❝ blood trail! ❞
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HER SIBLINGS HAD, in their own way, accepted her. For one, she now lived in the mansion, in a room that belonged solely to her. Freya welcomed the change with open arms, more than happy with what some considered to be a simple thing.
Klaus was never in the same room with her, Kol didn't even acknowledge her presence, and Elijah was civil and generous. Out of all of them, Rebekah had been the kindest and open.
The blonde was considerate and gentle, teaching her the modern ways of the world. She was patient and did her best to make Freya feel at home. When she first moved in, Rebekah insisted on helping her decorate and furnish her bedroom.
But there was a sadness under the surface.
It was a misery palpable in the quietude of the mansion, one that affected each and every single one of them. It was always quiet in the halls, not the slightest bit of chatter, void even of laughter or light-hearted chuckles.
There was nothing light-hearted about the atmosphere.
The paintings on the wall and the furnitures had enough color to fill in a kaleidoscope, and yet it was a series of the darkest of black and greyscales that met whoever entered. It created an embodiment of grief and mourning that made Freya tentative to even speak of her name.
The eldest Mikaelson never had the pleasure of meeting the enigma that is Rosalie Monet, which meant that she barely knew her apart from her close relationships to her siblings. She knew that she had been a lover of Niklaus, and a dear friend to Elijah, Kol, and Rebekah. She knew of her Divinity from Dahlia.
But aside from that information, Freya couldn't place a personality on the pale-faced beauty she had caught a glimpse of.
The blonde did her best to help by providing information, which wasn't exactly received with open arms. Since then, Freya stayed out of everyone's way, mostly reading or practicing simple spells to test her skills.
She was tempted to go outside and explore, but it probably wouldn't be a good decision given that she didn't know the streets well. Besides, Kol would probably find a way to accuse her of conspiring against them.
The thought of asking Rebekah to accompany her filled her with guilt, given how lifeless and miserable she was most of the time, something she didn't hide as well as she thought she did.
And so, Freya was left to her own devices, at a reasonable distance from the people that was now her family.
Which was exactly why it was surprising to witness Niklaus Mikaelson enter the room.
He looked rugged and tired in a way that was supposed to be impossible for an immortal. Exhausted pools of blue, dark cresent under eyes, overgrown stubble covering cheeks, unruly blond hairㅡall pieced together created the portrait of a soulless man. Freya frowned, suddenly worried given his distressed state. "When was the last time you ateㅡ?"
"What do you want?" He demanded, voice rough and low. She only blinked at his question. Klaus repeated himself, his hands curling into fists at his sides, "What do you want from this family, Freya?"
"Love. Acceptance." She immediately replied, not even thinking about her answer. The blonde shrugged, "Call it what you want, I just want to be a part of this family."
"I don't have love to give." Klaus chuckled dryly, in a way that was almost self-deprecating. "You want acceptance? Help me with this one thing, and I will gladly accept you in this family."
It wasn't everyday that the Original Hybrid asked for help, a fact that was both flattering and terrifying. For outsiders, it would have been a daunting task that was potentially life threatening. Failure or refusal could mean death.
But Freya only saw him as her younger brother, who was hurting and in need of her assistance. Even if he didn't offer acceptance or anything, the blonde would have helped him regardless. This family thing was new to her, but there was an ingrained sense of protectiveness for her siblings.
"Of course." She nodded, "Name what you need."
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SOMEWHERE IN NORTHERN ITALY
sometime in the 1100's
The news of a serial murderer had spread through the country like wildfire. The people were on edge, paranoid and fearful for knowing next to nothing about the killer except for what he was capable of.
Not even a cycle of the full moon had been completed, and yet eleven villages had been burned to ashes, its inhabitants slaughtered with no survivors left to tell the tale. The people called the killer La SanguisugaㅡThe Bloodsucker, for the way his victims were almost always drained of their blood.
