Uneven Ground (4/? - Klaus/Bonnie)
Title: Uneven Ground
Chapter: Four - The Absence of Manners
Word Count: 3229
Rating: PG 13 - references to violence (this is not fluff and rainbows people)
Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson, Bonnie Bennett
Disclaimer: Vampire Diaries belongs to L.J Smith and the people who brought it to TV
Summary: Sometimes a glass of water is a metaphor for the bigger picture
Author's Note: So there are two ways you can look at this - it's either a week late, or a day early. Sorry for the longer wait. Anyone who follows me on tumblr knows that 3.20 was a huge kick to my muse (Alaric Saltzman is a favorite of mine) but thankfully I have bounced back. I am actually grateful that the season finale is this week because I am a bit tired of the roller coaster stuff this show feels the need to do. I can't wait to write in peace! So you're getting this a day early this time around and then back to our regular Monday posts! Thank you for your continued support!
Klaus drags her to that godforsaken room and tosses her unceremoniously in that godforsaken chair.
She immediately straightens herself, her eyes flickering from him to the remnants of her earlier handiwork. Most of the candles have burned themselves out but a lone one is still flickering proudly.
She can see the blood too.
No one has touched the blood.
Five neat little piles coagulating at room temperature.
He is pacing in front of her, barely regarding the fact that she is in the room with him. She knows he is still trying to pull back the emotions that consumed him moments ago. Having just gone through the process herself, she knows it is not easy.
She feels as if she is in a holding pattern - waiting until Klaus comes at her with some caustic remark, waiting for him to sneer and be smug about this latest development, waiting for the Klaus she knows to make an appearance.
She has precious few options.
She can run but she won’t get but two feet before he is on her. She can use magic, but it is a temporary solution that will leave her drained (and she isn’t even taking into account that her own psyche is fragile and her ability to wield what powers she has is compromised at the moment).
She can only wait - and then hope that cooler heads will prevail.
As she sees it, there is little to gain by holding her here and even less by killing her. The mighty Klaus, with his carefully thought out game plans, has made a mistake. If he had been thinking straight, he would have left her there, curled up beside the car (or he would have thrown her off the property). He would have never even considered forcing her back to this very spot.
For what purpose does it serve?
She has done him the ultimate favor - she has spared from the same fate that has befallen his brother. She has little more to offer him at this point (well, she knows there are some things she can offer him - including an outlet for his current frustrations but she cannot let herself truly entertain that because she is so close to just dissolving right back to where she was ten minutes ago).
Finally he seemingly snaps back to the now. He stops, almost mid stride and looks down at her. She has her gaze pinned to the tiny flickering flame of the candle. For a moment they stay as they are, almost frozen and then he is kneeling down in front of her, demanding her attention.
She looks him in his eyes, leans forward a little even as his hands move to the arms of the chair effectively pinning her in. It is hard to be calm - she realizes she can’t, not tonight, not yet. So she has to fake it and hope that he doesn’t see right through her. Given his mood, he will poke at her wounds until she is screaming on the floor. “I can walk out the door,” she tells him with only the slightest hitch in her breath. “I can walk out the door and never come back.”
It scares her when he smiles.
Enough so that she cannot stop herself from shrinking back into the chair. He follows, maintaining the same distance between them that she has set a moment earlier.
“You must be thirsty. I understand that when the human body undergoes an emotional trauma it is left drained. I will see to it that you are given something before I turn in for the night.” He says it with such an air of finality that she realizes he has seen through her, he is picking at her fragility.
There hasn’t been enough time to recover - she can’t be as strong as she needs to be right now.
“You can’t serious…” She rails against him now, with her voice - and her hands. They push on his shoulders, trying to get his smug face out of her line of vision. He doesn’t budge so she rears back and brings a fist crashing against his cheek.
She needs to remember that she is not the only one hanging on by a thread.
He reacts with expert precision, reaching out to wrap his hand around her wrist. Tightly. Perhaps a little too tightly. He rights himself, pulling her to her feet. She stumbles into him and he is quick to band arm around the small of her back to keep her there. She is seething, her chest rising and falling against his at a rapid rate. She can feel her powers swimming under her skin, begging to be released. She has enough logic left in her to know that if she chooses to use it against him she will pay dearly for it.
