Broken Promises (An Elijah Mikaelson LS)

Dead Witches

Klaus was not very pleased with Sophie. He waited until the next day to abduct her and bring her back to the plantation home. Klaus pushed Sophie into a chair as he started pacing in front of the witch. Lorelei and Rebekah simply stood, watching Klaus pace. Rebekah looked interested, but Lorelei glanced at her nails. "We had a deal. You protect my unborn child, I dismantle Marcel's army, and whilst I've been busy fulfilling my part of the bargain, you allowed Hayley to be attacked and almost killed by a gaggle of lunatic witches," Klaus growled before he sat down, lounging on the colonial style couch across from Sophie's chair.

"I had nothing to do with it, I swear. Hayley and I are linked, remember?" Sophie said, leaning forward in her chair. She was insistent but not pleading. Lorelei admired that. "She dies, I die," Sophie finished, her gaze flickering between the three originals. "Then who were they?" Rebekah snapped. "They're a faction of extremists. Sabine stupidly told them about some vision she had about the baby," Sophie explained. "What kind of vision?" Lorelei asked calmly. "She has them all the time. They're totally open to interpretation. I'm guessing she's wrong on this one," Sophie explained, sitting forward a little more. "Well, how, may I asked, was this particular vision interpreted?" Klaus asked her, a hidden blade in his smooth voice. Sophie hesitated. "Pretty much that your baby would bring death to all witches," she explained.

"Ah, well, I grow fonder of this child by the second," Klaus said with a smirk as Rebekah sat beside her brother. "Sophie, look. I promised Elijah that I would protect the Mikaelson miracle baby whilst he tries to win your witch Davina's loyalty," Rebekah said, annoyance clear in her voice. "Why don't you tell us just how extreme this faction is?" Lorelei suggested as she moved to sit on the armrest of the couch. "Elijah's talking to Davina?" Sophie asked in shock. "Yeah, as we speak, I imagine," Rebekah said before leaning back on the plush couch cushions. Lorelei felt a twinge of nerves flutter in her belly. She still hadn't asked Rebekah if she told Elijah that she was here.

"I'm guessing she'll have plenty to say about that crowd," Sophie grumbled. "Do tell," Klaus said, leaning back against the cushions and resting his arm over the back of the couch. "I wasn't always an advocate for the witches," Sophie started. "My sister was devoted like our parents, and our upbringing was very strict which drove me nuts. The minute I turned 21, I left the Quarter to travel... and play. But I wanted to be a chef. So I came back to Rousseau's," Sophie said before continuing on to tell the Originals how her sister told her that the coven's elders had decided to move forward with something called the Harvest.

"What the bloody hell is the Harvest?" Rebekah snapped, glancing over at Lorelei for an explanation. She shrugged in reply. "It's a ritual our coven does every three centuries so that the bond to our ancestral magic is restored. We appease our ancestors, they keep our ancestral power flowing," Sophie explained. "And why haven't I heard of this?" Klaus asked, glancing over at Lorelei who sat opposite him on the couch. "Because the Harvest always seemed like a myth, a story passed down through generations like Noah's Ark or the Buddha walking on water, the kind some people take literally and some people don't," Sophie said, pausing to take a breath.

"They had the girls in our community preparing for months. Four would be chosen for the Harvest. They said that it was an honor, that they were special. I thought it was a myth," Sophie said, shaking her head, her tone bitter. "Was it?" Rebekah asked before Klaus' cell phone started ringing. Klaus pulled out the phone and answered it. "Marcel, bit early in the day for you, isn't it?" Klaus teased his old friend. "Rather you than me. All that responsibility seems like such a bore," Klaus said after a brief pause. Lorelei decided not to focus on the conversation. She let her mind wander, and of course, what her mind drifted to was her husband. She thought of how he might have changed in the last 500 years. Last she saw him, he had long brown locks. Perhaps he had cut it or even dyed it.