The Sorceress | Klaus Mikaelson

S I X

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After the events of the weekend, despite how badly the dinner party had turned out, Elijah remained dead due to a crafty plan that Arabella could care less about. An Original Vampire was no longer a threat to her family, and that's what matters. Though, she's still pissed at Damon for not telling her the plan. But none of that matters now, because she's currently doing something she loved.

If there was one thing Arabella treasures, it is sleep. Being the daughter of a maid, she would normally have to get up bright and early to help her mother and sisters with the chores. It was a pain in her ass for a full sixteen years.

Now, she didn't sleep very often, to be honest. All nighters were becoming more and more common for her. However, the few nights she decided to get a full rest, she cherished.

Which is why, as Stefan strides into her bedroom and pulls her curtains back, releasing a flood of harsh sunlight, Arabella wants nothing more than to throw him out of said window.

"No!" She screams, chucking a pillow at him and hiding under her covers. "Go away, Stefan."

"You're in Mystic Falls, now," Stefan smiles, walking over to her closet. "And Damon and I have a reputation to uphold. I'm a high schooler, and since you're my younger sister, so are you now."

"Hell no."

"You don't have a choice."

"I don't care. Leave me alone before I turn you into one of the squirrels you eat for breakfast."

"Ha ha," Stefan rolls his eyes, tossing some clothes at his sister. She catches them with magic, pulling the sheets off her head and chucking them right back at Stefan. "Besides. You never actually did go to high school. Consider this a learning experience."

"I'm more qualified than any of the teachers there," Arabella grumbles, but climbs out of bed nonetheless. She knows Stefan's words hold truth to them. If she's to stay in Mystic Falls, then she has to abide by the rules.

"So, you remember your story for being here?" Stefan asks, plopping down in a plush chair as Arabella rubs the sleep from her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sixteen, youngest Salvatore, came back from boarding school in Europe," She yawns, rolling her eyes. "Doesn't exactly make sense to me, though. I am technically older than you."

"Just because you got turned when you were eighteen doesn't make you older than me."

"Does too."

"Whatever. If it makes you feel any better, we can say you skipped a grade ahead," Stefan shrugs. "It's better like that, anyways. That way if we need to group, we'll have similar schedules."

"God, Stef, this is all so childish to me," Arabella groans, rubbing her face and collapsing back into bed. "High school is a corrupt system where sleep deprived children are put in a chair for seven hours straight, getting fed mind numbing information, only to go home and repeat the process the next day. Which is why I never went and just compelled myself a diploma. And you want me to abide by society's norms when it's obviously so contaminated?"

"You're so dramatic," Stefan rolls his eyes, standing up. "Get dressed! We're leaving soon."

Arabella lets out one last loud groan of annoyance, but gets up nonetheless and snatches the clothes that Stefan had picked out. Fifteen minutes later, she's dressed in the faded ripped jeans, black tank top, and a long, yellow plaid trench coat. After at least five attempts, she finally manages to strangle her curls into an 'effortless' looking bun, and decides she's content with the look. After swiping on some makeup, grabbing a pair of sunglasses, and shoving on some short black boots, Arabella is ready to play high schooler.