1822 - New Orleans, Louisiana
New Orleans was a place of new wonder and splendour for Eleanor Fraser. There were so many unusual things that she had never seen in the privacy of the orphanage, many unusual things that she had to accustom to quickly. And she did accustom to them quickly.
In the few times she had been out of the big mansion she had began to call home, she had grown fond of the little place they called Vieux Carré, or the French Quarter. There were flock of pigeons in the centre of the piazza; their numbers delighting children as they huddled around the birds and fed them crumbs of breads. To others, the birds were considered a nuisance. Colourful walls and roofs, elaborately decorated ironwork balconies and galleries. She could hear every kind of language (Spanish, French, and a little bit of Irish), see so many people, and hear the chanting of voodoo priestess that were hiding deep in their homes.
As Eleanor walked along the streets with Rebekah by her side, she stared up at balconies and galleries of the colourful houses. People stood on top, fanning themselves with numbly coloured fans and staring down at the civilization below as if they were beneath them. They laughed, they stared, and one of the woman that stood there, a white fan covering half of her dark face, stared down at the girl. Eleanor stopped and stared up at her; tundra blue colliding with untouched earth. The woman lowered the fan and slowly inched closer from the railing, as if she were trying to get a closer look at the girl. Slowly, her straight lip rose to one side, creating a wicked smirk.
"Rebekah," Eleanor softly called. "Rebekah, who is that woman?" She turned to the eldest vampire with an arched brow.
Rebekah turned from the vendor and followed her eyes, a small gasp escaping her lips. She then scoffed. "That is Nanette Passebon, the voodoo queen of New Orleans." Her pronunciation of the French name was impeccable, but her tone sounded sarcastic. "I'd stray as far from her as possible, Eleanor. She sounds lovely, but her magic is dangerous."
"She's been staring," Eleanor muttered, glancing back at the now empty balcony. "Well, she was."
"Then let her do only that." Rebekah grabbed the girl's arm and pulled her away, mumbling about how Nanette Passebon was a witch that couldn't be trusted. Eleanor listened, a small smile around her lips. She knew that there were good and bad witches, just like everything else in the world, but she didn't think the witch was bad. In fact, she thought that the woman looked nice; she was reminded of freshly picked flowers when their eyes met.
"Eleanor!" Rebekah called, waving her hand in front of her face. "If you're not paying attention to me, at least pay attention to him."
"Blue," the man in front of her said. "Blue will do."
"Blue?" Eleanor questioned, confused at the sudden mention of the colour. When she adjusted her eyes at the man in front of her, she noticed that they were in a shop filled with dresses. The man was holding up cloths of every shade of blue. He then waltzed away from her and began to pull out dresses, conversing with Rebekah about the big party.
The three Mikaelson's were throwing a party at the governor's mansion, something about wanting to celebrate Eleanor's arrival. They were three for throwing parties, and how could the young vampire deny the pleasure of something she had never had. A party, dresses, champagne and food so little that it could be eaten in one bite. She wondered if people ever ate at these lavish parties, and if they gotten so full that they couldn't stand for days. The only time she had ever felt full was after her transition, when Klaus taught her how to properly feed and enjoy the blood.
Eleanor ended up having three dresses from Abraham's Designs: a dress the colour of olives, a dress the colour of pearls, and a dress the colour of the night. The dress wasn't black, but in fact a deep blue. It wasn't too light nor too dark, but perfect. The dress complimented her skin, made her eyes pop out, and squeezed just in the right places.
"Do I need these many dresses?" Eleanor asked Rebekah as they walked back to the mansion. "Doesn't it seem a bit too lavish?"
"Nothing is too lavish, Eleanor," Rebekah answered with a soft smirk. "Everything is just perfect."
The older vampire reminded Eleanor much of Klaus: the smirk, the short, sarcastic laugh, the little hint of patience, and the want for everything to be absolutely perfect. Rebekah was much more similar to Klaus than she was to Elijah. While the oldest sibling thought rationally, the other two went with their pride. Of course, Eleanor could do nothing but admire all three. They did take her in and brought her all the way to America, so how could she think ill of them?
At the governor's house, she was immediately taken to be prepared. She was bathed in warm water with a hint of rose oil, her hair was done in tight curls, and her corset was tightened to make her waist look smaller than it already was. Each time one of the maids pulled the strings, she wondered if one of her ribs would break or if she would suffocate.
"Please," she begged the maid. "That's enough!" She huffed another breath as the maid, once again, tightened the corset.
"No!" the maid said, her rough Creole accent echoing around her. "Corsets must go on tight. You have wide hips, girl, so I must tighten it more."
