THE MUSE | n. mikaelson

ii - the way of nature

chapter two,     the way of nature

     FRAGILE. The woman in front of him was fragile as if she will crumble into tiny little shards just from his look. How someone so fragile could destroy something so powerful? His hand on her neck only tightened, the grip becoming harder, counting each and every bone at the back of her vertebrae and how easy it would be to break them all.

     Deep, forced breaths left through her trembling lips. The desperate need for warmth betrayed her, it took her into another nightmare. So afraid of water, she turned to fire, but there was nothing left but betrayal. But she couldn't give him, the murderous man, the benefit of her fear. She knew men like him. Men like him abused her. Men like him drowned her.

      "Ophelia?"

      The painfully familiar voice ignited life back into her void. Her body reacted – it twisted in pain, the pulse in her neck becoming loud and clear. Her wide eyes filled with tears as the memory crashed back into her – her brothers were dead. Their father shot him just minutes before the townspeople decided to sentence her to death.

      But it was Stefan's voice. And she didn't focus on the painful grip on her neck, on the rough, unloving grass beneath her feet, on the coldness of the wind. Stefan.

      The man moved a bit, giving her access to lock her eyes with the man behind him, who called out her name. It was Stefan. It was the same set of lovely eyes that she spent her entire childhood trying to figure out what colour his eyes really were. On some days, the little golden circle around his pupil would overtake the glow, as if the sun was setting. On the others, the greenish-grey would remind her of the depths of the forest, away from prying eyes.

     Now, his eyes were dark, shadows covering the golden circle and the calming green. It made him look unfamiliar. Her mind suddenly went empty and she was left with a realisation that her twin brother was supposed to be dead. And with that fear, which finally grew in her chest, she outstretched her hand against the man who was holding her throat and tried to pull him away.

     The murderous man didn't move an inch from her, making him exhale in mockery. For an intruder that ruined everything, she was unbelievably weak. And now, judging from Stefan's reaction, this woman got in the wrong place, the wrong time, and he wasn't the one for mercy. Not when it included the ritual.

     Stefan looked at his sister as she looked exactly as he remembered her, only more terrified. Her blond hair was a mess, knots spread out unevenly, a few leaves residing in her waves. Her wide eyes, usually so calm, now were bloodshot with fear and terror. Chapped lips were opening and closing, as if she was trying to say something, but couldn't get a word out.

      Ophelia Salvatore was supposed to be dead.

      "Stefan," she breathed out and it was all that it took for him the roughly push the hybrid away from her. He quickly wrapped his hands around his sister, gently squeezing her as if to find out that she was real. His wide eyes met Klaus', who surprisingly was looking at them with a calm expression.