But still, it has to be expelled before it eats away at her remaining logic.
She closes her eyes and lets it go, lets it take the easiest form she knows. The candles flare to life, the fire in the hearth climbs significantly higher casting an orange hue over the pair before it dies down suddenly. She feels less like a ticking time bomb now but she knows there is the potential for it to build again, at a faster rate, to a higher degree if he insists on playing this game.
He raises an eyebrow. “And you needed a match?”
Bonnie bristles against him but he holds tight, and has the audacity to look amused by all this.
By his mistake.
“You can’t keep me here!” There is a shrillness to her voice that she hasn’t meant to put there (in truth she hasn’t meant to do so much on this night but it is not as if she can pretend she has complete control over her actions at the moment).
He furrows a brow at her outburst and then finally releases her. He steps back, giving her the illusion that she is free from his grasp but she sees right through it.
“I can,” he states simply. “I am.”
The amount of willpower it takes not to scream at his simple acknowledgement of his new path is shockingly high.
She should have realized.
After all she knows.
Klaus is not one to admit his mistakes.
X
She spends the night in that room.
At first she stays on the chair, perhaps embracing the familiar. Klaus has left her moments after he made it clear that she is not going anywhere. True to his word, a glass of water appears in the hands of that poor girl who is becoming a face she is sure she will never forget.
On principle, she does not drink it - even though she is aching for it.
She is not going to make herself comfortable here.
Still, it is hard to fight exhaustion, especially when her body as all but drained itself.
She shifts on the chair.
Tucks her legs underneath herself.
Lays her head on the arm.
Curls into a ball.
Nothing really works.
Finally, she concedes a little ground to him, stands and walks as far as the sofa. She all but collapses on it, turning on her side to watch the dying fire. She should be doing something. She should be looking for a way out.
She should…
…drink the goddamn water.
But she does none of those things.
Instead she sleeps.
X
It’s early yet when her eyes open. The grey light of dawn is just starting to filter into the room as she sits up, ever mindful of just where she is. There is no moment of heart stopping confusion. She wagers even as she slept, her brain was always aware of what was going on.
Her feet hit the ground and she sees it.
The water - still there taunting her.
Her mouth is dry; there is a dull throb in her head that indicates the onset of dehydration. But still she doesn’t touch it - she will damn well have a glass of water when she gets home.
Bonnie is whisper quiet as she picks her way out of the room. The rest of the house clearly has the same idea as her because she can’t hear a thing no matter how hard she tries. She strains to pick up any sign of life (but then again, most of the inhabitants of this house are probably not technically living now are they?).
She has a goal in mind. If she can, she is going to walk right out the front door.
And then she will run.
Up until now, she has all but pressed herself against walls, tried to remain hidden in shadows. But now, now, she is nearing the foyer where she will be in one big open space. Nowhere to hide - nowhere to go.
But out.
She needs to get out.
Bonnie takes a deep breath, and steps onto intricate marble, her eyes immediately darting around the expansive room. Where is...anyone? Bonnie does not like that she has not even come across one of Klaus’ little playthings. It sets her on edge, makes her hyper aware. She needs to keep herself grounded.
Keep focused on her goal.
She moves with speed toward the front door, has her hand around the knob when she hears a voice.
“Come now, Bonnie, did you really think that it would be that easy?”
She turns and sees Rebekah standing on the bottom step, dressed for the day in pastel colors. The state of her hair and makeup tells Bonnie that the blonde Original has been up for a while now - and has tracked her from the moment she sat up on the couch.
Rebekah probably has had a good laugh as she put on mascara.
“No,” Bonnie says truthfully, as her hand falls away. But she had to try. Surely Rebekah can understand that.
“You’re a smart little thing,” Rebekah drawls as she finally takes the last step. She has her fingers still curled on the banister and she looks every bit as lethal as a coiled snake. Bonnie wonders how her fellow classmates at school don’t see it. “So be a good girl and go back to your room.”
Her room?
There is no way she is staying in this place long enough to make that her room. Without a thought given to consequence, Bonnie shakes her head.
