the hood.
"No."
The man looked taken back from her answer. "I am Wyot. The son of the late King Cenred."
"Is that what this is?" Emery remarks, rolling her eyes once again and suppressing a sigh. "Vengeance for a coward?"
Wyot looked enraged. His face resembled that of a child, stomping his feet, red cheeks and clenched fists. "My father was not a coward!"
"No," Emery drawled out sarcastically. "He just preferred to sit back on a throne, having others fight his battles for him and allow, if not order, the deaths of innocents. If those are not the actions of a coward, then I don't know what are."
"You will pay for your words, witch." He spat earning a gasp from the crows of sorcerers who began moving backwards, allowing Emery and Wyot space for their duel. "I will kill you, then have Camelot as my own."
"I have no interest in hearing of your pipe dreams." Emery replied, then watched as Wyot held his hand up; his eyes flashed gold as he shot a spell in her direction. The sorceress hadn't moved as her magic reacted instinctively, creating a shield to protect her.
Multiple gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd and the sorcerers who'd moved to assist Wyot quickly stepped back.
Wyot's eyes flashed gold multiple times, throwing spell after spell at the sorceress until sweat collected on his forehead. Fireballs after fireball, and yet the sorceress merely clasped her fingers tightly behind her back. Wyot's veins popped, and his face flushed red with anger as he continued to try bringing the sorceress down to no avail.
Emery stood rooted in her spot, allowing her magic to take its course, and hadn't even uttered a single word. She pursed her lips, then stuck her hand out, slowly turning it into a fist. The ground beneath shook and followed her commands, vines growing rapidly and curling around Wyot's feet, tugging him down to his knees.
"Who are you?" Wyot panted, looking up at the sorceress in awe as she approached him.
Said sorceress removed her hood, eyes continuously burning gold, magic rolling from her body as she grinned widely. "They call me Aeureus."
..••°°°°••..
"Absolutely not."
"I don't remember asking for your input, Niklaus."
Klaus shakes his head, a hardened expression on his features as he stares the supposed human down. The woman seemed unaffected as she ran her fingers down dresses from her duffel bag, then frowned and threw them wily across the room. "You're not going." He states firmly.
"I happen to do this thing, Niklaus; it's called what I want." Emery replied dryly and huffed. She hadn't any time for shopping and the outfits she currently had still fit her, thankfully, but were far from formal attire. "So, as it turns out, I will be attending."
"Leave the girl be, Nik. If she wants to come, let her." Rebekah pipes up, pausing her nail filing and sparing a glance at the duo earning a grateful look from Emery. The Original sends a wink back.
"Thank you, Rebekah." Emery wore a smug expression. Klaus was fuming. "Moreover, it is my plan, and I need to ensure you don't screw it up."
"You stay by my side," Klaus pointed a finger at her. "At all times, I don't want you a second from either of our sight."
"Of course, mother." The sorceress sighs though her lips turn up at the prospect of finally being able to leave the house. Emery turns to Rebekah. "You have anything for me to borrow, love?"
Rebekah's eyes twinkled, a knowing grin on her lips as she looks at the supposed human up and down. "I just might."
..••°°°°••..
Emery smoothed out the ravishing, off-the-shoulder golden dress with flowy sleeves, tight on her hips and still catching hungry eyes—vampires, humans, male and female, alike—which she disregarded from the moment she'd entered the Compound.
Her eyes flickered to the crests planted on the wall, and she pursed her lips, leaning against the bar in the Abattoir, taking in the dark, wild atmosphere—the hoard of vampires and humans. Acrobats perform intricate dances covered in silk; dancers handle exotic animals on the side; and glitter slowly descends, covering the party guests and floors. Guests laugh alongside one another with fake smiles and clinking glasses, seemingly unaware of the danger possessed by the nightwalkers staring thirstily at them.
"I don't believe we've met." A deep voice spoke, snapping the woman from her observations. Emery side-glances to see a dark-skinned man in a dashing suit. It was obvious from the way he held himself who he was. "And I'm damn sure I wouldn't forget such a beautiful face."
Emery clicks her tongue. "Accuracy earns you a minute."
"Care for a drink and dance?" Marcel asks, leaning against the edge of the bar, closing in on Emery, almost like a predator. Emery sighs, a bored expression on her face as she turns and stares into Marcel's brown eyes. Marcel falters as those piercing blue eyes stare right through him. "It would be rude of me not to ask the prettiest woman at my party."
