1821 — Hastings, Sussex, England
Hastings was a borough in the county of East Sussex in the south coast of England. It was fifty-three miles from London with a population of over six-thousand. The town was filled with many buildings, colourful and glum. Every red reminded one of a brilliant cherry scarlet. Every blue was a bright royal hue, neither light or dark, just perfect. The buildings were an amazing jumble of different styles: rickety wooden shops, wood and brick houses, and a huge stone church. One of the buildings of the huge stone church was known as Mother Guillemette's Private Orphanage. With over two hundred children, it was the only orphanage in Hastings.
One of those children was a golden haired, blue eyed girl. What separates her from the rest of the children in the orphanage was the blue of her eyes. Most blue eyes were captivating, where one swore they could dive into them. When one peered into her frozen irises, one felt an electrical chill run down their spine, like ice; as if a blizzard was eternally raging on with a black void in the centre that were her pupils. It captivated each person that glanced into her eyes.
At only a few days old, that girl was left at the top step of the orphanage with a note and a bag of gold. The note read: This is my daughter, Eleanor Fraser. I wish her to live a clean life. I shall pay for her upkeep with gold, which I'll leave every month that she lives. Please, tell her I'm dead.
Eleanor was suddenly woken from her dreams when one of the nuns hit the side of her bed with a rather large disciplinary stick. "You!" she quietly hissed, pointing the end at her. "Up! Come on, girl, up!"
Hesitantly, Eleanor stood and followed the nun out of the room she shared with countless other orphaned girls. Outside the bedroom stood a gentleman with a scar covering the right side of his face. He gave her a polite smile, nodded at the nun, and signalled Eleanor to follow him.
She followed the man up the dwindling steps of the building, admiring the few colourful paintings and dull statues the orphanage had on the walls: fallen angels, God, the Virgin Mary, Jesus Christ, and chubby little naked men that flew around women. They weren't that beautiful, but they were the only speck of colour—other than the currant coloured uniform—Eleanor saw at the orphanage.
They stopped at one of the corridors that led to the courtyard, where pigeons loved to make their nests and the only warmth were the few lit candles hanging on the walls. Eleanor hugged herself as the man stopped and turned, taking a few steps to her.
"Eleanor Fraser," the man breathed, staring at her. "Look at you; fair as a lily... I knew your mother."
"My mother is dead," she responded, looking away from his eyes. She preferred to look to his forehead instead of the blank right eye and the dull grey left eye. He appeared burnt, scarred.
"Is that what they told you?" the man sneered. "They fed you lies." He brushed a cold gloved hand down her cheek. "Your mother-your mother stole something from me." He pressed his other hand among his cheek, as if he were trying to cover the burn. "Now I'll steal something from her." He grabbed her neck and pushed her to the wall, pressing himself against her. She shut her eyes closed as the stench of alcohol hit her face as the man's hand began to push up her nightdress. "My disease has no cure. When I'm finished with you, you'll be a child no longer." The man pressed himself even closer, and turned her head to him. "Look at me!"
Eleanor couldn't do anything else but keep quiet and stare at the barren moon from behind the man's head. It was the only that gave her comfort, the only thing that stopped the horrid thoughts that were running through her mind. She was so broken that she could hear her name echoing in the distance.
"Eleanor!"
It sounded like a ghost whispering through the walls, soothing the pain that occurred all over. The voice was filled with horror and worry, yet it held warmth. It felt like a blanket covering her body, one that protected her against the darkness of the world.
"Eleanor!"
The man pulled away as she fell to the ground with gentle sobs racking her chest. He towered over her with a small smirk around his lips. "Give your mother my regards," he said as he pulled on the same cold gloves that touched her. "Welcome to a slow death."
"Eleanor!"
The man tossed her two gold coins and sneered a low, "Welcome, whore."
"No!"
The same voice that resembled the ghost came closer, revealing a blond woman. She ran through the pigeons on the corridor, until she came to the man. Over and over again, she hit the man's chest with her small fists. The man pushed her away with all his might, making her hit the wall rather hard. With one last look at the two women, the man left with a wide smirk around his lips.
