CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE SERRATURA
"Someday, I hope you'll let me show you what real love is."
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
The silence that followed Tristan's threat was tense and uncomfortable. Henrik was acutely aware of Francis behind him, aware that he was barely breathing, barely moving, his body tense. He was fully prepared to disappear if anyone in that room made a move toward him. Without thinking, Henrik reached behind him, locking his hand around Francis's wrist. Henrik knew that if Francis ran—even if he had a good reason to, since his family was far from reasonable—they would see it as a sign of guilt. Unfortunately, the only movement in the otherwise still room gained Elijah's attention. His eyes rested on Henrik before they shifted over his shoulder. Immediately, Elijah's face hardened, his jaw clenching. Henrik tightened his grip around Francis's wrist when he felt Francis start to lean away from him, trying to tell him to stay where he was, silently asking Francis to trust him.
"And just what are you still doing here?" Elijah demanded. Francis went still again, and Henrik heard him give a small, indignant huff. Henrik squeezed his wrist in warning.
"Elijah," Henrik warned, frowning when Elijah continued to stare Francis down. He had no doubt in his mind that Francis wasn't looking away from Elijah, was meeting his gaze with as much arrogance as possible. It was just the way Francis was.
"You've always kept remarkable company, Henrik," Elijah said dryly, making Henrik scowl. He had about a million responses floating through his head to that, but he decided to swallow all of them. Lashing out at Elijah wouldn't do anyone any good.
"Don't talk to me like that," was what he decided to say instead. Elijah finally glanced away from Francis, probably just then realizing what he had said to Henrik. He opened his mouth, looking regretful, but Henrik hurried on. "We'll get Hayley back, Elijah, but don't talk to me like that. You're not Nik. Don't act like him." Elijah closed his mouth. He still looked regretful, and even a bit ashamed. Henrik would be the first to admit that Elijah was judgmental—truth be told, his entire family was, including himself—but Elijah usually kept his words to himself. Elijah was the first person Henrik had admitted his feelings for Francis to, so it hurt to know that Elijah was also the first one to voice something negative about it, despite the dire circumstances.
"I didn't have anything to do with this," Francis said suddenly, breaking the solemn silence. He tugged at his arm and Henrik let go of his wrist. Francis stepped around Henrik and stopped so that they were standing side by side. "I already told Henrik. The Strix stopped telling me their plans until the last possible second months ago." Elijah still looked doubtful, and Francis heaved an exasperated sigh. "If I had a hand in any of this, do you honestly believe I'd still be here? That I'd risk his wrath?" No one had to ask who Francis was referring to; he had tilted his head in Henrik's direction. Henrik was pleasantly surprised. Usually people feared his family's wrath long before they feared his own. "I've only seen a fraction of what he can do, but it was more than enough. If you think I'm that stupid, then you vastly underestimate my intelligence and my sense of self-preservation. And I can assure you, I have plenty of both."
Freya was the first to move after Francis's words. She shifted and tilted her head, looking at Francis thoughtfully. A moment later, she met Henrik's gaze. She looked impressed, approving. She even managed a small smile despite the situation. Henrik wasn't used to such support, especially not so quickly, so he could do nothing but stare as Elijah seemed to think Francis's words over.
"And I'm simply supposed to believe," Elijah drawled, gaining everyone's attention once again, "that you're here out of the goodness of your heart?" Francis raised his eyebrows, and then he flashed a smile that made Henrik tense and shoot his brother a wary look.
"My heart hardly has any goodness left in it," Francis said, still smiling. Henrik, knowing that wasn't true, felt a sudden swarm of exasperation. He briefly closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Francis was trying to rile Elijah up even more, which wasn't helping the situation. "I'm here for him." Francis glanced at Henrik then, still smiling. The wink he shot Henrik made him roll his eyes and sigh, glancing away. "And Freya, who, frankly, I'm liking much more than you right now." A muscle twitched in Elijah's jaw. Henrik could practically see steam start to pour out of his ears.
"Honestly, Henrik," he said at last through gritted teeth, glancing at Henrik. "Out of all your options, you chose him?" Henrik glared.
"If you weren't so rude, he wouldn't be nearly this awful toward you," Henrik pointed out.
"He's right," Francis said, making Henrik sigh again. "I'm known to be quite friendly."