Rebekah groans and then with a flash, she is front of Bonnie, her perfectly made up face curled into a hiss. Bonnie tries to sidestep the inevitable but finds herself pinned to the door anyway. Automatically, her hands come up to curl around Rebekah’s arm.
“Re-bekah!”
Bonnie’s eyes tear from her immediate threat on reflex, moving to regard the more sinister one standing at the top of the stairway. Like her, Klaus still wears same clothes from the night before. He places a foot on the first step, his brows furrowed together. “Is that any way to treat my guest?”
This is the second time that Klaus has placed ownership on her and Bonnie is not sure that she likes it - even if it means that it will free her from the choking grasp of his demented sister.
“Your guest was trying to leave without at least thanking you first,” Rebekah points out with a shrug. She then releases her grip on Bonnie’s throat and steps to the side. “You know how I feel about manners.”
“I do - so forgive me when I point out that choking someone is not the politest way to achieve results,” Klaus says as he continues his path down the stairs. Bonnie is pulling in air now, trying to right her senses. She is keenly aware that the two siblings are playing with one another and she doesn’t like the thought of being the toy in the middle.
He takes his time to reach them, first letting his eyes linger on her (she forces herself to maintain eye contact) before glancing at his sister. “Run along now, Rebekah. We wouldn’t want you tardy for school.”
Rebekah makes a face but seemingly knows when she has no more ground to stand on. She smiles now, it twisting her face into something perhaps serene but to Bonnie it is ominous. “Don’t worry, Bonnie dear, I’ll be sure to get your homework.”
With that, Rebekah reaches past her, opens the door so Bonnie gets that brief glimpse of freedom and then leaves her to him. Bonnie is slow to raise her eyes from the door to him. He hasn’t moved from where he had come to stop in the foyer and he is still watching her intently. She waits, wondering just what he will say, just what he will do, in light of her ill-conceived exit strategy.
He folds his hands behind his back, tilting his head to the side. “You look famished, love.”
Apparently he will do breakfast.
X
It is a normal breakfast (well a normal breakfast for someone of his social standing she supposes).
He takes a seat at the head the table and she claims the one to his left. There has been preparation for this event - it has been not a spur of the moment decision. Tableware is already laid out. There is a selection of jams and jellies to go with the bread piled high on a plate in the middle. In front of him sits a tall glass of orange juice.
In front of her sits a very familiar glass of water.
She does not to react to it, even though inwardly she is fuming at what the glass has come to symbolize. She should have expected it (actually if she really thought about it - she had been expecting their breakfast to run more along the lines of her being forced to watch him feed off some glazed over helpless person - the fact that he is just taunting her with a glass of water seems almost civilized).
He reaches for a piece of toast and she watches him as he begins to slather jam in a thick layer. She must have an incredulous look on her face, like she is watching a side show at a carnival, for he pauses with the knife in mid stroke. “I am beginning to believe my sister was correct - and that your manners leave something to be desired.”
Bonnie furrows her brows and this time does not even attempt to hold her tongue. She is tired, she is hungry, she is thirsty. “Are we seriously going to discuss manners when you are holding me prisoner?”
He scoffs immediately and she knows he had been waiting on this answer. “Bonnie, love, a little civility can be found in all situations if you only take the time to try. I know this is not ideal, but it is what it is. The sooner you embrace it - the easier things shall be.”
“Embrace it?!” She explodes, shooting out of the chair at a such a rapid pace even the docile girl standing ramrod straight flinches. “You threatened people I care about, used me for my magic, and are now forcing me to stay here. Tell me, Klaus...” His name is spit out like the poison it is. “...just what is it I am supposed to embrace!”
She watches him just as closely as he watches her, trying to pinpoint any emotional reactions. There is a slight clench of his jaw and for a moment she thinks she sees something in his eyes. But then it is gone (and she questions if it was ever really there). He calmly sets the toast on his plate and looks up at her. “I could have killed you,” he begins. “Last night, after you finished the spell. I could have drained you dry and left you on the floor of that room for someone to clean up at their earliest convenience. Or worse - I could have strung you up like Damon Salvatore, bled you out slowly, made a game of it...”
Bonnie opens her mouth to shoot back but he holds a hand up in such a manner that she falls silent instead.
