❧ jenna finds out the truth—and takes it remarkably well ❧

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Everything had gone to shit faster than Amalie could keep up with.

The past week felt like a fever dream. First, there was the revelation that she was fated to be with the world's most powerful family. She didn't know much about the details yet, but she did know Elijah. And Elijah, at least, made her feel...something good. Something steady, even amidst the chaos.

Then, Alaric had daggered him. Amalie's stomach twisted at the memory of Elijah's skin greying, his anguished cry echoing through the dining room. The image hadn't left her mind, and she hadn't spoken to anyone since. Instead, she'  spent her days hiding in her new apartment. She was glad none of them knew where it was. She played Monopoly with her ghosts, Ana and Max. They made for unconventional company, but she liked it that way. She had to move the pieces for them, roll the dice, and make sarcastic commentary while they bickered over property trades and taxes. It was a peculiar sort of solace—quiet moments in a storm she couldn't control.

But just as she was beginning to settle into the illusion of peace, Isobel had shown up. Elena's birth mother, Alaric's not-so-dead ex-wife, and the surprise that had rattled Jenna's world, showing up on her doorstep. Jenna, who was unaware of the supernatural secrets swirling around her, felt blindsided. She'd looked Isobel in the eye, heard the woman speak, and seen every answer to her painful questions unravel in an instant.

Why had Alaric kept this from her? It would've been so simple—he could've just said that she had run away, they had issues. Or at the very least, let her know Isobel was still alive.

Then there was Elena, who had known about Isobel all along. The lie lingered like a bitter taste, which made Jenna feel betrayed on all sides. So, when she finally broke down, she'd packed her bags, her tears barely dried, and told Elena that she needed out—just a few days of peace and quiet, away from everyone, away from the drama, to work on her college thesis and escape. And Amalie had been the only person she trusted enough to ask for refuge.

Amalie's eyes drifted to the clock on her wall, watching the seconds tick by, wondering how Jenna would look when she arrived, and what words might be left unsaid between them.

A faint knock sounded at the door, and Amalie's heart gave a small, unexpected lurch. She opened it to find Jenna standing there. She looked utterly worn. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, her face bare of makeup, and her eyes were swollen and red, like she'd spent the entire night crying. She clutched a small suitcase in one hand and a canvas bag in the other.

"Hey," Amalie said softly, stepping aside to let her in. "Come on in."

Jenna gave her a weak smile, stepping into the apartment and glancing around, taking in the space. "Thanks for letting me crash here," she murmured, setting her suitcase down by the couch. "I just...I couldn't stay there anymore."

"You don't have to explain," Amalie replied, taking the bag from her and placing it near the suitcase. "You can stay as long as you need." She gestured toward the small kitchen. "Coffee is in the cabinet by the sink, and the bathroom's just down the hall. Oh, and I only have the one bed, so if you want, I can take the couch."

Jenna shook her head quickly. "No, no, I'll take the couch, I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed."

"Are you sure?" Amalie pressed, her brow furrowing.

Jenna gave her a faint smile. "Positive. This is a nice place, by the way."

"Thanks," Amalie said, sinking onto the couch as Jenna followed suit. "I haven't been here long, but I like it."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was heavy, filled with the weight of things left unsaid. Jenna stared at the floor, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket Amalie had handed her. She looked like she wanted to say something but couldn't quite bring herself to do it.

"Jenna," Amalie said gently, breaking the quiet. 'If you want to talk...about anything...I'm here."

Jenna looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you, Amalie," she said softly. "I just...I don't even know where to start. It's all so much."

Amalie nodded, leaning back against the couch. "I get it. Believe me, I do."

Amalie's living room was still a work in progress, each corner carrying hints of her intent to make the space her own. She had barely moved in a week ago after Elijah showed her the place, but in the last few days, she'd made enough changes to give it a touch of warmth—a kind of welcome imperfection. The walls were painted a soft gray that she liked for its calm neutrality, and her fingers had left light smudges on them as she'd hung and re-hung various paintings, trying to decide if she wanted something bold and abstract or something softer, like a quiet landscape.

On one side of the room, an old, slightly battered bookshelf she'd found at a thrift store leaned, filled with the essentials that Elijah had given her: a few leather-bound novels, a couple of classics like The Great Gatsby, Little Woman, and The Catcher in the Rye. And others that she had bought on her own, like a couple of vintage horror novels she'd bought purely for the covers, and a row of unlit candles that, for now, filled the air with a faint scent of peach.

