❝ fire on fire! ❞
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
IT WAS THE SUDDEN URGE to cough that eventually woke her, and she did so in a violent motion. As she coughed her lungs out, Rosalie was vaguely aware of someone rubbing her back, one she identified as Rebekah Mikaelson. "You're safe," the blonde kept repeating, sounding winded herself.
The Monet didn't even know where she was or what happened. Before she could think of possibilities, one intake of air had given her the answer, and one glance at the side had it confirmed.
The small building was aflame, though there was something strange about it because the fire never seemed to leave the interior. The windows were cracked, some were fully broken, shards of glass scattered all over. Smoke escaped from every crevice, yet the source remained inside.
The display of magic was overwhelming, so she looked away, directing her sights to the trees. The greenery was a much more calming view, until she detected movementㅡjust a blur of limbs. Rosalie was only half certain that she was imagining the blond man running towards her.
"Are you hurt? Can you tell me your siblings' names, love?" He instantly asked, worried she might be far too disoriented, or that she'd have a concussion.
Niklaus Mikaelson was knelt in front of her, his hands cupping the sides of her face, though they were only barely touching ever. Even then, she felt them shaking. He was so worried, eyes wide with an emotion she could not recognize. She blinked, thinking about his question.
"Aㅡ" she choked, bursting in a coughing fit when she tried to speak. Nik was fussing over her in an instant, telling her comforting lines and rubbing her back. Unconsciously, Rosalie leaned into him, her body molding to his side as she tiredly sighed. Feeling dizzy, the Monet closed her eyes and sagged against him.
"You're okay, I've got you," he kept mumbling, still drawing mindless shapes on her back in such a soothing manner. Eventually, she whispered, as much as she could, "Alaska. Jacob."
He shifted his hold on her. Then, he was hugging her, and she felt everything all at once. It was like someone poured warm honey all over her, and her shock was fading as quickly as her resolve. Her breath hitched, feeling warmth everywhere. It was probably a bad time to recall it, but she truly believed the warmth was much greater than the flames she just escaped.
All because of him.
Before she could even say something, he mumbled above her, in a wavering voice. "Please." His arms tightened slightly, "Please let me hug you. Just for a moment."
Rosalie gulped, not knowing what to do, or what she felt, upon seeing him in such a distressed state. After some time, the brunette relaxed into him, melting in his embrace. With it, his thundering heartbeat slowly returned back to normal.
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
"I'm about to murder Dr Smalldickㅡ"
Kol paced back and forth, hands on his hips. The groupㅡRosalie, Nik, and Rebekahㅡwent back to the Mikaelsons' mansion, where Kol was left to watch over Willow. There had been an unspoken agreement between Rosalie and the Mikaelsons that there would always be someone watching over the girl. It made Rosalie think about Camille's words, about how Willow was becoming an adopted daughter to her; but that was another thought for another day.
For now, the Monet would have to deal with another trauma (the fire at the clinic) and a gathering of Original vampires.
"It's Chadwick, Kol." Rebekah rolled her eyes. The blonde was sat beside Rosalie on one of the more spacious couches in the lounge room. The pair both looked tired, weary and worn down from stress. Though they had changed their clothes (Rebekah lending Rosalie a loose blouse and what she called trousers), the soot from their former outfits haunted them.
"Who cares what his name is?" Kol barely paused from his antics. "He's still about to die very, very slowly and painfully."
"Can you stop talking about murder for a minute? You're killing my mood." Persephone glared at him, an emotion contrasted by her languid position on the antique settee.
"No." The Mikaelson deadpanned, "I cannot."
"Stop bickering, " Elijah silenced them, followed by a quick survey of the room. "Where's Willow?"
"Sleeping upstairs." Kol replied.
"Alright. Let's get down to business." Suddenly, Elijah's attention turned to the Monet, "There was an attack on the night of the festival."
"What?" Rosalie was startled by the news. It had been such a frustrating, but peaceful night for her that it came as a surprise something violent had taken place.
"It happened just after you leftㅡ"
"Thank God!" Kol exclaimed, dramatically falling on the couch, in the space between Rebekah and Rosalie. "Do you know how difficult it is to get blood off clothing? I wouldn't know either, I have servants to do my laundry."
"I've been trying to establish peace with the humans," Elijah continued, acting as though Kol had never spoken at all. "But their leader might be a problem. She knew there would be many vampires in attendance, and yet she dared to pull a stunt."
"I've told you countless times that she's far too suspicious." Klaus reasoned, knowing from the very beginning that there was something suspicious about Francesca Guerrera.
"Marcel should stick to his side of the agreement, which, speaking of, where is he?" Rebekah asked, frowning. "He's partially responsible for this mess."
Rosalie zoned out of the conversation, watching Nik standing over the makeshift alcohol bar. It was nothing fancy, just a small mahogany table topped with an assortment of crystal bottles containing different colored liquids. What caught her eye, however, was the way he rolled up the sleeves. He folded the black long sleeve up to his elbows, revealing the bluish veins under his defined forearms. Once he was done, the blond poured clear liquid into a glass. Rosalie's mind flickered back to when those arms were wrapped around her, making a blush trail up her neck. Her gaze trailed up to his face, which held a look of concentration.
It was criminal how someone could look so attractive.
He's more than a thousand years old, half werewolf, half vampire, probably killed thousands of peopleㅡhe's deadly, he's cruel and manipulative, he's a liar. Niklaus Mikaelson was the villain.