"Are we forgetting," Freya cut in, sounding impatient, "that the Strix have Hayley and are going to kill her?" There was a beat of tense, guilty silence. Henrik grimaced. Francis cleared his throat, uncomfortable.
"I don't know much about what they're planning," he said, shooting another glance at Henrik, though this one looked apologetic. "But I can tell you one thing. Tristan keeps his word. He did take after the one we're descended from, Elijah." It was easy for Henrik to forget that Francis was from Elijah's bloodline. He shot a glance at his brother and saw that he was glaring at Francis coldly. "Show up at the address and Hayley will be fine. Well, as fine as she can be, considering." At that, Francis glanced down at the box still on the table. Henrik frowned.
"And walk right into a trap?" That was the stranger standing behind Elijah, who up until now had been completely silent. Henrik glanced at him. Francis just raised an eyebrow.
"Are you truly telling me that two Originals and three powerful witches can't take out the Strix?" Francis drawled, tilting his head in an impossibly condescending way. "Color me disappointed." It was clearly meant as a jab toward Elijah, because his eyes were right on Elijah's face when he said it. Henrik smacked him in the stomach with the back of his hand; he felt nothing but hard muscle when he did.
"Stop antagonizing him," Henrik ordered. Francis offered him a shrug, eyes still glued to Elijah's face. Elijah looked like he was trying very hard not to throw Francis through a wall.
"I would," Francis said, "if he stopped looking at me like that. Like I'm the cause for all the suffering in the world."
"I don't trust you," Elijah said bluntly. Henrik shot a look toward the ceiling. "You're a member of the Strix, a willing follower of Tristan de Martel—" Henrik grimaced, knowing it wasn't very willing at all, while Francis's temper spiked. The carefully crafted amusement on his face instantly disappeared.
"Big words coming from the person who created the organization and Tristan," he snapped.
"Enough," Henrik said sharply, shooting Elijah a warning glare when he opened his mouth before turning his gaze on Francis. Francis locked his jaw and glanced away, glaring instead at the coffee table. Henrik waited a few seconds, making sure neither of them were going to start going at each other's throats again, before he let out a soft sigh and glanced at the four people around him. "We need a plan. Also, who the hell are you?" He rounded on the dark-skinned stranger then, scowling. The man looked surprised for a moment before dipping his head toward Henrik and placing a hand on his chest—a sign of respect. Henrik blinked in surprise, his scowl falling from his face.
"Vincent Griffith," he introduced, dipping his head again. Henrik immediately relaxed. He knew that name. "I've heard a lot about you, Henrik Mikaelson." Henrik raised his eyebrows, then smiled. It was a small one, but relaxed, almost gentle.
"Not all bad, I hope," he said. Vincent made a sound of amusement, then opened his mouth to say something else. He was interrupted by Klaus, who had appeared at the top of the stairs, shouting for Henrik. Henrik let out a breath of exasperation and turned to look up at him. "What?" he demanded, not bothering to raise his voice. Klaus could hear just fine. "I already told you that—"
"I need you to do something for me," Klaus interrupted impatiently. "A spell." Henrik glared.
"What kind of spell?" he demanded, but Klaus was already gone. Henrik made a sound of exasperation and turned toward Francis, ignoring the other three people now talking amongst themselves. "Behave," Henrik ordered. He didn't wait for Francis's response. He just turned and headed for the stairs.
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
"This is a horrible idea." Even as Henrik said the words, he continued to slide the chalk across the hardwood floor, around the small sitting area in Klaus's bedroom, which was clean of any broken furniture. Klaus was inside the half-circle Henrik was drawing, pouring blood into a glass and leaving the blood bag on the table beside it. Once he was done, he stepped back outside of the circle and watched as Henrik's chalk pressed against the brick wall. Both ends of the chalk ended on either side of the fireplace. He climbed to he feet and shot Klaus an ugly look. "Nik, you can't force Cami to turn."
"She'll thank me later," Klaus dismissed, eyes glued to the opposite wall. The vacant look in his eyes was the only reason Henrik hadn't said no to casting the spell. Klaus was unstable, and it was better to obey an unstable Klaus than to defy him. Still, that didn't stop Henrik from arguing about it, didn't stop him from trying to make Klaus see some sense.