“Outside, that’s where it would have been most likely to happen. I wasn’t in control. I could have ripped you to shreds, Bonnie. And not even realized it until it was far too late.” He has his elbows on the table (and he is cursing her for her manners), his fingers laced together and his head propped on them. “If you think of it - you took a chance choosing that particular location to have your little tantrum...” That’s low and he knows it. “...so really you should not be surprised that you find yourself here. Embrace the fact that you are alive, love, because it so easily could have been the other way around.”
Bonnie can’t find the counter argument to that at the moment. She knows it is there, festering inside of her but she can’t pull it out. Her wits have been dulled by lack of food and water making it impossible to keep up with him. She hates that. She hates that he has silenced her so effectively. She needs to be able to fight until the bitter end but if she can’t even make it out of round one she is going to be down for the count far too soon.
She realizes now that he is right. She should embrace her situation. She should take what he has to offer because she is going to need it if she is ever going to get out of here intact. She doesn’t have to fight him at every corner to prove that she is going to win. What was it that Alaric Saltzman had talked about when studying conflict (an ever present theme it seemed) - ah yes...
You can concede a battle, and still win the war - sometimes it is necessary for the enemy to think they have won, so you can catch them off guard when the time comes.
With that in mind, she retakes her seat, and reaches for a slice of bread. She chooses the jelly, spreads it lightly and is eyeing the glass of water. Her mouth is so dry it seemingly takes forever just to swallow one bite.
Klaus has taken to glancing at her, sipping his orange juice, fiddling with his fork (he really doesn’t realize how sorely his own manners are lacking does he?). Finally she can tell he can take it no longer. He leans forward, and she stops her progress. She looks at him expectantly.
“Surely, you are thirsty,” Klaus reasons.
She realizes he has put as much stock into a simple glass of water as she has. Given his nature, it doesn’t surprise her. However, it does surprise her that he has revealed it. He has given just a little room for her to play.
Bonnie reaches for the glass, only to set it aside. It is hard to do - there is condensation built on the outside and it is cool to the touch. She can only imagine what the water would feel like sliding down her throat.
“I prefer milk in the morning.”
She figures that is how it is for them - concede one battle, declare another.
Chapter: Four - The Absence of Manners
Word Count: 3229
Rating: PG 13 - references to violence (this is not fluff and rainbows people)
Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson, Bonnie Bennett
Disclaimer: Vampire Diaries belongs to L.J Smith and the people who brought it to TV
Summary: Sometimes a glass of water is a metaphor for the bigger picture
Author's Note: So there are two ways you can look at this - it's either a week late, or a day early. Sorry for the longer wait. Anyone who follows me on tumblr knows that 3.20 was a huge kick to my muse (Alaric Saltzman is a favorite of mine) but thankfully I have bounced back. I am actually grateful that the season finale is this week because I am a bit tired of the roller coaster stuff this show feels the need to do. I can't wait to write in peace! So you're getting this a day early this time around and then back to our regular Monday posts! Thank you for your continued support!
Klaus drags her to that godforsaken room and tosses her unceremoniously in that godforsaken chair.
She immediately straightens herself, her eyes flickering from him to the remnants of her earlier handiwork. Most of the candles have burned themselves out but a lone one is still flickering proudly.
She can see the blood too.
No one has touched the blood.
Five neat little piles coagulating at room temperature.
He is pacing in front of her, barely regarding the fact that she is in the room with him. She knows he is still trying to pull back the emotions that consumed him moments ago. Having just gone through the process herself, she knows it is not easy.
She feels as if she is in a holding pattern - waiting until Klaus comes at her with some caustic remark, waiting for him to sneer and be smug about this latest development, waiting for the Klaus she knows to make an appearance.
She has precious few options.
She can run but she won’t get but two feet before he is on her. She can use magic, but it is a temporary solution that will leave her drained (and she isn’t even taking into account that her own psyche is fragile and her ability to wield what powers she has is compromised at the moment).
She can only wait - and then hope that cooler heads will prevail.
As she sees it, there is little to gain by holding her here and even less by killing her. The mighty Klaus, with his carefully thought out game plans, has made a mistake. If he had been thinking straight, he would have left her there, curled up beside the car (or he would have thrown her off the property). He would have never even considered forcing her back to this very spot.
