Beatrice

Without you I am heartbroken
Without me you are dead

As the car jolted through the streets, skidding round corners and hurtling over potholes, Klaus Baudelaire felt sick.

If you were particularly inclined to travel sickness, this combined force of speed and uneven road would no doubt result in your face going green and throwing up in a brown paper bag. Travel sickness is a terrible condition that could be eased if only people built better roads or didn't drive like lunatics. Klaus was currently experiencing a lunatic driver, so you really couldn't blame him for travel sickness in this instance.

However, Klaus Baudelaire was not suffering with travel sickness.

What made Klaus feel sick was the tight knot in the pit of his stomach, twisting at his insides until he felt all flipped upsidedown. It was not a knot of spaghetti or some other kind of tying up food, it was a knot of guilt. Guilt was rising up in him like particularly nasty bile but it was too late do anything about it now. Even for an exceptionally smart boy such as he.

Reader, if you enjoy stories of sunshine and rainbows then I fear you have come to the wrong place. This story can only be one of woe and despair. If you prefer stories of the former, I implore you to go and read the story of the Happy Little Elf. The protagonist is an adorable Happy Little Elf who goes on all sorts of twee adventures full of sugary cuteness and always gets his own way. It remains the only book Klaus has failed to complete.

His little sister Sunny nestled in the crook of his arm. Still a baby her eyelids drooped to a close before wildly fluttering back open in a panic to stay awake. Just a few months ago he found that stubbornness amusingly adorable. Now he knew it was her own way of fighting for survival. Having only just been released from capture, Klaus knew that his baby sister wanted to be ready to defend herself with her exceptionally sharp teeth should anything happen again. He wondered if she appreciated the fact that, as an infant, her chances were pretty slim.

To his right was his older sister, Violet, who sat staring out the window with a surprisingly vacant expression, seemingly unmoved by the terrible driving and the even worse situation they now found themselves in. Her dark hair was starting to tumble down from its ornate style, tendrils of hair framing her expressionless face. Klaus remembered them playing weddings as children. Often Violet would play the photographer, but one of the last times she played it she dressed herself in the scrap of white lace they pretended was a veil and beamed with pride. He couldn't have been any older than eight but he thought to himself then how proud he would be to see her in a real wedding dress.

Now here she was dressed all in white on her wedding day. He'd heard people tell her how beautiful she looked. There was only one problem.

She was fourteen years old.

Her groom was at the wheel of the car cackling like a madman and swigging wine as he celebrated his good fortune. In this instance, good fortune is a figure of speech, but soon enough a real monetary fortune would be following soon; all for being mad enough to go along with a plan that no adult had been able to stop.

When Klaus was ten he'd gone camping for a week with his school. Before he went away his mother and father sat him down to explain some things.

"While you are away your teachers are in charge." They'd said. "They become your guardians and as your guardians you must show them the same respect you do us. A guardian only wants what is best for you just as we do, so you must obey them and understand that any decisions they make are ones to keep you safe."

Count Olaf was their guardian now. And Count Olaf was not the sort of guardian his parents had described. The decisions he made were to suit his own gains. He didn't want what was best for them, quite the opposite and put them in danger just by existing. Klaus wondered if his parents would want him to respect and obey Count Olaf. He also wondered why on earth their will had left the children in this terrible man's care.

"The entire Baudelaire fortune!" Olaf was crowing as if he himself could scarcely believe it, his eyes bright with jubilation. "Mine! Finally mine! After years of waiting I finally have my hands on it."

"What will you buy first, boss?" The hook handed man asked. He was squeezed in the back with the Baudelaire children but so far had paid no attention to them.

From the rear view mirror, Klaus saw Olaf's eyes gleam.

"Wine first!" He announced. "We'll drink ourselves stupid. From then on who knows? I have so many ideas."

Klaus' hands balled up into fists. This was not Olaf's money. This was his parent's money. Money they had worked hard for. Money they had saved for their children's futures. It felt hopelessly unfair.

He felt a hand take his. Without moving her face away from the window, Violet had taken his hand in hers. He felt a little better.

Beside him Sunny had finally fallen asleep.

"What are you going to do about the brats?" The hook handed man asked in a stage whisper.

Whispering is incredibly useful. You can whisper birthday present ideas while the person with the upcoming birthday is only in the next room none the wiser. You can whisper your devotion to your true love while their spouse is inches away. You can whisper a secret code to another volunteer and prevent a fire.

Stage whispering is only an illusion to whispering. The other actors on stage pretend not to hear it while it is loud enough for the audience to hear and contribute to their enjoyment of the show. It is not a good idea to ask someone something, with the people you are talking about nearby, in a stage whisper.

