chapter fifteen,

She would normally be messing about with Jeremy or Bonnie, but when the doctor at the hospital had advised that she take it slow, Carrie had refused to let her leave the house without her. She'd been absolutely furious with Marian after she'd stayed at Jeremy's last night; Damon had told her that she'd almost been yelling at him over the phone when he told her.

Now, she sat upside-down on the couch watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, a large half-eaten slice of the cake she'd made that morning beside her head. On the coffee table sat the rest of the cake, purple icing mixed with a few stray crumbs spread roughly around it. That was one of the good things that came from her mother working in the only bakery in town; they always had supplies in the kitchen. Marian laughed at the thought of Carrie arriving home early, the horrified look that would cover her face at the sight of her daughter.

The afternoon had slowly turned to evening as the movie progressed. She'd eventually made herself comfortable, lying on the couch with a blanket tucked tightly around her. Just as her eyes slowly closed—making the cake had taken more out of her than she'd thought—the doorbell rang. Her head sprung up at the shrill sound, a loud groan escaping her as she begrudgingly got out of her comfortable position.

The coolness of the wooden floor beneath her feet—though she was wearing socks—sent a shiver down Marian's body as she made her way to the front door, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders to try and keep her warm. She opened the door, her eyes widening when she saw who was on the other side of it.

"I thought we could have dinner."

Marian smiled as her uncle lifted paper bags of food into the air. "You didn't tell me you were back," she said to him.

"I thought I'd surprise you," he said. Both stood there for a moment. Marian was overjoyed; he'd come back just like he'd promised. She wasn't alone anymore. "Well, don't keep me waiting," he pushed.

"Oh!" Marian said. She'd forgotten that he hadn't been invited in yet. "Come in. Sorry." She laughed, moving away from the door as he stepped inside. Almost immediately, she wrapped her arms around him. "I missed you," she muttered. He chuckled.

"I missed you too, little one," he said softly, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "But I think there's someone who's missed you much more standing at the door." Marian frowned, lifting her head and looking over his shoulder. She froze when she saw her aunt standing there, a grin on her face.

"Aunt Bekah!" Marian exclaimed, quickly letting go of Klaus and hugging Rebekah tightly. "I can't believe you're here." She felt tears welling in her eyes; after all, she hadn't seen her aunt in over a century.

"Look at you," said Rebekah. "Beautiful as ever."

"You haven't changed a bit," the girl said.

"Yes, alright. We get it," Klaus grumbled. "You both look great, now let's go. I'm starving." Both girls looked at each other then to him, a disapproving look on both their faces.

The three settled down in the kitchen, talking while they ate their dinner. Rebekah asked Marian lots of questions about the things she'd done since they'd last been together in 1914. She'd died of a heart attack when her father had been daggered—it was a common consequence, given the dagger was laced with white oak ashes—and had thus been given a new life in a place far away.

Marian had been reborn in a small village in the north of France near the city of Lille, her father a French militant who was injured in the First World War. At eighteen, she'd been married to a boy named Bertrand, and together they'd had three children. The oldest, Nancy, had died after contracting the measles a month after she'd been born. Marian and her husband had been devastated.

"Elijah found me, you know. In 1940," she told them. Klaus frowned, setting his fork on the table. Elijah had been with him during the 1940s; he'd never left his side. "It was the day my youngest child was born. He's the reason I survived the war."

"How?" Rebekah asked curiously. She had no idea what war Marian was referring to, but from the girl's sudden tensing of the shoulders, she could tell it had been a bad one.

"He sent my children and I to live with his friend in America. My husband had been killed and our village was being taken over. It wasn't safe for us anymore." Marian looked down, her mind wandering back to that time. She'd never been so afraid of death as she had been when they'd fled their home in France.

"And let me guess," said Klaus, resting his fork on his lips with a teasing smirk. "You fell in love with the first pretty boy you laid eyes on."

Marian narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, come now Nik. That's not nice," Rebekah chastised him. "I'll bet it was something much more romantic than that."