For what purpose does it serve?
She has done him the ultimate favor - she has spared from the same fate that has befallen his brother. She has little more to offer him at this point (well, she knows there are some things she can offer him - including an outlet for his current frustrations but she cannot let herself truly entertain that because she is so close to just dissolving right back to where she was ten minutes ago).
Finally he seemingly snaps back to the now. He stops, almost mid stride and looks down at her. She has her gaze pinned to the tiny flickering flame of the candle. For a moment they stay as they are, almost frozen and then he is kneeling down in front of her, demanding her attention.
She looks him in his eyes, leans forward a little even as his hands move to the arms of the chair effectively pinning her in. It is hard to be calm - she realizes she can’t, not tonight, not yet. So she has to fake it and hope that he doesn’t see right through her. Given his mood, he will poke at her wounds until she is screaming on the floor. “I can walk out the door,” she tells him with only the slightest hitch in her breath. “I can walk out the door and never come back.”
It scares her when he smiles.
Enough so that she cannot stop herself from shrinking back into the chair. He follows, maintaining the same distance between them that she has set a moment earlier.
“You must be thirsty. I understand that when the human body undergoes an emotional trauma it is left drained. I will see to it that you are given something before I turn in for the night.” He says it with such an air of finality that she realizes he has seen through her, he is picking at her fragility.
There hasn’t been enough time to recover - she can’t be as strong as she needs to be right now.
“You can’t serious…” She rails against him now, with her voice - and her hands. They push on his shoulders, trying to get his smug face out of her line of vision. He doesn’t budge so she rears back and brings a fist crashing against his cheek.
She needs to remember that she is not the only one hanging on by a thread.
He reacts with expert precision, reaching out to wrap his hand around her wrist. Tightly. Perhaps a little too tightly. He rights himself, pulling her to her feet. She stumbles into him and he is quick to band arm around the small of her back to keep her there. She is seething, her chest rising and falling against his at a rapid rate. She can feel her powers swimming under her skin, begging to be released. She has enough logic left in her to know that if she chooses to use it against him she will pay dearly for it.
But still, it has to be expelled before it eats away at her remaining logic.
She closes her eyes and lets it go, lets it take the easiest form she knows. The candles flare to life, the fire in the hearth climbs significantly higher casting an orange hue over the pair before it dies down suddenly. She feels less like a ticking time bomb now but she knows there is the potential for it to build again, at a faster rate, to a higher degree if he insists on playing this game.
He raises an eyebrow. “And you needed a match?”
Bonnie bristles against him but he holds tight, and has the audacity to look amused by all this.
By his mistake.
“You can’t keep me here!” There is a shrillness to her voice that she hasn’t meant to put there (in truth she hasn’t meant to do so much on this night but it is not as if she can pretend she has complete control over her actions at the moment).
He furrows a brow at her outburst and then finally releases her. He steps back, giving her the illusion that she is free from his grasp but she sees right through it.
“I can,” he states simply. “I am.”
The amount of willpower it takes not to scream at his simple acknowledgement of his new path is shockingly high.
She should have realized.
After all she knows.
Klaus is not one to admit his mistakes.
X
She spends the night in that room.
At first she stays on the chair, perhaps embracing the familiar. Klaus has left her moments after he made it clear that she is not going anywhere. True to his word, a glass of water appears in the hands of that poor girl who is becoming a face she is sure she will never forget.
On principle, she does not drink it - even though she is aching for it.
She is not going to make herself comfortable here.
Still, it is hard to fight exhaustion, especially when her body as all but drained itself.
She shifts on the chair.
Tucks her legs underneath herself.
Lays her head on the arm.
Curls into a ball.
Nothing really works.
Finally, she concedes a little ground to him, stands and walks as far as the sofa. She all but collapses on it, turning on her side to watch the dying fire. She should be doing something. She should be looking for a way out.
She should…
…drink the goddamn water.
But she does none of those things.
Instead she sleeps.
X
It’s early yet when her eyes open. The grey light of dawn is just starting to filter into the room as she sits up, ever mindful of just where she is. There is no moment of heart stopping confusion. She wagers even as she slept, her brain was always aware of what was going on.