"You're killing me!" she groaned.
"I'm making you look pretty for the party," the maid defended. "Mr. Klaus must look for a husband for you, girl. With such wide hips, you can give him many children!"
"That's enough, Philomene," Rebekah's voice rang from the door. From the mirror, Eleanor saw Rebekah walking in with a regal pose. She was dressed in a beautiful olive coloured dress, her hair held up, and pearls draped around her neck.
The maid, Philomene, pulled away slowly. She nodded at the eldest vampire as she walked away, her rough hands holding up her skirt. Eleanor could see the disagreement in her eyes as she walked away, as she huffed about how the house had been taken over by the Mikaelson's and the governor was doing nothing about it.
"Does she not know what we are?" Eleanor asked the vampire, who was now helping her with the corset.
Rebekah scoffed and rolled her eyes. "Not everyone needs to know what we are, Eleanor," she said. "What we are must be kept a secret."
"We speak of what we are as if we were hidden treasures," the fledgling said, staring at herself in the mirror, "yet we're mere poison in plain sight."
"You have a way with words," the blonde chuckled. "Elijah needs to stop giving you so many books."
Eleanor chuckled and glanced back at her. "I enjoy the books. They're lovely."
"I'm not one for books," Rebekah said, flashing a smile. "I prefer parties and fun, not boring, old dead blocks of wood with words."
"That is because you have been in this world longer, Bekah," Eleanor laughed. She then stopped when she realized that she didn't call the vampire her full name, but a nickname that she had heard Klaus use for his sister. The fledging straightened herself and turned to look at the girl. "I-I apologise."
"It's all right," Rebekah replied, giving her a small smile. "Only those close to me have ever called me Bekah."
"I apologise," Eleanor repeated, looking down at the hoop that would hold her skirt.
"Eleanor," the blonde chuckled, "it's all right. You can call me Bekah, if you'd like. We are living together, aren't we? And we probably will for a long, long time."
"I keep forgetting that I now live forever," the fledgling commented, her brows furrowing.
"Eternal life is a gift," a new voice joined from behind the two girls. "You should have learned that the first day."
Eleanor's blue eyes collided with another tundra. It was ice against ice, a snow storm that made her exposed shoulders shake with a sudden chill. She suddenly took a soft white blanket laying besides her and held it up against her, covering herself from Klaus's eyes. He chuckled and walked in, almost rolling his eyes. "It's not like I have seen it before, Eleanor."
"Stop teasing the girl," Rebekah said, rolling her eyes. "What are you doing here, Nik?"
"I wanted to see how my girls were doing," he smirked, sending Eleanor a wink.
"We're not your girls," Rebekah defended, crossing her arms. "And, we're doing just fine. Now, if you'd leave."
"Now, why would I leave?" Klaus circled the young vampire, smirking, and then took a seat at the long pearl coloured sofa, lifting his feet up at the ottoman and leaned back. His hand rested by his face, his fingers right by his lips as he continued to smirk and stare at the young vampire.
Eleanor held the blanket against her tightly, her fists bundling the softness as she stared back at the man. She felt her stomach do flips, her heart accelerate, and her fingers twitch as he continued to stare at her. It was as if she was the same young girl in Hastings—shy and nervous—whenever the vampire stared at her. She enjoyed it, yes, but she felt as if her heart would burst through her chest. Her eyes widened when she noticed that the man would probably be able to hear it. She was right, because when she glanced back at him, his smirk had grown.
"Don't worry," he said as he stood. "I'm here because I have a gift for Eleanor."
"Now, this is interesting," Rebekah chuckled, moving out of the way as her brother moved to the young fledgling.
"Turn around, love," he told Eleanor. The girl did as he said, swallowing hard and the nerves racking every inch of her body. Klaus walked behind her and slowly moved her hair from her shoulders, his cold fingers gently nipping at her skin. Eleanor sucked in a breath as their eyes met in the mirror. She didn't notice what he was wrapping around her neck until the cold metal touched her skin. With the sudden change of temperature in her body, she glanced to her neck from the mirror.
There was a necklace decorating her neck. It was a mixture of silver and gold, with eccentric designs and stones that resembled the night sky and its stars. The stones were a mixture of greens, yellows, and blues, and Eleanor couldn't help but reach up and brush her fingers through it. She opened and closed her mouth in surprise, in wonder.
"I... I can't... I can't accept this, Klaus," she said, turning to the vampire behind her. "It's too beautiful."
"It's a gift, love," he smirked. "You need to accept it." Before she could say something, he had already walked away to the door. He stopped and turned, and looked from his sister to the young vampire. "I'll see you two downstairs."