"I'm afraid your dates are rather more my type, Marcellus," Emery says, gesturing between Camille and Rebekah, who were conversing, the latter of whom wore a tight smile. Rebekah gave Emery a glance, slightly wide-eyed, when she noticed Marcel by her side. "I'm sure it goes both ways. Neither am I blonde nor interested in the complexities revolving love triangles."
"Marcel Gerard." He introduces, enunciating his first name, then extending his hand with a tight smile.
"Emery Fay." She returns, eyes darting down to his hand before firmly shaking it with a sarcastic smile. Marcel clears his throat and retracts his hand, an uncomfortable expression across his features.
"How do you know Rebekah?" Marcel inquired, trying to seem nonchalant as he spoke.
"Whatever gave you the impression I did?" She took a sip of her drink, desperately wishing it was whiskey. Or scotch. Hell, she'd take wine. Anything but the carbonated water she'd been given.
"My sister tends to make friends wherever she goes." Klaus' voice enters their conversation, narrowing his eyes at Marcel as he stands between the two. The sorceress set her drink down with a sigh. "And Emery, unfortunately, happens to be her latest victim."
"Could've been worse," Emery smiles fakely at Klaus. "I might have been stuck with you."
"If you would excuse us, Marcel," Klaus didn't wait for Marcel's reply yet didn't miss the man's laugh, while Emery rolled her eyes as Klaus whisked her to the dance floor with a scowl spread across his features. He takes both of her hands, placing them around his neck, to which she interlocks them. Klaus sets his own hands on her waist as they begin to sway along to the beat of the music.
Only when Marcel is distracted with Camille and the music is high enough that nobody can overhear their conversation does Klaus decide to speak. "I told you—"
Emery cuts him off with a look. "What did I tell you about acting like my father?"
"I'm trying to keep you safe." He hissed before his eyes darted from her blues to her stomach for a second. "Both of you."
"So, it seems," Emery replies quietly. "However, I can assure you, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."
Klaus clenched his jaw and shook his head. "Fine. Have it your way, you stubborn woman." He spun her around and pulled her in, closer than before, their lips inches from one another. "But the minute—"
Emery cut him off once more with a small eyeroll, but with her lips turned upwards of their own accord. "In your delusions, but whatever unwinds your knickers for the night."
Rebekah jerks her head and Klaus and Emery shuffle away from the crowd and over to a private area across the courtyard, a devious look in the blonde Originals's eyes.
"You really are a hideously evil little thing, aren't you?" Niklaus comments at Rebekah, gesturing to Marcel and Camille, who were conversing with one another.
"Nonsense. They're perfect for each other! You wanted Marcel distracted?" Rebekah nods towards the couple, tightening her grip on her glass. "Voilà."
"Personally, I think you could do so much better, Rebekah." Emery hums, glancing at the gorgeous female blonde at her side. "A woman of your caliber shouldn't settle for anything less than the absolute best."
Rebekah's lips turn upward. "You offering, love?"
"Naturally."
"She is not."
Emery and Klaus's replies came at the same time. The supposed human raised a perfectly arched brow in the hybrid's direction, but Klaus sent a pointed look his sister's way, avoiding Emery entirely.
Rebekah grins widely at her brother, goes to speak, but the trio take note of Diego rushing into the party, interrupting Marcel and Camille's dance, whispering into the vampire's ear making the vampire king enraged by the news.
"My cue to leave." Rebekah says.
Emery twiddles her fingers in a wave as Rebekah leaves the Compound for the cemetery. Klaus settles his arm around Emery's waist and the two watch the drama unfold. "Now, I believe you owe me one. My plan has worked out tremendously." Emery points out.
Niklaus leans closer, leaving no space for air to pass through them. "Are we keeping count?"
Emery turns her head, a small grin on her lips. "I don't see why not. All the more glory on my behalf."
Klaus wore an amused expression. "And you speak of my ego."
"I speak merely the truth, Niklaus."
..••°°°°••..
"Emery?" Arthur said but it came out as more as a question as the King of Camelot sat up from his bed then immediately winced. "Why does my head ache?"
"You don't remember?" Emery hummed innocently, staring up at the King with big doe eyes as she sat down beside him on the edge of the soft bed.
