𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, klaus mikaelson

[ CHAPTER FIFTY ]

Tauntingly twisting and turning the dagger, the moonlight reflected brightly against its ash-coated steel.

"You really are one delusional bitch aren't you?" Astrid couldn't help the pretentious giggle that left her lips.

It seemed her words had affected Aubrianne as the redhead scowled. "Watch your words." She snapped as Astrid smirked.

"Oh, I see. Did my words offend you? Did they shatter your false sense of confidence? You have my sincerest apologies, Anne." Astrid giggled as the redhead's hand tightened around the dagger.

"Maybe you haven't changed as much as I thought. When I look at you, I see a weak, pathetic slave. You were so... Naïve back then, thinking we were friends, thinking I actually cared about you. Why would I? You were nothing but a means to an end, an abused little mouse who flinched at her own shadow." The words poured from Astrid's lips without hesitation as Aubrianne's light iris' darkened.

If she used the dagger it would only end in her untimely demise and Klaus would find her, but perhaps if she taunted Aubrianne enough, she'd catch the redhead who was no doubt almost as strong as herself off guard. 

Perhaps it was the darkness that fogged her vision, but it almost seemed as Aubrianne was fighting back tears.

The thought made Astrid snort.

"You were once someone dear to me till you betrayed me, betrayed us all. You left us to die, to be hunted. I swear I will make you suffer as I did." Aubrianne accused, pointing a dainty finger at Astrid, causing the latter to arch her brows.

It was almost as if Aubrianne actually cared about Astrid. "Oh, sweet Anne-"

"Don't you dare call me that!" Aubrianne snarled, shaking her head as copper tendrils splashed down her back.

Astrid simply smiled sweetly. "You never meant anything to me. You were a pathetic human who was so overwhelmed at the thought of someone actually liking her. I cared more for the hunting dogs than I ever cared for you. You are nothing."

"Now, enough of the monologuing. Why don't you get on with it? You haven't become any more interesting over the years, still the same old boring Aubrianne."

Jaw clenched, Aubrianne's fingers were clenched so tightly around the dagger her entire hand had paled.

"And what of you Astrid? Not the same old Astrid, as it goes." She nodded towards Marcel, who Astrid clutched tighter.

Noticing this, the redhead let out a laugh. "I may have been a pathetic human but look at you. You're the pathetic one, looking after a pet, replacing the son you so desperately mourn."

Astrid could feel her body shaking as she gently laid Marcel down on the ground.

All her patience had slowly evaporated into the air as she stood, standing chin-to-chin with the taller woman across from her.

"Say that again." She challenged calmly.

Knowing she'd touched the nerve, Aubrianne still wasn't done. She wanted to slice the nerve in half, till Astrid's emotions and grief crumbled down like a stone wall.

"Why not change Marcel's name to Ivar, because that's what you're doing, aren't you? Replacing him, tarnishing the memory of poor little Ivar, with Marcel. I mean you could have picked one with more likeliness to yourself and Nik, I mean don't get me started on the skin colour, little blue, breathless Ivar looks nothing of the muddy coloured Marcel-"

Astrid's hand snatched forward, tightening around the redhead's throat. She could feel the tip of the dagger poking into her chest, millimetres away from penetrating her skin.