𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒚 | Elijah Mikaelson [1]

XLIV

Morrigan Brooks

Flashback to 1450

I was tense. I was rarely tense these days, but today, that was all I felt.

I had been running with the Mikaelson's for almost a decade, but this was the first time I was ever attending a formal ball.

They had hosted as many as they had been invited to, but I always avoided them, opting to be reduced to the Mikaelson's on-call witch and not be well known as they themselves are.

I doubt anyone really knows what I look like, which I was perfectly fine with. In fact, I was more than fine with it. I preferred the air of anonymity around me since that way, no one would, or could, bother me.

Paris was beautiful, and the Mikaelsons, as usual, lived a life of luxury and excess, meaning I did too.

"Are you nervous at all?" Rebekah says as she walks into my room. I had noticed how she glided, almost as if her feet didn't even touch the ground.

Not that I was taking notes.

"Uh, not really," I say, my voice climbing in pitch, indicating my mistruth.

"Stay by my side and I promise you will be the belle of the ball," she says and I give her a look.

"Unlikely, but I appreciate the vote of confidence."

"Are you really that nervous?" She says, creasing her eyebrows as she walks over and takes my hair in her hands and starts to put it up in a nice updo.

"Wouldn't you be?" I say truthfully. "Can you think back to your first ball? Any pointers?"

"Don't look up," she says with a small laugh, but when I turn my head to figure out what on earth she is talking about, she just shakes her head, muttering something about an inside joke. "Mor, we're hosting, so you have nothing to worry about."

"I know you say that, but I genuinely cannot stop thinking about tripping on my dress, or spilling my drink on someone."

"You can borrow my brother's pants if you don't want to trip," she jokes and I roll my eyes. "And did you forget you are a witch? Just magic something up."

"Magic what up, exactly?" I ask rhetorically. "An unspillable drink?"

"You're a smart girl, Mor, I'm sure you can think of something." Rebekah keeps playing with my hair for a minute. "What is it you're really afraid of?" She asks and I have to consciously make the decision to not bite the insides of my cheeks.

"What if I make a complete fool of myself and mess up any social standing we have?"

"Is that it? You're worried about making a fool of yourself?" She asks incredulously but I nod slowly. "Ok, listen to me, Mor, I know this will sound slightly conceited, but everyone, and I mean everyone, is trying to get on our good side from whatever rumour they have heard, so even if you do make a fool of yourself, no one will think twice about it because you are on our good side."

"Are you sure?" I ask and she nods earnestly.

"Trust me. I have seen it happen time and time again."

"You're saying you had a witch on-demand before me?" I say with mock shock but she just rolls her eyes.

"You're my favourite," she says.

"Bet you say that to all the witches," I mutter and she whips her head toward me.

"I heard that."

"I'm sure you did," I mutter, still in a low tone.