Some believed the killer was a soldier from Hell, sent to purge the world of sinners, always taking and punishing. It brought forth mass hysteria, causing people to fill every inch of their homes with crucifixes and hang clusters of garlic using twine, as though it would keep evil away.
It was almost laughable.
And he would have laughed at their futile efforts if he wasn't so numb, free from succumbing to any heartbreak. He considered it a blessing to be this unfeeling, a marginal improvement from melancholy.
How could one feel heartbreak if one could feel nothing at all?
It was better this way.
His parents and the world had made him this harsh and cruel. No one was born evil, it was created; and Esther Mikaelson created a ruthless immortal that now had no qualms with slaughtering his way through Italy.
It wasn't like he craved chaos in the first place. But when he chose to have peace with her, it wasn't something he was given. If they stopped him from going to heaven with her, then there was no other choice but to bring hell to them.
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
The streets were an endless maze of darkness, a labyrinth she ran through with her lover in the silence of the night. It was eerie how quiet it was, save for their pants and footsteps. It was the quietude that was more unnerving, the knowledge that someone was watching all while remaining incognito.
Death was lurking around the corner, and it would catch up if they slowed down.
Surely, she knew this moment would come.
There was nothing more terrifying in the supernatural world than the wrath of the Original Hybrid, and Persephone Orient was the first name on his list of people to kill.
The anticipation and paranoia was torture on its own. Never knowing who to trust, never knowing if one of his lackeys were following you, always sleeping with one eye open, endless looks thrown over shouldersㅡit was all a part of the psychological game he inflicted on those who dared to cross him.
And she had just committed a sin of immense consequence.
Some of his enemies ran for years, even decades, trying to escape his hold, as he liked to make them believe. It's only been a couple of days, not even a week in, but the panic was driving them crazy.
Surely, she knew there was no escaping this.
But still, Persephone ran with her lover.
Was it even worth it?
The night air bit into her skin as she bit her lip, glancing at the panicked face of the woman she loved. Was this a better fate than what Myknos threatened them with?
It didn't matterㅡthere was nowhere they could go, no distance they could travel, none would save them from the wrath of Niklaus Mikaelson.
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
"Klaus, please!" Persephone screeched, her feet dragging on the floor as he held her up and brought her into the spacious room. She didn't know how, but there was a force that prevented her from doing magic. A blonde woman assisted Klaus, placing something that felt like cool metal on her wrists. As soon as the shackles were attached to her wrists, she tried to tug on them.
Seeing as it held her upright, it was probably attached to the roof. The chains were reminiscent to the ones that held Klaus down a few evenings ago on that very night.
The brunette was met with the face of her captor in the dim light, looking far too menacing for such beautiful features. A bolt of fear struck through her heart, adrenaline pumping through her veins.
"Klaus," she breathed out, voice trembling, a tell of how terrified she was at that moment. Though, he could read her emotions like an open book just from listening to her heart rate. "Please, have mercy."
He chuckled darkly. "You dare to speak to me of mercy?"
"What would Rosㅡ"
In a flash, his hand came up to grip her neck, applying pressure that had her gasping for air. "Keep her name out of your mouth, before I tear your vocal cords from your throat."
Klaus looked at her with so much disgust, eyes dark and threatening. "Oh, how I'd relish in removing your tongue for all the lies you told. Or maybe I should just peel your skin off. There are so many things I could painfully remove, I could never decide." Apathetically, he asked, "You understand, don't you?"
"A little help, Freya." He said to no one apparent.
Her lover Isabel was unconscious, being dragged in the light by the same blonde woman from earlier. Soon, she too, hung from the ceiling with chains.
"Wait, wait," Persephone choked out. "What are you doing?"
"Keeping my promise." Klaus grinned, wickedly. "You had no qualms taking her from me, so you're going to watch as I return the favor."
"Klaus, please, I'm begging you." Persephone sobbed, the reality of everything hitting her fully.