"Yeah, Nik," Marian said pointedly. "Actually, we met under unfortunate circumstances," she admitted. "I went to a dance with my friends and he was bullying some poor little guy." She gulped, looking down. "I might have punched him."

Klaus choked on his drink—he'd brought a blood bag for himself and Rebekah—covering his mouth as he failed at hiding his laughter. "You ... what?" he asked.

"You punched a boy in public?" Rebekah asked. Marian chewed her lip as she tried to hide her grin. She could still remember the rush she'd felt after it; she supposed that was how Hermione felt after punching Draco. "That's amazing!"

"Don't tell Uncle 'Lijah," said Marian. "I'm pretty sure he'll kill me."

"He most definitely will," the siblings agreed. Marian then went on to tell them about how he'd decided to pester her until she apologised, which she never did. She couldn't quite remember when she first knew that she loved him, but over time, his constant following her around had turned into him voluntarily keeping her company. They'd married—her two children had been the flower girl and boy—and had three children of her own.

Rebekah hummed, quickly swallowing her food before speaking again. "Speaking of boys," she said. "Are there any in this century that you fancy?" Marian looked nervously to Klaus who gave her an amused look. "What? What am I missing?"

Marian gulped. "He doesn't like me like that," she said softly.

Rebekah looked to Klaus, who nodded curtly. He'd had people keep a close eye on Marian since he'd left; they'd informed him of how upset she was by his relationship with the Bennett witch. "Do you want me to kill him?" Rebekah asked.

"Bekah!" Marian gasped with a laugh. "Oh my God!" She'd forgotten just how blunt her aunt could be.

Klaus shook his head, looking intently at his sister as he spoke firmly."There will be none of that," he chastised. "There's enough drama in this town as it stands."

"You're not wrong," Marian mused. "This town's a hell-hole."

...

Rebekah and Klaus had left an hour after dinner, Klaus and Marian trying their best to teach Rebekah about the works of the twenty-first century. Marian—due to her big heart and love of history—had given her aunt a crash course on what had happened in the world while she'd been daggered, and had lent her some of her old textbooks to give more information.

Carrie had come home long after her daughter had gone to bed, having had a truly lovely night with her boyfriend. She'd given Marian a quick kiss on the head before going to sleep herself, and one again when she left for work early the next morning.

Marian had woken up to find that her mother had wrapped up the cake she'd forgotten about, a sticky note on top saying: "If I find out you've eaten all that cake by yourself, you're in big trouble missy!" She laughed and unwrapped it, taking a fork from the drawer and beginning to eat it.

She sat on the couch, continuing to watch the Prisoner of Azkaban—Klaus and Rebekah had stopped her from watching it. She still had her pyjamas on, her hair messily tied in a bun. She groaned, hearing the doorbell ring again. Marian had always wanted to be popular, but if this was what popularity entailed, she didn't envy the people who were. People like Elena, who constantly had people surrounding them.

She rolled her eyes as she saw Elena—or a version of her—standing on her front porch through the window in the living room. She had curled hair, her 'bad girl' clothes screaming 'I'm not Elena'. "You're not welcome here," she yelled as she walked to the front door, still not opening it.

"I was thinking of going on a road trip," Katherine called back. "Wanna join?"

Marian opened the door, a smile on her face before it dramatically fell, giving Katherine false hope that she would. She gave the vampire a blank stare. "Can't," she said. "I'll tell you why." She held three fingers up. "I'm on house arrest." She put one finger down. "My mom would never let me go out with a stranger." She turned her hand so her palm was facing her, putting the second finger down and leaving her middle finger up. "I don't actually like you."

Katherine scoffed. "Too bad," she said. "I'm bored and you're good company when you want to be."

"Well I don't want to be," Marian said with a forced smile, he lips in a firm line.

"We used to be friends. What happened?"

The girl scoffed, shaking her head. "You slept with my fiance," Marian said angrily. "You force-fed him your blood, and you got him killed."

"Wow." The vampire nodded, her lips pursed. "I really am a bitch."

"Yeah, you are," the girl agreed.

part ii:

tvd s3, e4, ""

words —