Klaus saw Olaf roll his eyes at his associate's stupidity. Then then their eyes met in the mirror. Klaus tried to stare him out, but Olaf had the look in his eye of a delighted lion who had finally stumbled across a gazelle. "Oh I can think of some uses." He said softly. "They've already proved themselves as mediocre slaves."

The bald man with the long nose was in the passenger seat. Klaus had already noted that he was the only one of Olaf's associates to enjoy that luxury. He also seemed to be allowed a certain amount of freedom compared to the others, not close enough to be partners, but he was higher up the scale than the others. He was the one Violet feared most.

"I hope you won't see too much of a change in them." He said smoothly. "If I were you I'd lock them up. Stop any silly ideas of running away from getting into their heads."

"Oh that won't happen." Olaf said confidently. "I have plans to prevent any little jaunts away from home. By the time I'm done, they'll never disobey my orders again."

But this wasn't their home. Their home had been beautiful, passed down through the generations. The library had been his favourite. Thousands of books collected through the years, some in languages he had not yet learned, others in codes he longed to understand. With a pang he remembered his father had promised to teach him some day.

Olaf's house was probably grand some years ago. Perhaps before the Count had moved in it had been someone's pride and joy. Now it was dirty and dishevelled as its owners soul.

The car screeched up onto the drive and Klaus felt another stab in the gut at their impending doom. Olaf clearly felt quite the opposite as he sounded quite jovial. "Here we are orphan's! Home already for the wedding party!"

As the adults bundled out of the car Violet turned to Klaus, her face finally betraying some kind of expression.

It wasn't good.

"I'm scared, Klaus." She bit her lip. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to get out of this one."

"We'll think of something." He gabbled, not even believing it himself. "We'll get away. We can make a plan."

The car door swung open and Olaf had his arm around Violet's waist, pulling her out of the car as if she were a rag doll. "Welcome home, bride!" He laughed as Violet squirmed away from him. "I must carry you onto the threshold!"

Klaus felt a tug on his collar as the hook handed man hauled him out the other side. The associate of indeterminable gender held Sunny who was biting them frantically, but they didn't seem to notice.

"Let go of my sisters!" Klaus had meant to sound powerful and threatening, but his voice cracked and wobbled. He felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment as he was reminded once again of how unlike his father he was, how he could never be strong like him. Tears stung in his eyes as they laughed at him. He forced himself to continue. "Let us all go."

Olaf smirked. "Go? Go where? I can't let you go anywhere until I've put my hands on your fortune."

"You'll never touch our fortune." Klaus snapped.

The grin slipped from Olaf's face as a terrible expression crossed it. Still staring at Klaus with those wild angry eyes, he slowly snaked his arm around Violet's shoulders. She flinched. "Oh, Klaus." He said softly. "I think you'll find I can touch anything I like."

The associates around them sniggered. Klaus felt the heat rise in his cheeks.

"Anyway, why would I want to do let you go?" Olaf's yellowing teeth spread into a sickly grin. "My beautiful bride and children belong here with me. I couldn't bear for us to be apart."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he summoned up his bravery as he gritted his teeth. "We know that's not the truth, Olaf." He said steadily. "You're not a good enough actor to pull off that lie."

If anyone had been carrying a pin and at that precise moment decided to drop it, you would have been able to hear it.

Olaf's amber eyes grew shinier as the smirk slipped off his face as if he'd been slapped.

Klaus suddenly stopped feeling very brave and started to feel very stupid.

Thrusting Violet at the bald man with the long nose, Olaf slowly made his way towards him. The creeping was deliberate, designed to evoke terror in the boy and it was working. Even though Olaf moved at a snail's pace, Klaus felt rooted to the spot. Sunny had stopped biting the associate of indeterminable gender. Violet was no longer struggling against the bald man with the long nose. Both of his sisters were as frozen in fear as he was.

When Olaf finally towered over him, Klaus felt his knees buckle. The angry glint in his guardians eye forced his own gaze to the ground and he tensed as he saw Olaf raise his fist.

"Stop!" Violet cried out.

To Klaus' surprise, Olaf turned back to look at her. Clearly it took Violet by surprise too because nothing more came out of her mouth.

"Speak wife." Olaf snarled. "You better have a good reason why I shouldn't beat your bratty brother senseless."

Violet flinched as her mouth gaped open helplessly. "I only mean that…I only mean…If you were to beat Klaus he wouldn't be fit for chores in the morning." With reasoning her voice grew more confident. "He's just a weak little boy. Even one punch would do too much damage. Give him more chores to do tomorrow. I'm sure he's already very sorry."

Klaus couldn't see Olaf's expression. He could only hear his voice.

