Her Majesty // Mikaelson

22 Efforts

Attached song: Little do you know by Alex & Sierra.

"Simon Cipriano." I pause, pursing my lips and staring at the ceiling. "Was the name of my first husband." I change the topic, telling Camille. I turn my head to look at her. "He was the King of Sicily. Though he wasn't meant to be. His older brother died tragically and so he inherited the throne." Cami looked at me, unamused. I smile, holding up the empty bottle than my hand had been holding to my chest. "I'm out of Tequila."

"Maybe if you didn't drink during all our sessions you'd find them more productive." Camille mutters, and any other normal patient wouldn't have heard her, but I did.

"Well, when you've lived to see the rise and fall of great empires, and religion change from many gods to one, and Monarchy government transferring to what the American's call Democratic-Republic, then you can be drunk for two days straight and I won't give you shit for it." I reply, flashing her my signature charmed smile and flirty eyes. The bartender rolls her eyes.

"It's called a Constitutional Federal Republic, to be specific." She corrects me. My face falls, and I drop the empty glass bottle onto the rug. "You say you've been drunk the last two days?" Cami asks, prodding into my venerable mind like a machine made for it. "Is that because what happened at the Party?" The shrink asks me. I scratch my chin, then my cheek, yawning.

"Please." I wave her off dismissively. "I knew your co-worker for like five minutes." I scoff, but it came out like a girlish giggle what with my slurred speech and squinty eyes. "I'm drunk so I don't have the competence to rips someone's eyes out or their heads off." I explain, slowly and precise, like informing someone why they should play with matches outside and not on the carpet. "Plus, if Cain thinks he's going to get into my head and use me as a personal weapon, or just use me in other, enjoyable but rather ostentatious ways, he's going to have to do it with the guilty conscience that I'm drunk, and therefore unable to give willing consent. Now, I'm not a priest or anything but-" I turn my head at Camille, who's mouth was twitching to hold back a smile. "-I'm pretty sure consent is necessary to both the Devil and the Man upstairs."

"That was beautiful." The bartender says when I've finished my speech. The sarcasm on her words would've been obvious to a deaf man. "The way you bare your soul to me as though I'm going to cleanse you of your sins." I smile at her, admiring how pretty she was. Most people were pretty in some way, but Camille was pure and tolerant. Two things that rarely coincided in women of this age. "Speaking of Cain, he was at the party, correct?" She pursues conversation. I nod absently, finding it hard to do so when laying down, and drunk.

"It seems only Kol and I really got a good, up close look at him." I lick my lips, which felt numb from the liquor. I couldn't even feel the action. My entire body buzzed with a numb sweaty feeling, also from the tequila. "And Alba." I add as an after thought. "I suppose he did too."

"I was there, but I never saw him." Camille continues. I touch my tongue with my finger, bursting into giggles. The blonde watched me calmly, but I could tell her temper was shortening.

"I can't feel my tongue." I explain, laughing harder now. It wasn't that funny. In fact, I didn't even mean to be laughing but I was.

"Merida." Elijah appears in the doorway. I stop laughing and prop myself up slightly on the couch. "Someone by the name of Arthur is here to see you."

"He's the next League's leader." I tell the Noble brother, who was buttoning his coat. I pull myself up, looking over at Camille for a light glance. She sat in her chair, her legs crossed, her bag at her feet. "Seems our session is over, I've got business to attend to." With a massive effort, I pull myself to my feet, swaying slightly, and grabbing the arm of the couch for support. My drunken stupor clashed with my neat dress. Although I had a love for heels, this time I had cleverly chosen flats. It all matched, I assure you, as I picked it out before even a drop of alcohol stained my already rosy lips. My hair was down, as per usual, but braids kept the short pieces out of my face.