Elijah Mikaelson (The Originals) & Darren (Wasted on the Young)
Continuing after Offer
“Oh la la, it’s really true as the rumors spread,” cried the beautiful redhead that popped out of nowhere. It took a crushing bear hug from her for Darren to realize she was referring to him (who else in this empty yard?). Feeling a little suffocated (as if he needed to breathe), Darren tried to wriggle out of her iron embrace without unfavorably hurting her with his new vampiric strength, and only when he failed epically did a realization strike him: she was no ordinary woman but a supernatural being – a vampire like him – with God-know-how-many years in difference. She looked slim, yet Darren wagered she had to be at least thrice his strength, probably more.
Well, this was New Orleans, where the Original family dwelled, so it was unsurprising to find bloodsuckers lurking at any corner. His first lesson learnt here.
And if this diabolical strength confined in a fragile-looking figure was not convincing enough as proof of her vampirism, her demonic speed as she grabbed him by the waist and teleported them both from where they were standing was another stamping piece of evidence.
Darren was sauntering around the Mikaelsons’ compound, leisurely weighing his options to have a beignet or a blood bag for breakfast when she materialized like a David Copperfield trick, dressed to the nines and wearing a wide grin. The next thing Darren knew was that he had been practically kidnapped by a much-older vampire whose intention for him was as vague as her supernatural age.
“You’re a fan of beignets?” she casually asked in her sing-song tone after dropping a puzzled Darren in front of a shop. And not waiting for a decent reply, or any reply at all, she grabbed the infant vampire by the arm, leading him inside.
Even when he was seated in a very nice table basking in the early morning sun, on which placed practically every type of beignets the house could offer, Darren was still a little behind what was really going on.
You have to excuse him though, since it wasn’t every day he was abducted by an elder who was going to murder him alive with too many choices of beignets and a diabetic amount of ground sugar.
“I’m Aurora,” she cheerfully introduced herself, reaching for a beignet and rolling it in the plate of sugar before taking a happy, large bite. “And you?” she asked once she had finished swallowing.
“Darren,” he answered warily, his eyes alternating between the vampire Aurora and the sweets.
“Well, Darren, don’t be shy. Beignets in this shop are the most heavenly. It’s not like you’re going to gain any pound. Or…”
Aurora glanced around and beckoned a waitress to her side. “Or… you want something less in cholesterol and a little richer in nutrition? After all you’re growing, aren’t you?”
Again, Darren had no idea what this vampire meant until the waiter grasped a knife and stoically spilled her blood. With wide eyes and suppressed gasp he watched red juice fill two cups.
The sporadic few patrons in the shop seemed not to notice anything unusual. Probably compelled, all of them.
Placing one cup in front of Darren, Aurora dismissed the waitress, now looking a bit paler. She took a sip and sighed. “A little salty but not too bad. You know, my old friend Lucien said Cajun people taste better than others, probably the best. I think he was bluffing. Do you? He couldn’t have tasted all the world, could he? Oh, have your food, Darren. Haven’t you been taught not to stare at a lady while she’s eating? I’ll be embarrassed.”
Darren had no choice but to bring the cup to his lips like an obedient child who was told to drink his milk. Too busy to watch out for Aurora’s move at the corner of his eyes (not that he could try anything if she wanted to do something) that Darren lost the chance to savor the blood as he normally did. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, human or vampire.
“May I ask why you abducted me?”
The surprises look on Aurora’s face was as if only now did she realize she had kidnapped him. “Oh, you’re not over 18 right? Is that a crime?”
Darren would turn 18 in two months from now, but thanks to Elijah, he would never pass 17.
“That’s too bad,” Aurora sounded like she was moaning. “I’m so, so sorry. I still have to take you with me though.”
“Why? It’s not like I’ve known you, let alone offended you.”
Aurora looked at him with a spark in her eyes and smiled a smile so sweet Darren actually felt uncomfortable. He shifted his eyes to the array of beignets and tried to busy himself with which choice to make.