"One punch, you say?"

Then everything went black.

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When Klaus came to his senses felt under attack. Music blasted out of the speakers until his surroundings shook, the rest of the noise came from cackles and drunken singing. The stench in the air was liquor and it was enough to make him sick. The room was still spinning but he was able to work out it was Olaf's living room. Looking down at him from the ceiling were hundreds of painted eyes. Each pair different from the next. It felt like the gods were watching them. Waiting. As he stirred some more he felt Violet's hand press down on his arm to prevent him from sitting up. His head was in her lap while, on her other side, a wary Sunny nestled in the crook of her arm.

The associates were dancing wildly, not even bothering to keep in time to the music; they danced to their own beat. Each of them held a dozen bottles while even more littered the floor. The associate of indeterminable gender had passed out and was snoring softly in the corner of the room. The white faced women were shrieking with laughter as the hook handed man attempted to waltz with them both.

The wart faced man and the bald man with the long nose were playing some sort of drinking game. Klaus couldn't work out if it was the loser or the winner who took a drink. Perhaps it was both.

Only Olaf seemed separate from the group. Watching the scene with some curiousity, like a child on their first day of school. He always seemed to be watching. As Klaus looked at the tattoo of the eye on his ankle it stared back.

"Klaus!" Olaf spun around suddenly. "What a nasty little fall you had."

He could feel Violet's gaze burning into him. Don't answer back. He sat up and rubbed his head.

"You must have tripped." Olaf was beaming. When Klaus didn't answer he leaned in so close Klaus gagged from the decaying smell of his breath. "You must have tripped."

A pinch from Violet brought him back down from any brave idea he'd have liked to try. "I must have tripped." He muttered.

Olaf's face cracked into an even bigger smile. "Good boy." He straightened up, looming over the Baudelaire children. "Welcome to the wedding party. I was going to send you all straight to bed, but being the kind guardian I am, I thought you could stay for a little while. Maybe even have a horse dwarf or two."

The children exchanged a glance.

"A what?" Violet asked.

Olaf rolled his eyes irritably. "A horse dwarf. Did your beloved parents never take you to parties?"

"Gonvos" Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of, not to these sort of parties you odious man.

Olaf ignored her and gestured to a tray on the coffee table that held a dozen tiny canapés. Sloppily done and with ingredients going out of date, Klaus suspected Olaf hadn't hired a caterer.

"Those are horse dwarves." Olaf said slowly as if talking to a particularly deaf elderly tourist. "Horse dwarves. You eat them."

Klaus suppressed a laugh which turned into a snort. "Do you mean Hors d'oeuvres?"

He could see Violet bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from giggling. That was until Olaf grabbed Klaus by the scruff of the neck.

"Get out of my sight."

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Back in the relative safety of their room, the Baudelaire children breathed a sigh of relief and crumpled to the floor.

"I was sure he was going to separate us." Violet said as she clung to her younger siblings. "Klaus, I was so afraid. Sunny, I thought he would put you back in that cage."

"Quentic." Sunny said, which meant something along the lines of, "if anyone tries that again I'll see they don't have much of a face left."

"How could they allow this to happen?" The question that had been burning up inside him suddenly burst out.

"Justice Strauss didn't know." Violet put a hand on his shoulder as she attempted to soothe him. "And the plan was so far-fetched; it is understandable Mr Poe would never believe us."

"Not them." Klaus felt the angry hot tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. He balled his hands into fists again. "Mother and Father. How could they let this happen? Why did we end up with Count Olaf?"

Violet gently cupped his face in her hands, carefully avoiding the bruise that was blossoming by his eye.

"We mustn't blame them." She said softly. "They couldn't have known this would happen. No one could."

Reluctantly Klaus nodded. His father had once told him that the dead were the easiest to blame but not always the right ones. He suddenly felt ashamed.

Violet sighed again as she straightened up and lifted Sunny. "We should all get to bed. We've had a difficult day. In the morning I'll sort something out. Anything I can. It can't be a lawful marriage if I was coerced. We know Mr Poe is useless, but Justice Strauss will help us. Just you wait and see, the marriage will be annulled and I'll insist we be cared for by a more suitable guardian." She gave the pair a reassuring smile. "We can be thankful tonight that we are all together. That's what's important, that we stay together."

"Favo" said Sunny, which meant something like quite right!

When Klaus nodded again, Violet looked relieved as if she'd expected him to argue. "Sunny should get to stretch out on the bed tonight. I can't imagine that cage was very comfortable."

And so the Baudelaire children settled down for the night, each taking turns to comfort one another. They could not know what the morning would bring, so for now they would give thanks that they were still together.