She'd managed to find a low, dark pale blue sofa that was both stylish and cozy, with a few mismatched throw pillows she'd picked up hastily. They didn't exactly match, but somehow the clashing patterns—a faded plaid and a deep forest green—added a layer of charm to the room. A worn coffee table sat in front of the couch, its surface scattered with little reminders of the last few days: the Monopoly board she'd kept set up for Ana and Max, a wine glass she had forgotten to put away the night before, and an old, oversized mug she'd been using as a candle holder. The flame from the small candle inside cast soft, flickering shadows that made the room feel safe.

In the corner by the window, she'd placed a woven basket filled with extra blankets and an old armchair she'd found abandoned in the hallway. She'd meant to reupholster it, but for now, it wore its faded fabric like a badge of resilience. Outside, the view wasn't much—just the backs of a few buildings and the tops of trees—but in the evening, the light from the streetlamp would cast a warm, golden glow into the room, giving it a sense of quiet intimacy.

However, the room could not be more tense in Amalie's opinion, as she weighed the pros and cons of telling Jenna the truth about the supernatural world. The shadows flickered against the walls of her apartment, thrown into motion by the small candle on the coffee table. Jenna sat across from her on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, her gaze fixed on the floor in front of her as if it held answers.

Max sat on the arm of the lone chair that was beside Amalie. He looked at her with sincerity, raising an eyebrow as if silently encouraging Amalie to start.

After a long pause, Amalie took a deep breath, feeling the weight of her words before she spoke them. "Jenna," she began, her voice low, almost hesitant. "There's...there's something I need to tell you. It's not going to be easy to understand, but I think it's about time you know the truth."

Jenna's brow furrowed, her fingers twisting the edge of the blanket. "What is it?"

Amalie shifted forward in her seat, resting her forearms on her knees as she leaned closer. "I'm going to say something that's going to sound...impossible," she said slowly, trying to find the right words. "But I promise you, it's the truth. And it explains everything that's going through your right mind now."

Jenna's shoulders tensed. "Amalie, you're scaring me."

"I know," Amalie replied with a small, apologetic smile. "But I need you to trust me, okay? Just...hear me out."

Jenna hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she gave a slight nod. "Okay," she whispered.

Amalie took a deep breath, bracing herself. "The stories you've heard—about vampires, werewolves, witches...they're real."

Jenna blinked, her brow creasing deeper. "Real?" She repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

"I mean exactly what I said," Amalie continued gently. "Vampires. Werewolves. Witches. They exist, Jenna. And there are some of them here in Mystic Falls."

Jenna stared at her, blinking rapidly as though trying to process the words. "Wait...you're serious?"

Amalie nodded. "I am."

Jenna leaned back against the couch, shaking her head in confusion. "No. No, that's...I mean, it's not possible. Vampires? That's...that's just—" She stopped herself, her voice faltering.

"It sounds insane, I know," Amalie said softly. "But it's true. And Jenna, there's more. You deserve to know everything."

"More?"

Amalie hesitated, then decided to just rip off the bandage. "Stefan, Damon, and Caroline are vampires. Tyler Lockwood is a werewolf. And Bonnie Bennett is a witch."

Jenna let out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head. "No. Come on. Bonnie? She's just a kid. And Stefan and Damon—" She cut herself off, her eyes widening as realization dawned. "Oh my God."

Amalie watched her carefully, her heart aching at the mixture of betrayal and disbelief flashing across Jenna's face.

"They've been lying to me," Jenna said, her voice trembling. "This whole time? They've been lying to me?"

"They weren't trying to hurt you," Amalie said quickly. "They were trying to protect you. This world, Jenna—it's dangerous. They didn't want you caught in the middle of it."

Jenna let out a hollow laugh, tears brimming in her eyes. "Well, they did a great job of that, didn't they? I'm already in the middle of it! Isobel—" Her voice cracked, and she wiped at her eyes angrily. "Isobel's a vampire, isn't she?"

Amalie nodded, her expression apologetic. "She is. And I know that's a lot to take in, but—"

Jenna cut her off, her voice rising. "And Alaric? He knew? He knew she was alive, and he let me think—" She broke off.

Amalie's heart twisted. She moved to sit closer to Jenna on the couch, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. "Jenna," she said softly, her voice steady. "I know it feels like everyone's betrayed you. And I can't imagine how much it hurts. But they weren't trying to keep you out of the loop to hurt you. They just...wanted to protect you from this."

Jenna sniffled, looking up at her with watery eyes. "Why tell me now?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because I think you deserve the truth," Amalie replied honestly "And because...I don't want you to feel like you're alone in this. You're not. And because there's also something else I have to tell you."