"No..." the woman cried, falling to her knees in front of Eleanor. "Eleanor, no..." She reached her, and laid both hands gently on her cheeks, and rubbed her thumbs up and down. "Eleanor... My sweet, sweet Eleanor... Come with me. We must leave this place." She stood and took her hand, pulling her up and running out of the church as soon as possible.
They weaved through the stone paths of Hastings. There were no people on the streets except the drunk and those who paid for sex. Eleanor kept close to the woman as she passed through the corner filled with drunken men that reached out to her. She flinched and whimpered, pushing them away with her free hand.
"Come on, sweetheart," the woman hummed as she pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Ignore those bastards. Just continue walking."
"Where are we going?" Eleanor asked, staring at the back of the head of the woman. "Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere safe," the woman responded. "To a new life."
"Who are you?" Eleanor continued with her questions, curious. She wanted to know who was this woman that gave her comfort was. The woman was so strikingly familiar that she remembered her seeing her once in a dream. The long blonde hair, the plump lips, the beauty mark in the corner of her chin, the slightly crooked nose, and the dazzling blue eyes that resembled the sunny sky under the candlelights that were illuminated through the streets.
Eleanor wondered how could this woman look so similar to her. She thought that she could be a sister; maybe her mother had another child before she died. Maybe, just maybe, they got separated. Her other thought was that this woman, this strange woman that took her into her arms, might just have been her dead mother.
"That's not important right now," the woman said, quickly glancing back. "Right now, just follow me."
"But, where are you taking me?" Eleanor continued to ask. "I should go back to the orphanage—"
"No!" The woman suddenly turned and laid her hands on the coppered haired girls shoulder. "You will never be going back to that place, Eleanor."
Eleanor stared at the woman with her brows furrowed, her head slightly tilted to the side. She had never had a problem at the orphanage; she had sung the songs of the church, she marched down the beach with Sister Joan and Sister Galia while singing, she had paid attention to Father Brine, and she had done everything she was asked. But, there was a part of her that was happy that she didn't have to go back.
The woman stopped in front of a rather large house, and she walked in without knocking on the door. She kept a tight hold on Eleanor's hand as she marched to a double-sided wooden door. Behind the door stood three people, two men and one blond woman.
"Klaus!" the woman yelled as she marched in, her chest raking up and down. "I've come to to get the favour you owe me."
The only blonde man stood from his chair with a deep breath, and took careful steps to the woman. Eleanor stared at him, both frightened and intrigued. When his eyes met her, she let out a soft gasp.
His eyes were blue. They were the blue that froze her in place, captivated her for even the slightest of moments. Not like the sea which would reflect the moonlight, but they were like ice, transparent. And every time Eleanor looked at them she could see that the ice was frozen over. Like the northern continent she heard of from the Sister's, the one covered in ice and snow. And they looked so cold and aged, like his stare could freeze the whole world in a moment. She couldn't look away.
"Sorcha," the man softly said, his voice dripping like lace. "So, you've come at dawn so I could return a favour?"
"I saved your life," Sorcha hissed, pointing at the man with a polished finger. "You owe me. A life for a life."
"Oh, so you wish for me to turn you?" Klaus chuckled and rolled his eyes, glancing at the two people behind him. "So many petty humans wanting to be immortal."
Eleanor was tuning his voice in an out. His voice was like pudding, sweet in its ordinary sort of way. It was the richness of his tone—luxurious and warm—that made her stomach flip. It was a voice that sunk and wrapped one up, yet vibrated with power and shook the ground like a storm.
"No," Sorcha, the woman, said, shaking her head. "Not me, her." She pushed Eleanor to the front, her chest almost colliding with the man's. "A life for a life—hers."
Klaus stared down at girl, admiring the simpleness of the girl. Her hair was the colour of hay, and her eyes were blue. Blue and stunning. They reminded him of a fragile piece of blue china, the lightest shade of blue, like the sky in the early morning, just after the sun rose. Her eyes reminded him of something extravagant. He knew, in that moment and in that moment only, that the twinkle in her eyes was the most beautiful thing he could witness in that lifetime.
"You want me to turn her?" Klaus asked, his voice sounding distant, as if he were deep in thought. "Usually, a mother wouldn't want to curse their child."