Rosalie tried to convince herself he was a horrible individual, but was struck with the thought that she didn't have anything to back up the claims of people around her. When had he actually displayed such tendencies? The Monet was certain she'd have seen red flags early on, if there were any.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the man in question kneeled before her, offering the glass, and her gaze was suddenly fixated on his lips. "It's water." Nik said.
"Thank you." She managed to mutter as she accepted it. His gaze scanned her face, a frown overtaking his lips. "You're bleeding. Hold on."
All his attention made her self-conscious, his ocean eyes acting like the most hypnotic spotlights. She didn't even notice her nose was bleeding until he himself called attention to it. The blond had already disappeared in a flash, returning with a napkin. Nik placed it under her nose, his other hand going to support her jaw.
"It's why I went to the doctor," Rosalie murmured, lowly so as to stay in the bubble of quiet they found themselves in. There were other people talking in the room, but they may as well be absent from the way they faded into the background.
"I've been having this headaches and nosebleeds," the Monet continued. "I thought they would eventually go away, but it's just getting worse."
She chuckled weakly. Her gaze trailed to his eyes, so blue and focused on her. Rosalie touched his hand, halting his actions. She was hyperaware of the light touches he placed on the back of her neck. When his palm trailed from her jaw to her nape, she couldn't recall. Slowly, she pulled it down to rest on her lap. "Do I still have it?" Rosalie asked.
Nik swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing harshly. "Have what?"
"Blood."
The word seemed to snap him back to reality. "No," he leaned back on his heels before standing up. "You're all good."
The blond tried to mask how flustered he was with indifference. He walked back to the makeshift bar, his back facing everyone. If Kol caught a glimpse of his state, he'd never hear the end of his younger brother's teasing.
"ㅡsomething about a key." Elijah finished his speech, as it seemed because he was looking expectantly at the group.
Rosalie paled, trying to maintain her unbothered expression as she hid the fact that the said key was likely dangling from one of her necklaces. The Monet took a long gulp of water.
It was going to be a long day.
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
It wasn't long before Willow was awake, blearily rubbing her eyes as she crawled on Rosalie's lap. The kid threw her arms around the latter's neck, sinking into a warm embrace.
"Hey, sweetheart," the brunette whispered in her blonde curls before kissing her cheek. "Did you have a good nap?"
Willow, still groggy with sleep, nodded. She buried her face into Rosalie's neck. The way the Monet gently stroked her hair was lulling her back to sleep. After a while, the blonde pulled back. Willow asked if she could stay for a little longer at the Mikaelsons, and who was Rosalie to deny those pleading, blue eyes of hers?
It was 'movie night,' as Kol had suddenly claimed, while he and Rebekah dug through the kitchen for junk food. Even Elijah had agreed to join in. It was only five in the afternoon, but no one cared. Rosalie remembered how she, Alaska, and Caroline had movie nights as kids, the memories of it warming her that she eventually agreed to the idea after checking on Fiji.
She'd hired a dog walker to take him on strolls in the morning, so he'd get his daily exercise. He always had food and water on standby. There was nothing that could go wrong with Fiji in her apartment, but why did it feel otherwise?
Nik offered to accompany her, and just as they stepped over the threshold, he stilled. Rosalie bumped into his back, but before she could ask, he glanced over his shoulder to look at her. He tapped his index finger over his lips, signalling her to keep quiet.
The Monet gulped, nodding. He was a thousand-year-old vampire-werewolf hybrid. If he felt something was off, then something was off. The blond subtly extended an arm in front of her, ready to push her behind him should there be a threat.
Nik could tell there was blood somewhere, but there was something strange about how it smelledㅡold and something else he couldn't pinpoint.
The lights weren't on, and given that it was still a bit early, the setting sun still streamed through the curtains. It gave the room a dim atmosphere, one that was starting to creep Rosalie out. The Monet was on edge, terrified and alert at the same time.
Nik took a step further in the foyer, his heightened senses knowing something was wrong and someone was here. By instinct, Rosalie followed his lead, staying close as he'd instructed.
And, indeed, his senses were correct. A middle-aged woman with brown hair was sitting in the living room, half her features shrouded in shadows. "May I just say how glad I am to see the happy couple?" She said, as though they were lost friends.
The pair remained unmoving, with Niklaus assessing everything about this woman.
"Niklaus. Thora." The strange woman greeted with open arms. "What, after all these years, you're not going to greet me?"
His hackles rose when her name was spoken, a bout of protectiveness fueling his veins. Who was this woman, and how the fuck did she know about them? His hand fell to Rosalie's hip bone, carefully blocking her from sight. The touch alone told the Monet to lay low, which she did so without arguments. She trusted him enough for that.
"If you don't say who you are and why you're here," the hybrid spat out, "I'm going to remove your tongue, and feed it to you."
"There's no need for foul language now." She had the audacity to sound amused, sinking further into the couch. "I'm offended you can't recognize your own aunt. Though I'm certain you don't remember me from your childhood. Pity."
"What do you want?" Klaus growled.
His 'aunt' scoffed as her gaze hardened. She stood up, saying, "Don't take me for a fool. Where is it?"
"What?" Nik's grip on Rosalie tightened slightly, anxious to take her far away from the lunatic they were faced with.
"The child."
Under other circumstances, he would've rolled his eyes at the idiocy. "A little bit of specificity wouldn't hurt."
"Your first-born, Niklaus." The woman deadpanned like it was obvious, "I'm talking about your child."
author's note!
things are about to
get real. I'm really curious:
do you have any
predictions or hopes
for the plot?
what do you think of
the story so far?
stay safe and hydrated,
belated happy new year!!🥳
❝ be kind. ❞
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