Warrior | Stefan Salvatore

Chapter 7

Hope was having a good time.

Suddenly, she had many people there, doting on her and helping her have fun. Everyone was paying attention to her and telling her how sweet and pretty she was. Spoiling her with love and making her laugh.

After Klaus and Hayley left, Graciela sat with her on a playmat in the living room while Cami looked around the kitchen, trying to find something to drink. Elijah was in the doorway, calling Rebekah for the millionth time. She hadn't answered yet.

"Hello baby," said Graciela, smiling as she played peek-a-boo with Hope. "Ah! Hi there..." Hope giggled, and started to topple over, but Graciela caught her with ease. "I've never been funny enough for someone to fall over laughing, sweet little thing. What is it your dad calls you? Littlest wolf? Maybe I'll call you a teeny tiny wolf. Teeny tiny..." she tickled her, "teeny tiny..."

Hope squealed with laughter. In the kitchen, Cami cried out, "Yahtzee!"

"What?" asked Graciela. Hope gasped, as if also curious.

She emerged with a bottle of bourbon. "If there's one thing I've learned about the Mikaelsons, it's that there's always a bottle of booze around." She started to gather glasses for them. "Do you want some, Graciela?"

"Oh, I can't," the young girl said, shaking her head. "Not over twenty-one."

"Off the record, because I totally shouldn't be recommending this, but I'm sure you can drink if you're being supervised and don't have too much!"

Graciela gave a weak laugh. "I know that, but I haven't drank since prom night when I got ridiculously drunk and almost..." she trailed off, and quickly said, "I just don't drink anymore."

Cami seemed to know what she'd been about to say. Graciela couldn't remember many details from prom night when she returned drunk as hell to her home and Francesca had rushed into the bathroom to find her hurling in the toilet. In the aftermath, Francesca had been terrified to learn that Graciela had been the one convincing her friends at the time to go and continue the party in a construction zone, which surely would have led someone to die because of her. At the time, she didn't even know werewolves were real. She'd been two days from turning eighteen. Klaus Mikaelson hadn't even returned to New Orleans at the time, there was no reason for her siblings to be scheming.

"Elijah?" offered Cami, getting only two glasses. "You want one?"

The Original's smile appeared to be condescending as he joined them in the living room. "Sounds delightful. And after that, Camille, then what? We have another, and another, perhaps another after that, another after that... Before long, I find myself opening up to you, or—" he made air-quotes, "'baring my damaged soul,' as it were." Cami rolled her eyes, and he said, "It's an old trick, Camille. Not a particularly clever one."

"Your mother really did a number on you boys, didn't she?" she asked, sitting on the couch with the bourbon and pouring herself a glass. "Has it ever occurred to you that I'm less interested in fixing your problems and more interested in forgetting my own? I mean, I'm basically in a supernatural witness protection program because your psychotic brother— who, by the way, I practically had to seduce— wants me dead."

She reached into a box and pulled out a game of Trivial Pursuit, setting it on the table. "So, yeah— booze and board games is pretty much where I'm at right now." She pulled out one of the game cards as Elijah sat down on the armchair. "Here's a question— what was the name of Don Quixote's horse?"

"This is absurd," Elijah muttered.

"Elijah," said Graciela, giving him a significant look as Hope crawled onto her lap. "Don't be rude."