"Remember what?" Arthur inquired slowly, rubbing his forehead from the continuous pain.
"There was an outbreak of a sickness within the castle and most of the lower town."
"Was it fatal for anyone?" The Pendragon King immediately asked, concerned for his subjects. A soft smile broke through the girl; Arthur was always concerned for his subjects more than he ever was for himself.
Emery shook her heard earning a sigh of relief from Arthur. "Luckily no. It just proved for a few days of horrid pain and memory loss."
"Memory loss?"
"Yes, the pain had been too much that it creates gaps within one's memories. You could always ask Gaius; he speaks of it in much more detail." Emery grins up at the King who shook his head. Emery didn't blame him, listening to one of Gaius' rambles about medicine was enough to put an entire army to sleep.
"No, it's alright." Arthur replied quickly, missing Emery's amused grin. "As long as everyone is fine."
"Here." She passed him a phial of a murky liquid that he scrunched his nose up at. "Gaius said it should help with the pain."
Arthur downed the potion, resisting the urge to gag which impressed Emery as she handed him a goblet of water after that he accepted gratefully.
"Right, well Gaius said that rest is important if you don't want to fall face flat in front of your council." Emery told him, "Plus, you have those nobles coming to visit tomorrow and you wouldn't want to create a bad impression by falling asleep during the feast. So off you go, back into bed."
"You do realize you can't order me. I am the King."
"When has that stopped me before, oh King of Prats?" She teased making Arthur ruffle her hair then began getting back under his covers while Emery turned away, kneeling in front of an almost burnt-out fire and her eyes flashed making the fire burn brighter.
The sorceress began making her way to the door when Arthur spoke up, "Sweet dreams, Em."
A fond smile found its way on her face. "Sweet dreams, Arthur."
However, this was only the beginning of that incredibly long week full of evil sorcerers, poisonings and far too many assassins.
..••°°°°••..
"What are you doing here?" Emery narrows her eyes to the dark-skinned girl in the foyer—recalling her amongst the witches that held her captive in the Crypt.
The girl smiles brightly. "I'm Sabine. We met. I'm one of Sophie's friends."
"You're one of the witches." Hayley spoke up cautiously as she came down the stairs.
"I know who you are." Emery says, eyeing the girl in distaste—there was a modicum more magic coming off the girl than the rest of her coven. "I asked what you're doing here."
"Sophie just asked me to come keep you company while everyone's out." Sabine tells them.
"No." Emery stated. Hayley's eyes flickered to the irritated raven-haired woman and the pushy witch knowing it wasn't going to end well for the latter given the short-temper Emery had developed.
"What?" Sabine looked a taken back.
When Sabine went to speak again, Emery held her hand up, stopping the witch. "Unless you have an ear or mental affliction, I need not repeat myself. Leave."
Saphira appeared as Sabine went to grab ahold of Emery's forearm, sinking her teeth into the skin, leaving deep indentations and a small crimson mess on Sabine's clothing. The witch screeched in pain and jumped away from the dog.
Emery wore a smug smirk as Saphira jumped into her arms, nuzzling herself into a comfortable position. "I trust you can find the door without assistance."
Sabine glared at the dog but made her way out without another word making Hayley burst out laughing. The wolf patted the dog softly behind her ears but stopped as Saphira twitched and bared her teeth threateningly. "You really don't like witches, huh?" Hayley asks Emery, taking a step away from the supposed human and her blue dog.
"I adore magic-wielders. Back in England, they are nothing short of perfection. They are the pinnacle of nature itself. Keepers of balance—you can taste the magic in the air during the festivals. What I don't like are the French Quarter witches. Their misuse of their gifts—many would die to be chosen as they are. There's something more to this Davina girl; something they are hiding, and I for one do not believe they are as feeble as they seem—call it experience." Emery says bitterly, gritting her teeth. "You would do well to remember that, Hayley."
..••°°°°••..
Rebekah and Emery sit at the piano in the Plantation, the former lazily playing a scattering of notes which the latter easily copies while Rebekah mulls over the failure of finding Elijah.
"When did you learn to play?" Rebekah asks, eyebrows raised as Emery repeats the notes and then continues on the tune.
"When did Cristofori invent the first piano?" Emery muses.