“Did I tell you look like someone?”
“No, you didn’t,” he replied truthfully. “But since I came here I’ve been receiving a lot of curious looks from the local vampires although I have practically never met them in my life.”
“Did Elijah tell you anything?”
“He once said I looked like someone he’d known for a long time. I don’t think it’s appropriate for me to probe into—”
Darren’s speech was interrupted by Aurora’s giggles. “What’s so funny?”
Only when her giggles subdued did she answer, or rather, ask him, “Has he bedded you yet?”
Darren gloriously choked on the piece of beignet he had been chewing in waiting for Aurora’s reply.
“You’re bit too young but who knows? Maybe that depraved Original fancies green grass. You’re certainly the type, especially with these huge blue eyes of yours. Kind of like a puppy. Oh how I wish he could look so cute like you.”
“No!” protested Darren. “There’s nothing like that. What made you think so?”
“No?” Aurora echoed with a surprise note in her tone. “He’s been worrying himself sick over nothing, that silly boy,” she muttered under her breath.
Not that Darren couldn’t hear her. “Who’s ‘he’?”
“You’ll get to know soon enough,” she said in normal volume. “You see, Elijah kind of likes you and I kind of hate his guts, so you can’t blame me if I want to have him running amok searching for his favorite pet for a day. Or two. In the mean time, I’m going to bring you to ‘him’.”
“What business does ‘he’ have with me?” Darren asked incredulously.
Aurora shrugged. “I haven’t a clue. He may kill you, you know, rip out your heart like Elijah so loves to make his kill. His jealousy is tyrannical, as they say.”
Darren clenched the fork in his hand so hard it snapped into two.
“But I doubt it so. That silly brother of mine treasures his sire line more than they actually deserve. Ah ah, don’t think about calling Elijah,” she warned, seeing him sneaking a hand into his jeans’ pocket. “I can break both of your hands quicker than you can pull it out. Or I can simply twist your daylight ring off your finger and let the sun work its magic.”
Darren grunted and put his hands back on the table.
“That’s a good boy. Now I can offer you two choices.”
Darren smirked. “Now I even have a choice. Awesome.”
To his surprise, and embarrassment, Aurora pinched his cheek with her manicured hand. “Aw, you look much cuter than him when you do this smirk. And yes, darling, you do. You can choose to behave and eat your beignets and we’ll happily go on a city tour before we come to him. Strongly advised. The second option is simpler: I snap your neck and drag you to him like a dumb potato sack.”
Defeated, Darren reached out for a beignet and bit off an angry, frustrating chunk. Aurora’s smile deepened.
“Tristan, oh, Tristan,” Aurora called with deafening volume once they entered a mansion, the final destination of their ‘happy’ New Orleans tour. “Come and see what I’ve brought for you, dear brother.”
“For a thousand times, dear sister, I strongly dislike beignets,” a male voice spoke, accompanied by steady footsteps.
Darren looked around, seeking the source. When he found it, his eyes enlarged with disbelief.
It wasn’t “look like” as Aurora and Elijah had said; this man, Tristan, was how Darren would probably look ten years later, unarguably much more refined. The dream version of himself. In fact, he doubted if he would ever reach this man’s level, no matter how many years added.
By the slight expression on his face, Darren could tell the initial surprise was mutual, although Tristan handled it more elegantly.
“The rumors are true, after all, that Elijah brought home a mini-you to be his pet.”
Tristan smiled, but unlike Aurora’s honeyed smile, Tristan’s was cold and didn’t reach his winter-blue eyes. “You know the Mikaelsons are notorious for their peculiar pastimes. And I do prefer this to your sugary beignets, sister.”
Turning his gaze to Darren, Tristan added, “I’ve heard so much about the doppelgänger legend, but never once have I thought that I would have one myself. Tell me, how are you called, my shadow self?”