"It wouldn't be a curse compared to what I've been through," Sorcha replied, looking down with a sigh. She looked over at Eleanor, a saddened smile spreading around her pink lips. "I gave up on her the moment I knew I was with child. The whore house had a rule against children: they were either to die or be taken away. I planned on killing her, you know, but when her eyes met mine... You could say love consumed me. Instead of killing her, I took her to the orphanage and paid for her upkeep on my back and knees."
Eleanor stared at the woman with her mouth slightly open. Had she confessed of being her mother? It took her by surprise. Since she was a child, she's been told that her mother was dead. So, how could this woman be her mother? Yes, they had similar features, but so did the girl that slept next to her in the orphanage. So did half of England.
"Why are you bringing her to us, then?" The blond woman on the seat asked, glancing from Eleanor to Sorcha. "Do wish for one of us to turn her?" She was tall, with light blond hair, pale blue eyes, full plump lips, and light skin that reminded Eleanor of a pearl.
"I wish for one of you to give her a life away from here, away from pain, away from every horror a human has to go through," Sorcha responded, turning her head back to Klaus. "You owe me a favour, and this is what I want."
"Niklaus," the other man in the room softly said, "you should think about it before everything." He was tall, with brown hair and brown eyes. His facial features were angular—high cheekbones, a strong jawline, and a straight nose. If he weren't wearing a simple suit, Eleanor would have mistaken him for the king.
"What is there to think about?" Klaus chuckled, circling Eleanor. Her eyes went from the other man to him, following his careful movement. "A life for a life."
"Then, will you do it?" Sorcha asked, looking up at him hopefully. "Will you turn my Eleanor and give her a happy life?"
"I'll do it," Klaus said, quickly glancing at the girl. "But, it will cost you something more. You see, this isn't just a favour, Sorcha. You want me to give her a new life, a second chance in a much better world. I thought you would have asked for a smaller favour, not to turn your daughter into a vampire."
"W-what?" Eleanor asked, pulling away from Sorcha's arm. "A w-what?" She began to take careful steps back.
"Nik, you've scared the girl!" the blond girl whined, sighing.
"What do you mean turn me?" Eleanor asked, looking at Sorcha. "Why... Why would I want to be turned into a monster?"
"No, no, no!" Sorcha grabbed her cheeks, and gave her a soft smile. "Not a monster, sweetheart. Don't think that you'll be turned to a monster, think that you'll be able to live longer. You will be able to travel the whole world; you will be able to see time, the sun rising over and over again to create a new day. You won't have thousands, you'll have million sunrises and sundown. Don't think of this as a curse, but as a blessing."
"Mother, please!" Eleanor begged, pulling away. The word mother felt strange on her tongue. It felt sour, but it also felt like a warm piece of bread on a cold morning. She then wished she could have said that word more than when she was scared. But, wasn't that then when children called out for their mothers, when they were scared?
"Mother..." Sorcha softly repeated, smiling. "I wish to have heard that more."
"Don't..." Eleanor began to shake her head and take careful steps back to the door. When she turned to open it, she screamed. Klaus was standing in front of her, a small smirk around his lips. "Please, don't! Don't!"
"Think of it as a blessing," he repeated, laying his hands on her shoulders. "We can take you wherever in the world that you want. You want to go to France? I can take you. How about London? You've never been there, right? Come on now, Eleanor." He moved her hair away from her shoulder, brushing his fingers through the small vein that was visible to him. "Just say yes."
"No..." Eleanor muttered, shaking her head. "Please, don't."
"Eleanor!" Sorcha pushed a strand of Eleanor's hair behind her ear. "This is for your own good. Please."
Before Eleanor could disagree, her mouth was covered by Klaus' bleeding wrist. The blood moved around her mouth, falling down her throat as she tried to pull away, but she couldn't. Klaus kept a hold on the back of her head, pushing her whenever she pulled. There was something in him that told him to turn her, favour from Sorcha or not. He was being selfish by turning her, but he had always been selfish.
When Eleanor pulled away, Klaus smiled and laid his hands gently on her neck. He moved his thumb up and down, calming her heavy breathing and the soft sobbing that echoed around the room. "It's okay," he told her, leaning a bit closer. "You will soon feel better, Eleanor."
The last thing Eleanor saw with her human eyes was Klaus' smile, the sweet smile that belonged to a beautiful devil.
Backstory inspired by Byzantium.