The hand on her throat tightened to the point that his fingernails left half moon cresents on her skin. "Unless you want me to gouge your eyes out, you're going to witness everything I do to your lover. You're going to watch, knowing there's nothing you can do to stop it."
Persephone looked into his eyes, the very ones that once looked at her with fondness and a type of familial affection; both of which felt like a million years away faced with this version of him. This wasn't Nik the family man, or Niklaus the kind friend. This was Klaus Mikaelson, the Original Hybrid.
Past the blank, uncaring facade, there was only pure, unbridled hatred in his eyes. This was cruelty and vindictiveness, this was someone who couldn't be reasoned with. This was the creature that tore through villages and left nothing but a trail of blood, this was the one that struck fear and terror in people's hearts; and there was no one more unlucky than the person he set his sights on.
"You should feel honored, really," he mused humorlessly, starting to walk away from Persephone. "Because everything I do will redefine the word 'sadistic'."
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
Blood trickled down to the cobblestone, a trail of crimson liquid that led to his shoes. It was all over him, seeping through the fabric of his pants and suspended as droplets in his hair.
Despite his gruesome state, Klaus walked calmly, though there was a tension in him that kept Freya walking a step behind.
Once she had done the things he asked for, the blonde witch stepped out of the room and did her best to block out thoughts of what was happening inside. It was probably a horrible thing to think about how grateful she was that she thought of making the room soundproof. She knew he was committing torture of unspeakable proportions, but seeing him walk out dripping in blood had shocked her to the core.
'Keep them inside,' was all he said before he started walking away. The order was enough to let Freya know that they were still alive, something that drained the blood from her face. It almost made her pity them, because it must have taken great skill and knowledge to torture someone to get to the point of being covered in blood yourself, and yet the receipients remained breathing.
It was never a good thing to disappoint the hybrid, but even more so at that moment. In a haste, Freya followed after him when she had sealed the area off to outsiders.
Together, they silently braved the road back to the mansion.
Freya was lost in her own thoughts, simply trailing behind Klaus like the blood that stained his footsteps. There were a million questions that popped in her mind, but didn't even think of voicing them out. Soon enough, they were crossing the path that led back to the Mikaelson mansion.
His hand left blood on the door knob as they stepped through the entrance, where an unknowing Rebekah was waiting. Like her brother, she looked just as exhausted and far too weary for an immortal.
"Nik!" The blonde blinked at her brother, openly gaping at his bloodied figure in utter bafflement. She made eye contact with Freya over his shoulder, who simply remained quiet with a grim expression.
Freya gently shook her head discreetly, signalling that it was no time for queries.
In the years they had spent together, Rebekah had witnessed him slaughter people in many brutal ways. When he was feeling generous, he did it quickly without a regard; sometimes he dragged it out, lasting for days and even weeks; but when the person was more rebelious and threw threats, he took things even further. The blonde had heard him say more than once that there was nothing that could kill him, yet she wasn't so certain about it.
A part of him died with his beloved every century, and this time, Rebekah truly believed the old Nik was buried six feet under.
Maybe the pain was too unbearable, maybe the anxiety had pushed him over the edgeㅡwhatever the reason was, this was not the brother who loved art and made her gifts.
Rebekah, along with Freya, stood there watching him step through the threshold, leaving red footsteps in his wake. She didn't know what to say or do, the worry for him only growing tenfold.
But none of that mattered.
It happened slowly, the realization of it creeping in their senses; but it was there, behind all the walls and doors of the mansion's upper floor. Klaus halted midstep, and the words died in Rebekah's throat. The trio of siblings were rendered into statues as they heard it:
The vague, cloudy sound of a heart beating.
author's note!
blame the cliffhanger
on my pending exams🥲
i'll prolly update in
three decades with how
many requirements i have
to do jciabxoendbd
i hope you're all doing well <3
❝ be kind. ❞
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thank you!