Chapter Twelve

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Ella's heart stopped. She could deal with losing a century and a half of her life. She could deal with her curse. But she could not deal with this. A young boy permanently attached to an immortal monster. A families worst nightmare.

"Do you know what I am?" she asked calmly.

"What do you mean", stuttered Seth.

"Do you know what I am capable of? Do you know what I have done"?

Seth started to panic. His palms became sweaty and his heart started to beat faster. This was it. She was going to reject him

"Please" he pleaded.

"Don't do this, you don't understand"!

"What do I not understand", she replied coldly.

"I don't care what you've done! Being near you is all that matters to me".

Seth got down on his knees and grabbed Ella's hands.

"I don't chose who I imprint on. My wolf chooses for me", he spoke softly, as if she were a wounded animal. And a wounded animal she was.

" When I first saw you my wolf knew we were meant to be. Our souls fit together perfectly like we were made for each other".

Ella, who had up until this point been staring down at her lap, lifted her head and turned to the side. A lone tear trailed down her cheek.

"No", she cried

"Please not now".

Seth looked up at her confused. What did she mean? Then all of a sudden her eyes glazed over and she collapsed...

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Rowan de Montfort was a patient vampire. Eleanora had taught him to be so. Good things only come to those that wait, she would say. And after all these years, she was, as always right. He had waited for her and as he did he gained his family lands, a coven of vampires to follow him and wisdom beyond imagination. But he could be nothing greater without her. She made him all he is. He shaped his very soul. He was and still is dependent on her. He needs her to survive. And that is her curse. The curse she bestowed upon all that she raised. She is the master, and they the willing servants.

Rowan had been born in 1700 in Spain to a Spanish mother and a French father. His parents had been killed in one of Kol Mikealsons massacres. At the tender age of 2, he had been taken in by Eleanora who had saved him from Kol's wrath. She had raised him, tutored him, and turned him. And she did it again and again and again. Whenever they moved she would set up a new orphanage, her cover story for possessing so many different children.

She chose those she found most worthy to be turned. The children all fought for the honor. The love of one parent is what children desired most. And although she was not their mother, she did not kill their parents. She became their mother, our guardian, our hope. The temptation of immortal life and power was great but Eleanora was smart. She never turned the power hungry, or the sly, or the rebellers. They would not suit her cause.

She turned only those who were loyal to her. And they stayed loyal to her, too indebted or afraid to betray. Her own loyal sire line.

But they became dependent on her. Rowan did not know what to do after she disappeared other than to look for her. So he spent his time searching. He planted spies in every corner of the world hoping one would stubble along a trail. But none did. He came to know all the goings on of the supernatural community. He knew where many of the Mikealsons were at all times (so had disappeared for periods of time, daggered he had presumed). But knowledge of where Eleanora was had always eluded him.

But know he had found her. The one he would follow to the ends of the earth...


Authors note:

Sorry for the short chapter but I thought I should probs start posting before my hiatus becomes permanent. I need to get back in to the habit of writing so upcoming chapter might also be short!

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