The Family Name:Chapter 1 - First Of All

"Okay girl, you got this." I said to my reflection for what I hoped to be the final time. I'd been attempting to amp myself up to face the world for the last 20 minutes, leaning against the counter around the sink as my opposing self stared back at me. My makeup was on point, my hair was beautifully waterfall curled down my shoulders, my outfit perfect for a poised attack against a room full of sharks.

If those sharks were in suits.

With a deep breath that was slow on the intake, I made to exit the bathroom.

The first thing that came into view was my roommate, standing in the hall across from the bathroom with tired written all over her features. Impatiently, she tapped her foot against the wood floors, sending vibrations into the hallway. Her hair was frazzled, and her skin dark against the shadows of the unlit hall, giving her a feral look.

"Took you long enough." She yawned, unlinking her arms from each other before we switched places so she could get the the sink.

"Sorry, Keelin... I'm just nervous."

"Girl," She said as we turned back to each other, a hairbrush pointed at me in a threatening manner, "You've been cooking since you were 8. Beyond the insane amount of schooling you received, you're a culinary genius, and I'm sure to certain parts of the world, you're a freakin' idol." She said. Somehow, none of those things comforted me, even though I knew them all to be fact, but the grin on her face spread like wildfire. "If those twits in that tower of theirs don't immediately offer you a job simply from setting foot in the door, they are idiots, and don't deserve your presence."

"I'm not a Goddess..." I grumbled. "...But the idea of them groveling gives me a bit of comfort." The comment eased the morning tension between us, and in spite of my anxiety, I found myself joining in her sudden laughter. "...Alright, I should go. I want to beat traffic, and not be late for this job I'm definitely not getting."

"Good optimism! A Shining example to prodigy's everywhere!" She shouted as I made my way down the hall. I rolled my eyes as I gathered my things: my purse, and into it's spacious compartments went my phone, keys, and wallet. I took one last look at the apartment behind me, noting the sickly yellow color of the walls in the kitchen, and the barren off-white colors of the living room and hallway, before making my way to the outside world.

I stood on the doorsteps for a while, gazing into the scenery of a concrete jungle. It was broken up with the occasional trees, giving it some color, but was surrounded by dark gates to keep you from ever reaching said brilliance. The streets were littered with newspaper and leaves, people who were walking to work with headphones in or joggers passing by. There were a few kids across the way playing with chalk on the sidewalk, and occasionally cars would pass by.

This early in the morning, hardly anyone was out and about, which was good for me. I closed my eyes for a moment before taking the first steps down.

After several minutes, I eventually found myself in front of a very looming building; Tall, and quite intimidating with the large 'M' on the front, A testament to just how powerful the business was.

They would plaster a letter on a building, and everyone nearby would know.

Before I could even assess the anxiety welling up in my throat, the door opened, giving me quite the fright, and I jumped away from the opening. The person walking out jumped back, just as shocked as I, dropping their cigarette from the hand to the ground.

"I'm so sorry!" I said, reaching down to grab it and hand it back to them.

"No worries." She sighed, taking the stick and holding a hand over her heart. "I believe you are expected this morning, yes?" She inquired, to which I nodded.

"Yes. I have an interview. I was asked to come in early."

"I believe he is already here, expecting you." He? That sounded unsettling.

Am I late? I looked to the watch on my wrist. I was, in fact, much earlier than originally intended.

"Come in." She said, motioning into the doorway. I pulled myself through it, envisioning myself leaving all of the bad luck and nervousness on the sidewalk to melt in the sun. I was greeted by a second set of doors, which were also opened for me. The man holding this door was less chatty, and merely stared into nothing as I went by, even after I thanked him.

My feet fell heavy on the tile of the room, the silence in the air settling onto me like a blanket of anxiety. I couldn't hear the air movement of the conditioner, even though it was absolutely freezing inside. There were no fans, no hustle and bustle. Just silence.

I'm waiting for the pin to drop.

I looked over the neatly kept tables, each adorning its own centerpiece, with four chairs to accompany them. The place was absolutely stunning, upholding its reputation as a dominating industry.

"...Where is everyone?" I wondered aloud, looking around. The dining hall was large, and not a soul to be seen. And the eerie quiet pushed me to make a decision: I would check the kitchen.

I found the doorways quite easily, and pushed into them, grinning as I came upon the view. It was fully furnished, with everything an aspiring chef could dream of. I awed in how pristine it was, sparkling clean and barely used, ready to be worked in.

I'd never seen a kitchen sparkle before.

I set my purse down on the counter, browsing the various equipment; Fryers, refrigerators, pots and pans, knives, and cabinets above and below the counters containing more items than I could count. I stopped at the sharp objects sticking from the magnet in front of one of the countertops, which I assumed was for prep. I reached for one, interested in its design.

"I'd rather those reserved for the touch of a chef." A very English, cross voice echoed through the kitchen. I leapt back, turning towards the swinging doors as the echo died around me.

The man looked disheveled, with a scruffy face and tussled hair, hinting he'd either just awoken, or had a distinct lack of care for his appearance. His clothes said much the same, with wrinkled slacks and a half opened dress shirt hanging off his profile. His eyes were bright and beautiful as he looked over me, and I couldn't help but feel self conscious they trailed downward. He was extremely attractive, and I found myself gaping. His hands were behind his back as he slowly approached one of the prep counters.

