Stella was known for making mistakes. Detrimental mistakes. Falling for him might just be the biggest one she ever made.
Set in the 1800s, New Orleans.
Based on Flashbacks from the Originals with additional content.
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Under the light of a hot New Orleans sun, Stella Mendacium sat plotting the Governor's death. She bided her time hidden amongst bushes and flowers, watching the doors to the Governor's plantation house through narrowed eyes. Needless to say, Stella was no fan of the cruel, vindictive Governor. She'd never had blood on her hands before. If it meant killing him, she'd happily change that.
In her lap, a journal lay idly. Her Father had given it to her in the hopes that she'd record her life, much like the rest of her family did. Instead, mindless doodles and spells had been scribbled. Most of which were plans intended to result in the Governor's demise.
The Governor had been extra horrible recently. It didn't matter how much Stella tried to reason with him, nor how much her Father half-heartedly reasoned with him, the man would not change.
Some people were born to be cruel and dastardly.
Sick of waiting around, Stella rose to a stand and dusted off the grass from her dress. Tucking her journal beneath her arm, she readied to storm the place.
A voice stilled her before she could.
"I thought I'd find you out here."
Stella swivelled around hastily, her skirts flying out around her. She cast her brown eyes towards her sister, an older replica of herself. "What are you doing Mabel?"
"Baby sitting you, of course. You slipped away from your Governess. I wanted to know what you were up to." Mabel sighed dramatically, inspecting her nails as if she didn't have time to be dealing with her little nuisance of a sister. "I should've known you'd come straight here. So what are you up to?"
Stella kicked her boot against the grass, feigning confusion. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't lie to me Stella," Mabel scolded. "I can see right through you. You're like the younger, less evil version of me."
"If you must know, I'm here to see Emil."
The lie slipped from her lip like a lullaby. It wasn't the first time she'd told it that morning. When she'd first set out to leave her home, one of the footmen had insisted upon walking with her to protect her. After all, she was a pretty girl and some 'lesser men' could be incredibly vile. She'd shut him down, coming up with the same excuse she'd told Mabel. And yet, Emil was the least of her concerns.
"I don't believe you."
Mabel's dark eyes narrowed, scanning her little sister's face for a reaction of any sort. A blush? A twitch maybe? Nothing. Over the last two years, Stella had grown increasingly skilled at lying.
"I don't care."
"Do you know why I don't believe you?" Mabel continued testily, getting a better grip on her parasol. "Because Emil's a boy, no less the son of the Governor."
