Anemoia • Mikaelsons mate

Chapter 6

• • • New Orleans, present-day • • •

"What can I get you?"

Florence looks up from her notebook to meet the waitress's eye, she had been busy writing down the details of her previous dreams. After getting ready, Florence had wandered into the first café she found outside her hotel. "I would like a cup of tea, please."

Florence's budget wasn't exactly enormous, but she did thank her past self for saving up for a trip to Europe. She knew she would have to find a job sooner or later during her travels, but the fund did allow her to start the journey. Perhaps she could find a job in Chicago or Mystic Falls.

"Coming right up." The waitress sends Florence a smile before walking off.

"Thank you."

Ever since leaving the compound, as Marcel calls it, she had been mauling over the possibility of Marcel and Charlotte's Marcellus being the same person. It seemed highly unlikely at first, seeing as that meant Marcel would have to be over 200 years old, but then again, the love interests in her dreams were vampires.

If Marcel and Marcellus were the same person, that meant vampires were real and that Marcel was most likely one. This means that the people from her dreams, the Mikaelsons, could still be alive today.

Florence blinks up as the waitress places the tea in front of her.

The girl curiously eyes Florence's notes. "The Mikaelsons?"

Florence feels the urge to cover up what she had written, but stops herself. "It's for a school project, I came across the name."

"There is some history on them, I'm certain you can find information on them in the city archive." The waitress shoots the girl an apprehensive smile.

"Thank you." Florence beams gratefully at the girl. The city archives, why hadn't she come up with that? She puts down a reminder in her phone to look up the location of the city archive before looking up, startled by Marcel's sudden appearance.

"Good morning, Florence. Did you sleep alright?" Marcel smiles kindly at Florence as he slides into her booth, looking interested at the papers that were spread out on the table.

"Good morning." Florence replies timidly before quickly shoving the papers in her bag. Despite Marcel being someone she needed, her dreams were still a bit of a private matter, and she'd rather not go into the intimate details of them. She looks interested at the maybe-vampire, he didn't look like a vampire, but then again she didn't exactly have much to compare him to. He didn't sparkle or wear a cape, so she couldn't exactly draw conclusions based on appearance.

Realizing she hadn't answered Marcel properly, she fabricates a small smile. "I would have slept better if your friend wasn't lurking around my hotel."

"Safety precautions." Marcel shoots Florence an apologetic smile, accompanied by a shrug. The girl seemed to be a bit distant, continuously lost in thought. Despite his impatience at learning more of this girl's story and her knowledge regarding him and the Mikaelsons, he does his best to remain his charming self.

"To protect me? Or to make sure I don't run off?" Florence raises a skeptical brow, unable to stop herself.

"Have you eaten?" Marcel asks, disregarding Florence's questions.

"No, but-"

Marcel holds his hand up to halt Florence's protests and turns around to wave the waitress to their table. He bites back a smile at the girl's indignant expression. "I will get you some breakfast, then we can go back to the compound to talk."

"Can't we talk here?" Florence hadn't felt at ease in Marcel's home, remembering how she had been stared down by several of his friends? Employees?

"The walls have ears, Florence." Marcel retorts at once, not willing to hear any more objections, the last thing he wanted was for lurking witches to hear things they weren't supposed to.

• • •

"Alright, let's take stock of what I currently know." Marcel begins after a long period of silence. Neither he nor the girl knew exactly how to get their conversation started. Florence clearly wasn't comfortable in his presence and he was uncomfortable with the knowledge she possibly possessed about him and his former family.

"You came to visit New Orleans, your name is Florence, you clearly recognized that" Marcel points at the emblem that hung on the wall. "And you had a dream with my name in it. Correct?"

"Yes." Florence nods.

"Hmm, perhaps this is a little easier if you know a bit more about me as well." Marcel nudges the cup of bourbon he had fetched in Florence's direction. She looked like she could use some liquid courage.

Florence nods again before grabbing the cup. Her eyes dart between Marcel and the exit, which was strategically being blocked by two bored-looking men. She was reasonably certain coming here was a mistake.

Marcel follows Florence's gaze to the two vampires. He had ordered all the residents to come to work with a full belly, not wanting to risk the human getting harmed because any of his daywalkers were feeling peckish.

"My name is Marcel. I run the compound, I organize parties, and I am a vampire." The last bit was said casually, as if discussing a rather dull hobby. Marcel had wanted to see the girl's reaction, to see if his suspicions were correct, if not he could always compel the girl.

He watches bemusedly as the girl's mouth forms a little 'O' shape and her eyes widen in the slightest before a small smile makes its way to her face instead. Confused, he lifts an eyebrow, silently requesting a verbal reaction from Florence.

"It is you." Florence mumbles. The fact that she was seated across a vampire didn't bother her as much as it should, he hadn't harmed her so far, and it wasn't as if she could stop him if he tried to. An unexpected feeling of excitement floods through her, she had found someone from her dreams.

Florence's enthusiasm diminishes slightly when she realizes that the Mikaelsons don't know her at all, at least not this version. They wouldn't recognize her in this body and would probably not deem her worthy of a second glance, let alone enough time to explain her situation to them. But perhaps with Marcel at her side, to back her story, they would be willing to hear her out.

"Florence?" Marcel snaps his fingers in front of the girl's face, he had a suspicion it wouldn't be the last time he would have to snap the girl out of her thoughts. Her reaction was unusual and remarkably mild, Marcel was almost disappointed because of her lack of response.

"You're Marcellus, Niklaus's son. You enjoyed running around the gardens and playing hide-and-seek in the kitchens with the maids when you should have been attending to your piano lessons. I took care of you." Noticing her slip up, Florence ducks her head. Even if she was living in the girl's body during her dreams, she wasn't Charlotte.

"Charlotte?" Marcel mumbles, staring intently at the girl before him, as if hoping to recognize the woman that had cared for him with so much love in his youth. Her eyes. That bright, warm look was the only resemblance he could find between the two women. He wondered how he hadn't seen it before, looking into Florence's eyes he sees Charlotte's loving look.

A warm, nostalgic feeling takes over Marcel, and he leans back into the pillows, eyes still on Florence's. After losing his family that night in 1919, Marcel no longer experienced affection, unlike that of real family. Sure, he had loyal friends and followers, but it never came close enough to the real feeling.

Marcel swallows the lump of emotion when he thinks of his childhood, the one he had enjoyed after Niklaus rescued him.

"Why did you come to New Orleans?" Marcel asks carefully after processing this new bit of information. He wasn't stupid, he knew the girl wouldn't have come all this way for a boy she had dreamt of, a boy she believed to be dead. His gaze shifts back to the emblem again and his expression falls, it had to Mikaelson related.

"It was either this or England." Florence deadpans.