"That is, when we've decided on one." That voice had come out of his mouth, and I found myself speechless to its tone. "Might I ask what you're doing, meandering about my kitchen?" He said, standing just an arms length away from me.

"I--" I said quietly. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as I cleared my throat. "I apologize. I am here for an interview, but I didn't see anyone, and I wasn't directed." I said, looking towards the door. "I got a little carried away with how breathtaking it is here." I grinned before turning back to him. He seemed less than amused, and I receded back into a nervous state.

"...You're the new Chef?" He was skeptical as he looked me over once again. I felt a twinge of anger somewhere at the way he seemed to judge me quickly. As I was about speak up, A voice interrupted.

"Correct, Niklaus." Another man, with a more refined accent than his counterpart, stepped into the kitchen, looking entirely more prepared than the man, Niklaus.

He grinned over at me as he approached, and I noticed how easily he glided over the tiled floor. He ran a hand through his wavy bronze hair, his face turning from a kempt ease, to a hardened jaw and a glare at the other in the room with us.

He adjusted his pressed suit as Niklaus spoke up.

"I told you I'd handle it this time." Niklaus said through gritted teeth.

"And I told you no." The man said, turning to view him. "But I should know better than to think you'd listen." They stared at each other for a while before Niklaus turned to glare at me, clicking his tongue as he backed away towards the kitchen doors.

"Of course... Brother." He said, the condescending tone laid thick in his voice as he turned away and exited in a harsh manor.

"My apologies for his behavior. It appears he is in need of more coffee." He gave a slight grin, and my heart fluttered. He moved closer, extending his hand to me. "I'm Elijah Mikaelson."

"Tassryn." I said with a grin as I took it. "I didn't mean to pry."

"No need to apologize. I'd like you to get familiar with the surroundings." He said. "I've read a great deal about you. You're quite the novice."

"Am I?" I chuckled nervously. "That's certainly a bold title."

"I've read your history. Do you suppose I am wrong to think you might have a talent?"

"...Well, I... Suppose not." I said gently. "What does one call an accomplished food taster?"

"A chef." He mused, to which you laughed. "Not to rush, but shall we get started?" He said, motioning to the doors to the dining hall. "I'd like to discuss what we expect from you."

"Expect?" I inquired, taking a few steps toward my purse I had left. "You talk as if I already have the job."

"Did I not make that obvious?" He grinned, walking with me. "We would like to move forward with the hiring process. The way we interview is a bit different than most. Please." He motioned again to the doors. I swiped the purse up and headed into the hall, finding myself being lead to a table with several papers on it, scattered about. I was made to sit in the most gentlemanly way, my chair being pushed in before he, himself, took a seat next to me.

"So, what is it that should be expected of me?" I started. He flashed a grin at me.

"Quick to the draw..." He said gently. I gripped my purse hard in hopes to keep myself from blushing. "The interview process starts with a taste test." He said, pulling about some papers before handing it to you. "These are a few of the lists from several of our chains, to give you an idea of what we try to accomplish here." I looked down at the lists, skimming over one. I turned to the second and became confused. More so when I hit the third, really reading it now.

"...They're completely different." I glanced through the papers before looking up at him. "Is this region based?"

"Not exactly." He grinned. "Each restaurant we've opened, we've asked for each chef to bring their individuality. We want their best, and their favorites. I tend to find that things from the heart are the best." He shrugged slightly, and I found myself smiling. "So! Here is how we will assess you: You will have 3 days to come up with a menu. We ask you make a minimum of 5 courses, simply so we can have a variety of your desired flavors. Obviously, one of those should be a desert." I mentally agreed with him.

"There will be a handful of people here from other restaurants, myself included, to eat these dishes. You will be staffed as if its a full kitchen, as if its a full restaurant. You will have any resources at your disposal. Am I clear so far?" I nodded. "Good."

"Should I expect to practice here?" I inquired, to which he perked up. "And how many people will I be serving for? Is your team prepared to follow a chef they don't even know? Or even know that It's only my trail run?" He laughed slightly.

"Those are all very good questions. Surprisingly, you're the first to ask rather than jump in head first."

"And how many of those head first chefs did you decline for this location?" I said, a grin spreading on my face. He leaned back in his chair.

"...5 of them." He mused. I gave a small shrug and he tilted his head. "Alright, then. I'll send you a list that will answer all of your questions by the end of today, at the latest. I assume that your information is up to date?" He slid a piece of paper closer to me, and I verified the contents of my home address, email, and phone number. "Then I shall have it emailed to you posthaste."

"Thank you so much... Uh..." I cleared my throat. "...It feels strange to just call you Elijah." He raised his eyebrow slightly before chuckling.

"Would Mr. Mikaelson roll off the tongue better?" He said smugly, to which I had no response. I probably looked like an idiot, sitting there with my mouth gaping. He laughed gently. "I'll let you ponder on that choice." He said as he stood, knocking me out of my befuddled trance. I stood as well, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it. "Pleasure, Tassryn." He smiled.

"...Pleasure's all mine, Elijah." I said with a grin, turning to take my leave before he could say anything else to make my heart leap. As i was let out of the first set of doors into the street, i noticed my nervousness had not melted into the sun, but it'd come back with a vengeance. I turned to look up at the building, the realization of my achievements today as the 'M' loomed over me.

I had met both of the Mikaelson Brothers, and I'd never wanted to die more in my entire life.