this is where i'll be waiting for you ➳ klaus mikaelson [ the vampire diaries ]

1.9 | a reflection of the author (revised)

question of the chapter: which mikaelson would you choose to be friends with?

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When Astoria's eyes fluttered open the next day, she had almost forgotten the events of the night before. Or every night after her birthday. She woke up wrapped in a warm blanket, her head pressed against a soft pillow and her back laying on the comfortable bed that she had in her room upstairs. For only a split second, Astoria thought there was nothing wrong. Then it hit her.

She fell asleep downstairs in the living room. She never walked up to her bed. And her room was too warm. When she sat up, she saw the flames in the fireplace across from her bed. Flames she didn't light. Astoria quickly pushed the blanket off her body, throwing her legs over the side and noticing something else she didn't do. Her feet were covered in wool socks that she never remembered putting on. She didn't even think she owned a pair.

Astoria reached for the drawer in her nightstand, pulling it open slowly and reaching under some things to grab a sharp knife that she kept there. She wrapped her hand around the handle and pulled it out, slowly creeping towards her open bedroom door and into the hall. Unless she somehow went to town, bought a pair of socks, came back, went upstairs, lit a fire, and climes into her bed in her sleep, someone else had been in the house. Someone who could still be here.

Katherine taught her how to protect herself and hired people to train her. But Astoria had never actually had to defend herself against an attacker. No one has ever tried and even if they did, Astoria always had someone to protect her. She headed down the hall until she reached the staircase. She paused for a moment, gripping the knife tightly before she began to head down the stairs. As she made her way, the smell of freshly baked bread and cinnamon hit her nose, causing her to frown. Once she reached the bottom, she made her way into the kitchen, her heart beating faster in her chest as she followed the scent. She peered inside when she came to the doorway, seeing the kitchen table filled with different plates and bowls of food. Her eyebrows furrowed at the breakfast feast before her, but when she saw the man at the head of the table, it all made sense.

"What the hell are you doing here, Klaus?" Astoria scowled, seeing him sitting with a cup of what looked like coffee in one hand and a journal in the other. Whatever he was reading seemed to please him, but Astoria wasn't worried about that.

She wasn't expecting to see Klaus today, especially not as soon as she woke up, and not in her house uninvited. Which meant he must've killed the woman across the street that Katherine had compelled to own the house. She had to quickly get into character.

"You have been selling yourself short, Astoria," Klaus commented."Selling your clothes and jewelry, looking for work, when you clearly have a talent in writing. Any publisher would die to get their hands on this. I quite like this Stefan character."

"Are you reading my stories!" Astoria exclaimed, dropping the knife on the table and hurrying over to him, quickly snatching the journal that she was writing in out of his hands."You are not to read these. No one is."

"But literature these days is so dull and boring," Klaus let out a frustrated sigh that Astoria was sure meant to mock her. He was a centuries old, he wasn't going to impressed by the writings of a twenty year old.

"You have some nerve," Astoria scowled, closing the journal and hugging it tightly against her chest."Coming into my home, into my room, putting socks on my feet, reading my stories. Does privacy mean nothing to you?"

"If I hadn't, you would've froze to death," Klaus defended his actions."Laying in the winter with no heat, no blanket, no coat. You are lucky I decided to come here. Now, stop complaining and being ungrateful. Sit and eat."