Her feet hit the ground and she sees it.
The water - still there taunting her.
Her mouth is dry; there is a dull throb in her head that indicates the onset of dehydration. But still she doesn’t touch it - she will damn well have a glass of water when she gets home.
Bonnie is whisper quiet as she picks her way out of the room. The rest of the house clearly has the same idea as her because she can’t hear a thing no matter how hard she tries. She strains to pick up any sign of life (but then again, most of the inhabitants of this house are probably not technically living now are they?).
She has a goal in mind. If she can, she is going to walk right out the front door.
And then she will run.
Up until now, she has all but pressed herself against walls, tried to remain hidden in shadows. But now, now, she is nearing the foyer where she will be in one big open space. Nowhere to hide - nowhere to go.
But out.
She needs to get out.
Bonnie takes a deep breath, and steps onto intricate marble, her eyes immediately darting around the expansive room. Where is...anyone? Bonnie does not like that she has not even come across one of Klaus’ little playthings. It sets her on edge, makes her hyper aware. She needs to keep herself grounded.
Keep focused on her goal.
She moves with speed toward the front door, has her hand around the knob when she hears a voice.
“Come now, Bonnie, did you really think that it would be that easy?”
She turns and sees Rebekah standing on the bottom step, dressed for the day in pastel colors. The state of her hair and makeup tells Bonnie that the blonde Original has been up for a while now - and has tracked her from the moment she sat up on the couch.
Rebekah probably has had a good laugh as she put on mascara.
“No,” Bonnie says truthfully, as her hand falls away. But she had to try. Surely Rebekah can understand that.
“You’re a smart little thing,” Rebekah drawls as she finally takes the last step. She has her fingers still curled on the banister and she looks every bit as lethal as a coiled snake. Bonnie wonders how her fellow classmates at school don’t see it. “So be a good girl and go back to your room.”
Her room?
There is no way she is staying in this place long enough to make that her room. Without a thought given to consequence, Bonnie shakes her head.
Rebekah groans and then with a flash, she is front of Bonnie, her perfectly made up face curled into a hiss. Bonnie tries to sidestep the inevitable but finds herself pinned to the door anyway. Automatically, her hands come up to curl around Rebekah’s arm.
“Re-bekah!”
Bonnie’s eyes tear from her immediate threat on reflex, moving to regard the more sinister one standing at the top of the stairway. Like her, Klaus still wears same clothes from the night before. He places a foot on the first step, his brows furrowed together. “Is that any way to treat my guest?”
This is the second time that Klaus has placed ownership on her and Bonnie is not sure that she likes it - even if it means that it will free her from the choking grasp of his demented sister.
“Your guest was trying to leave without at least thanking you first,” Rebekah points out with a shrug. She then releases her grip on Bonnie’s throat and steps to the side. “You know how I feel about manners.”
“I do - so forgive me when I point out that choking someone is not the politest way to achieve results,” Klaus says as he continues his path down the stairs. Bonnie is pulling in air now, trying to right her senses. She is keenly aware that the two siblings are playing with one another and she doesn’t like the thought of being the toy in the middle.
He takes his time to reach them, first letting his eyes linger on her (she forces herself to maintain eye contact) before glancing at his sister. “Run along now, Rebekah. We wouldn’t want you tardy for school.”
Rebekah makes a face but seemingly knows when she has no more ground to stand on. She smiles now, it twisting her face into something perhaps serene but to Bonnie it is ominous. “Don’t worry, Bonnie dear, I’ll be sure to get your homework.”
With that, Rebekah reaches past her, opens the door so Bonnie gets that brief glimpse of freedom and then leaves her to him. Bonnie is slow to raise her eyes from the door to him. He hasn’t moved from where he had come to stop in the foyer and he is still watching her intently. She waits, wondering just what he will say, just what he will do, in light of her ill-conceived exit strategy.
He folds his hands behind his back, tilting his head to the side. “You look famished, love.”
Apparently he will do breakfast.
X
It is a normal breakfast (well a normal breakfast for someone of his social standing she supposes).
He takes a seat at the head the table and she claims the one to his left. There has been preparation for this event - it has been not a spur of the moment decision. Tableware is already laid out. There is a selection of jams and jellies to go with the bread piled high on a plate in the middle. In front of him sits a tall glass of orange juice.