Rebekah rolls her eyes. "There's no need to be sarcastic. It's one innocent question, Emery."
"But if I were to disclose my secrets, it would surely disrupt the future as we know it and upend the very fabric of the space and time continuum, which, I assure you, is fragile enough; thus, we'll all cease to exist, withering away into nothingness and oblivion, allowing a black hole to wholly swallow the earth because Rebekah Mikaelson insisted on one innocent question," Emery remarks sarcastically.
"There's something immensely wrong with you." Rebekah huffs.
Emery smirks. "I know."
Rebekah's back straightens as Klaus strolls into the parlour, completely unperturbed.
Rebekah sighs. "Well, tonight was an epic failure."
"On the contrary, sister." Klaus began, a smirk broadening his lips. "Tonight, was a masterpiece."
Rebekah narrowed her eyes at Klaus. "Are you mad?"
Emery scoffed and interjected, "That was in question?"
"Katie died before Sophie could complete the spell." Rebekah finished.
Klaus looked incredibly pleased with himself. "Oh, I'm well aware. I killed Katie."
"Totally didn't see that coming." Emery mutters sarcastically. "It's not like you're wearing her blood or Klaus Mikaelson is incapable of restraining himself from murder even if it concerns his own flesh and blood."
Rebekah looked appalled by Klaus' confession. "You what?"
Klaus rolled his eyes. "There's no way our little suicide witch wasn't gonna try and take out Marcel with her. I saved his life, and in doing so, I now have him exactly where I want him."
"Sophie trusted you. I trusted you! Against all my better instincts." Rebekah seethes and then she turns to Emery. "And you just knew? And didn't think to tell me?"
Emery pauses her fingers on the keys, turning her head to meet Rebekah's eyes. "You didn't ask."
"Wake up, Rebekah—the witches are on no one's side but their own. This girl, Davina? That's all they want, and when they have her, what do you think happens then, a truce? Of course not. They will use Davina's power against all of us." Klaus explains calmly, huffing as he realized they no longer had any alcohol in the house.
"Even if you're right, the plan was to find Elijah, and you've failed." Rebekah sneered.
"You always did lack faith. By protecting Marcel, I've cemented his trust, so much so that he's agreed to return Elijah to us. And when the time is right, when he has told me everything I need to know about Davina, I will have her for myself." Klaus explains smugly.
"He says, sounding alarmingly similar to child predators." Emery jibes.
"The petty commentary isn't necessary," Klaus snaps, leaning back against a desk.
"No, but if I can't have a fag, they'll have to do." Emery remarks, gaze still on the piano.
"I have all the faith in the world that you'll get what you want, Nik. You always do, no matter what is costs the rest of us. You disgust me." Rebekah seethes, glaring at her brother before storming out the room and then slamming the front door, likely heading to the nearest pub seeing as there was absolutely no alcohol in the house.
"Elijah is returning to us," Klaus says after Emery restarts playing the piano—this time Beethoven.
Emery pauses her playing, not sparing him a glance as she speaks, but there's an undeniable annoyance lacing her tone. "Yes, I've gathered." Her gaze remained solely on the piano keys, her fingers restarting the opening of Beethoven's Sonata 17.
Klaus sighs, and for a minute, Emery thinks he'll leave her be, wallowing in self-despair while playing through all Beethoven's notable compositions. Her tongue pokes her cheek as he sits beside her, fingers skimming the keys and lightly running his own across hers. "Now it's one to me."
Emery laughs lightly. "Still dreaming, hm. More like one all. You're welcome, by the way; my wily plan came in handy for you."
"Modesty; A trait that will undoubtedly be passed along to our child."
Emery releases a small snicker. "Undoubtedly. I suppose, we'll have to rely on the nurture aspect than nature."
"If we leave it to nature, love, this city will reduce to ash—"
"At its first tantrum." Emery finishes, slightly amused.
Klaus hums, "They'll get it from you."
"The irony of those words coming from the most melodramatic cankerous wanker to ever exist." Emery pauses, and turns to Klaus, stare piercing. "I really don't like you."
Niklaus grins. "I'm truly shattered, love."
"On the inside only, it seems. Shame. Though quite the easy fix."
"From you, I wouldn't mind."
Emery rolled her eyes, a small twitch on her lips. Nevertheless, she couldn't allow him the last words. "I will hurl my insides all over that cheap suit."