"Come on," Rebekah broke the young vampires' train of thought, making her look back at the blonde with wide eyes and her mouth slightly open. Once again, she open and closed her mouth from the suddenness of Klaus's gift.
Rebekah helped the fledgling with the dress. Eleanor felt as if she were in a dream, as if she would wake up at any moment and be back at the orphanage with Sister Despina waking her up, little Teresa Moore sleeping in the bed next to her, and pull her to the dining room to eat Sister Maria's dull food. But, no, it was no dream. Eleanor was living reality: she was a vampire, she lived with the first vampires in existence, and she was going to attend her first party.
The floor was filled with people of all colours and sizes. There was chatter at every part of the floor, glasses filled with champagne and other alcoholic drinks, waiters walking around with platters filled with foods that could be eaten in one bite. Eleanor could only help but stare from the second floor, a hand on the railing and another on her stomach. She was nervous; she didn't know how was she supposed to act at a party, especially one thrown by the original vampire family.
She had picked the dark blue dress, which complimented the necklace Klaus had given her. The short-waisted dresses sported soft, loose skirts made of white, almost transparent muslin, which was draped loosely like the garments on Greek and Roman statues. It was extravagantly trimmed and decorated with lace, ribbons, and netting. For the first time, Eleanor felt like a princess.
"Eleanor," a deep voice broke her thoughts. She turned to see Elijah softly smiling down at her. "Well, you look beautiful."
"Thank you," she responded, smiling.
"Where did you get that necklace?" He reached for the largest stone that fell onto her chest.
When he stepped back, Eleanor reached for the stone and brushed her fingers past it. It was cold, yet it felt indifferent against her chest. "Klaus gave it to me," she responded, slowly and quietly, as if she wasn't sure she was allowed to divulge who had given it to her. "He said it was a gift."
"Klaus," Elijah hummed.
"Did you call, brother?" The devil himself had appeared besides them suddenly, a smirk around his lips. He turned from his sibling and looked at the younger girl. "Eleanor, you look absolutely ravishing."
She looked down, a small smile spreading around her lips. If she could still blush, her lips would be as red as the apples in the orchard by the mansion. "Thank you," she said as she looked up.
"Come along," Klaus said, grabbing her arm and wrapping it around his. "I should properly introduce you."
With a smirk, he pulled her down the stairs. Eleanor took deep breaths as she moved down each stair, her fingers itching at her skirt. People stared at her, whispers echoing about who she was. There were whispers that she was family, a younger sibling of the Mikaelson's that had been living in England. Others whispered that she was a courtesan bought in France for the pleasure of the younger male. Then there were those whispers, the small ones between the young and elderly women, saying that she was Klaus's wife. The story was that she had lost her child during childbirth and became depressed from the loss, so she stayed in England recuperating while Klaus came to Louisiana.
Eleanor couldn't help but cringe each time she walked away from a person she greeted, hearing their whispers about how they felt sorry for her loss. She could see that Klaus heard them as well, but he kept his smirk up and said nothing. So, she held on tightly to his arm and did the same. She ignored each comment as she walked away, lied through her teeth whenever a lady asked, and gave out the sweetest smile she could muster. If she smiled anymore, her cheeks would break.
Eleanor stood by the side of the ball room, watching couples dance and smile, converse and drink, laugh and drink. She wasn't jealous of the conversation or the laughter, but of the dancers. Each one had a smile on their lips as their limbs moved around carefully. With her hands in front of her, she watched each person move with grace, with care, with remembrance of the dance.
"I see you eyeing the dancers," someone whispered besides her. She jumped from the sudden voice besides her, and turned to see Klaus with the same smirk there.
"I've never been to a party," she responded, turning from him and looking back at the dancers. "It's the first time I've seen people dance so lively. Well, there were some Romani people in Hastings, and they danced in the middle of the streets with liveliness and laughter. This reminds me of that."
"This dance is more synchronized," Klaus began to explain. "While the Romani do it for joy, these people do it because they want others to see them."
Eleanor nodded and allowed herself to watch. "It does look practised."
"Because it is," he chuckled. "Now, would my wife like to dance?"
Eleanor quickly turned to him and shook her head, embarrassment eating at her. "Klaus, please, you must tell them the truth."
"And ruin the fun?" he asked, his smirk rising. "Now, why would I do that?"
"Because it is not fun, it is embarrassing," she tried to reason, shaking her head. "They're lies! We're not married, and I never bore you a child."
He laughed, throwing his head back and shaking his head. "Of course not, love, but it is exciting to think of it, isn't it?" With a smile, Klaus grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dance floor. "Now, how about I teach you how to dance?"