Amalie slowly told Jenna about how she was also a vampire. She expected Jenna to stand up and find somewhere else to sleep for the night, or, at the very least, tense up in her spot. But as she continued to explain, she could see Jenna's shock morphing into fascination, a kind of childlike wonder that softened the lines of tension in her face. Her curiosity, once ignited, pushed her to ask about the details—what it was like to live as a vampire, how old Amalie was, and how she'd turned. There was something bittersweet in talking about it, but Amalie found herself opening up with surprising ease.

"I was born in the '30s," she began, her voice laced with nostalgia. "Lived through wartime, then was turned in the '50s...and I've been like this ever since." She could see Jenna's eyes sparkle with a mixture of sadness and fascination, her curiosity mingling with empathy.

Jenna leaned in, eyes shining with wonder. "So, you've really been here...for decades. You've seen things I can only read about."

A soft smile spread across Amalie's face, her heart warming at Jenna's openness. "Yeah," she said. "Though you might get better stories out of Stefan...or Elijah."

When Amalie explained that Elijah was also a vampire, she saw Jenna's expression tighten, her lips forming a thin line. "So...he's not a historical writer," she said, sighing with an exasperated look.

Amalie gave a small chuckle. "No, definitely not. But he's ancient and he's full of history," she joked. Then she hesitated, her voice softening. "And you were right...me and Elijah are connected." She talked about what Elijah had told her, about her soon-to-be relationship with him and his siblings, and the spell, and everything.

A flicker of surprise crossed Jenna's face, but it quickly softened into a warm smile, her eyes alight with genuine happiness. "Amalie, that's amazing. I'm...really happy for you." Then, with a light laugh, she added, "I just hope the universe remembers I'm here. When's my turn?"

The air lightened as they both laughed, but Jenna's gaze drifted back to the edge of her blanket, her fingers tracing an absent pattern on its surface. "Thank you," she murmured, her voice quiet but sincere. "For telling me."

Amalie offered her a small, warm smile. "Anytime."

###

Amalie stepped out of the Gilbert house, a small bag of Jenna's things slung over her shoulder. The sun was beginning to dip, painting the town in hues of amber and gold, and the evening air was light. Jenna had given her a short list of essentials she needed, and Amalie had gathered them up in minutes, slipping out of the quiet house. Now, she walked back toward her apartment, taking in the rare calm of the town, the simple pleasure of the fresh air, and the soft rustle of leaves.

She was only halfway down the block when a strange feeling prickled along her spine, a creeping sense that she was being watched. She slowed her pace, glancing casually over her shoulder, searching the street for any sign of someone—or something—that might be following her. But the road was empty, save for the occasional car parked along the curb and the scattered, rustling trees. She took a breath, almost laughing at her own paranoia, and turned back around.

Then she froze.

A man stood directly in her path, as if he'd materialized out of thin air. His blue eyes were locked onto hers, his expression one of raw astonishment, as if she were a ghost he'd spent more than a few lifetimes searching for. She knew he was a vampire just by one glance.

Amalie felt a small shiver run down her spine, but she kept her expression even. She studied him, struck by his features: refined, handsome in a way that demanded attention, his hair a tousled blond that glinted softly in the fading light. He looked at her with a mix of wonder and something else she couldn't read.

"Do I know you?" She asked, her voice steady but cautious.

The question seemed to pull him out of his trance. He blinked, his gaze still heavy on her, and then he breathed out a single word. "No." But his expression was unreadable, as though she were an apparition he didn't quite believe in. "I just had to make sure you were real, love."

The lilting cadence of his accent made her pause, but it was the intensity of his gaze that held her in place, like he'd found something rare, something impossible. He was here for a reason, and that alone was enough to put her on guard.

"What are you talking about?" She asked, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and curiosity. His presence reminded her of Elijah's the first time they'd met, that same haunting familiarity... Oh, she realized. Now she knew why he seemed familiar. Klaus  For some reason, realizing that Klaus himself was standing in front of her, didn't cause any fear to rise within her.

Klaus' lips curved into a slow smile, though there was a hint of sadness there, almost regret. "I'm sorry, truly. But this is necessary."

Before she could question him further, his eyes locked onto hers, his gaze sharpening with intent. Amalie's muscles locked in place, unable to resist the sudden pull of his power. Compulsion.

"You're going to forget this conversation and forget that you've seen me," he murmured, his voice a smooth, unbreakable command. "You're going to go back home, and we will meet again soon. I promise. "

The words seeped into her mind, taking root as her awareness began to fade. For a fleeting second, she felt the weight of his gaze, as though he were silently apologizing, and then everything changed. She was just staring down the sidewalk. She looked around but no one was there.

authors note.

klaus is hereee!!

a bit of a shorter chapter but i wanted to show amalie and jenna's friendship more, next chapter will be klaus in alaric's body at the dance.

let me know what you think, and don't forget to vote and comment 💗✌️