White Blood | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter Twelve

1872 — Annecy, France

   Thirty-five kilometres from Geneva in the Upper Savoy region of Eastern France was the picturesque town of Annecy. Its eleven thousand residents called it The Pearl of France, describing its location between lake and mountains. There were big, rickety wooden houses and shops painted in every colour in the world. It reminded Eleanor Fraser of the town she was born and raised in, it reminded her of Hastings. The lake was much like a beach, with the numerous people that took a stroll underneath the warm summer sun. The city was old, filled with bright and overflowing flowers that made Eleanor want to paint just because of the colours. Yes, the colours. A beautiful spectrum of every shade and hue that she had imagine and more: reds, blues, yellows, greens. They all lined the canals. 

   The streets were made of a red stone that shined whenever the sun was above it. It made the streets look as if they were covered in rubies; Eleanor thought it looked more like blood. Well, it was what she thought about the most. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she wanted nothing more but to stand from bed and sink her teeth into someone's neck and drink them dry. There were other times where she did so. The bellboy had several bites around his body, and they were all from her being hungry. She had compelled him to not be afraid of her, to think that he was in love with her. It was the only reason why he took great care of himself, never weak.

   The Originals, as well as Eleanor, stayed in a château in the Haute-Savoie general council. The Château d'Annecy was a castle that served as residence to the Counts of Geneva until the 17th Century. It was abandoned then, or so they thought, of course. The castle was taken over by a vampire named Armand who enjoyed making money out of other vampires and compelled victims. Inside the walls, it was lively and dark at the same time. Outside, it appeared as if it were crumbling.

   Armand gave them the biggest room in the castle, The Queen's Tower. No, he gave that room to Eleanor and Klaus. Elijah insisted in getting another room, a much smaller one and further away from the pair. He was tired of hearing the pair have their nightly charades, tired of hearing Eleanor want nothing more but blood. He had taught her that blood wasn't everything, but the girl was more interested in what Klaus taught her than anything else.

   On one of their days in Annecy, Eleanor had pulled the two vampires to join her out onto the fields, right beneath the mountains. She wore a simple white dress, one that allowed her to move freely and without care. And that was exactly what she did. She ran at human pace, her arms spread as she danced in the gentle fields of overflowing colourful flowers. It came to the point where she stopped and laughed, turning to look at Elijah and Klaus.

   "Come on, then!" she yelled at them. "Hurry up!"

   "You told us to come at human pace," Elijah said, gently smiling.

   "I don't remember being so slow," she teased. "Come on, I don't believe that you two could have been so slow when you were humans! You were warriors, for God's sake!"

   They had told her their story, about how they came to be. It was Elijah that revealed the most. He told her about their family, about how their father and mother were the ones that turned them into what they are. They said nothing more, except that they found it easier to keep a low profile in the places they went to.

   "Were," Elijah repeated. "In the past, Eleanor. It has been around 800 years since we have fought with swords."

   "Swords!" she breathed, almost in exasperation. "I'd love to see a good sword fight."

   "Those don't exist anymore, love," Klaus chuckled, shaking his head. "In the world of today, rifles and guns are more useful."

   "What happened to knights?" Eleanor asked, holding on to her skirt as she dipped her feet in the water of a creek. She glanced back at the brothers. "Daring sword fights, a prince in disguise, life with a little danger."