In front of her sits a very familiar glass of water.
She does not to react to it, even though inwardly she is fuming at what the glass has come to symbolize. She should have expected it (actually if she really thought about it - she had been expecting their breakfast to run more along the lines of her being forced to watch him feed off some glazed over helpless person - the fact that he is just taunting her with a glass of water seems almost civilized).
He reaches for a piece of toast and she watches him as he begins to slather jam in a thick layer. She must have an incredulous look on her face, like she is watching a side show at a carnival, for he pauses with the knife in mid stroke. “I am beginning to believe my sister was correct - and that your manners leave something to be desired.”
Bonnie furrows her brows and this time does not even attempt to hold her tongue. She is tired, she is hungry, she is thirsty. “Are we seriously going to discuss manners when you are holding me prisoner?”
He scoffs immediately and she knows he had been waiting on this answer. “Bonnie, love, a little civility can be found in all situations if you only take the time to try. I know this is not ideal, but it is what it is. The sooner you embrace it - the easier things shall be.”
“Embrace it?!” She explodes, shooting out of the chair at a such a rapid pace even the docile girl standing ramrod straight flinches. “You threatened people I care about, used me for my magic, and are now forcing me to stay here. Tell me, Klaus...” His name is spit out like the poison it is. “...just what is it I am supposed to embrace!”
She watches him just as closely as he watches her, trying to pinpoint any emotional reactions. There is a slight clench of his jaw and for a moment she thinks she sees something in his eyes. But then it is gone (and she questions if it was ever really there). He calmly sets the toast on his plate and looks up at her. “I could have killed you,” he begins. “Last night, after you finished the spell. I could have drained you dry and left you on the floor of that room for someone to clean up at their earliest convenience. Or worse - I could have strung you up like Damon Salvatore, bled you out slowly, made a game of it...”
Bonnie opens her mouth to shoot back but he holds a hand up in such a manner that she falls silent instead.
“Outside, that’s where it would have been most likely to happen. I wasn’t in control. I could have ripped you to shreds, Bonnie. And not even realized it until it was far too late.” He has his elbows on the table (and he is cursing her for her manners), his fingers laced together and his head propped on them. “If you think of it - you took a chance choosing that particular location to have your little tantrum...” That’s low and he knows it. “...so really you should not be surprised that you find yourself here. Embrace the fact that you are alive, love, because it so easily could have been the other way around.”
Bonnie can’t find the counter argument to that at the moment. She knows it is there, festering inside of her but she can’t pull it out. Her wits have been dulled by lack of food and water making it impossible to keep up with him. She hates that. She hates that he has silenced her so effectively. She needs to be able to fight until the bitter end but if she can’t even make it out of round one she is going to be down for the count far too soon.
She realizes now that he is right. She should embrace her situation. She should take what he has to offer because she is going to need it if she is ever going to get out of here intact. She doesn’t have to fight him at every corner to prove that she is going to win. What was it that Alaric Saltzman had talked about when studying conflict (an ever present theme it seemed) - ah yes...
You can concede a battle, and still win the war - sometimes it is necessary for the enemy to think they have won, so you can catch them off guard when the time comes.
With that in mind, she retakes her seat, and reaches for a slice of bread. She chooses the jelly, spreads it lightly and is eyeing the glass of water. Her mouth is so dry it seemingly takes forever just to swallow one bite.
Klaus has taken to glancing at her, sipping his orange juice, fiddling with his fork (he really doesn’t realize how sorely his own manners are lacking does he?). Finally she can tell he can take it no longer. He leans forward, and she stops her progress. She looks at him expectantly.
“Surely, you are thirsty,” Klaus reasons.
She realizes he has put as much stock into a simple glass of water as she has. Given his nature, it doesn’t surprise her. However, it does surprise her that he has revealed it. He has given just a little room for her to play.
Bonnie reaches for the glass, only to set it aside. It is hard to do - there is condensation built on the outside and it is cool to the touch. She can only imagine what the water would feel like sliding down her throat.
“I prefer milk in the morning.”
She figures that is how it is for them - concede one battle, declare another.