"Of course," Henrik said bitterly. "Just like I thanked Esther when she took my choice away, right?" Klaus didn't respond, though Henrik did notice his mouth twist at the mention of Henrik's resurrection. Henrik played with the container of salt he was holding, eyeing Klaus thoughtfully, before he let out a soft sigh. "Nik, I know you're upset, but think about this. When has forcing the people you love to do something ever worked out for you?" Again, Klaus didn't respond. Desperate, Henrik tried one last time and said, "She'll hate you if you do this."
"Maybe," Klaus agreed, "but at least she'll be alive." Henrik stared at him for a moment before he sighed and started pouring the salt along the chalk line. It fell into place without Henrik even having to try, and no words left his mouth has he set up the boundary spell. Once it was done, a small amount of pressure pushed through the room. It didn't affect Henrik, though he saw Klaus frown, unsettled. Henrik turned toward him with his arms crossed over his chest. When Klaus didn't say anything, Henrik rolled his eyes, tossed the container of salt on the bed—he hadn't bothered to close it, so salt spilled across Klaus's bedspread—and then turned toward the door.
"If you disapprove so much," Klaus snapped, his temper spiking, "then why are you helping me?" Henrik threw his arms in the air in exasperation and turned back toward Klaus.
"Maybe because I learned a long time ago not to say no to you when you're in this kind of mood!" he snapped. Something flashed across Klaus's face and was gone before Henrik could read it. There was a moment of silence, and then Klaus sucked in a deep breath.
"This morning," Klaus started, "when you walked in—" A swarm of discomfort went through Henrik. He didn't want to remember that chair soaring through the air toward him. He didn't want to remember the fear he felt when he saw Klaus's eyes land on Francis. He didn't want to remember any of it.
"We don't have to talk about it," Henrik said immediately, though his true feelings came through with how fast the words came out, with how tense he suddenly was. Klaus frowned at him.
"I didn't see you," Klaus continued, as if Henrik hadn't even spoken. Henrik's jaw clenched. "I didn't hear you coming. I wouldn't have thrown anything in your direction if I had known—"
"The spell is easy to break," Henrik interrupted again. He waved a hand toward the boundary, feet already taking him toward the door. "In case you change your mind. I just want to point out that I don't support this at all, and I hope you feel guilty about it." He turned on his heel and left the room then, ignoring when Klaus called his name. He hurried down the stairs, sucking in deep breaths to calm himself down. He sighed in relief when he saw Francis talking quietly with Elijah, Vincent, and Freya. Henrik stopped at Francis's side.
"My brother hasn't killed you yet," Henrik said quietly as the other three continued talking, "so I take that as a good sign." Francis sent him an amused look.
"I'm behaving myself," Francis said a little too innocently. "Just like you asked." Henrik gave him a knowing look before his attention was drawn to Klaus, who had followed him downstairs.
"Two Original vampires and three powerful witches against an army of miscreants?" Klaus asked, smirking, as if the past ten minutes upstairs hadn't happened. "I'm rather looking forward to it."
"Well," Francis drawled, "as a fellow miscreant, I can't say I share your optimism." Klaus cocked his head.
"I doubt Henrik would let you join in on the fun, anyway," Klaus said. Henrik and Francis both frowned at him.
"Shut up, Nik," was all Henrik said. Klaus offered him a shrug. Vincent decided to jump in then, dragging Francis's icy glare away from Klaus. Henrik was starting to appreciate Freya more and more. At least she hadn't made a jab toward Francis yet.
"Keep in mind that I'm mortal," Vincent said, "and as much as I want these guys out of my city, I like breathing. So let me go to the covens." Henrik's eyebrows rose at that. "I can propose an alliance. They hate you guys, but if I explain what's going on..."
"There's no time," Elijah argued.
"There never is," Freya said, sounding tired. "But, before we rush into battle, let's keep in mind that Tristan may be the very foe to lead you to your doom. Isn't this exactly what the prophecy foretold?" There was a beat of uncomfortable silence. It was easy for Henrik to forget a prophecy was looming over his head. He usually didn't remember until one of his visions happened in front of him.
"Rebekah's safe," Elijah said. Henrik knew him well enough to know that something was off then, and he glanced at Elijah with a frown. Elijah caught his gaze then quickly glanced away, looking at Klaus instead. Henrik's frowned deepened. "Brother, perhaps you should stay..."
"And what kind of father would I be if I didn't fight for the mother of my child?" Klaus asked. Henrik knew it was a rhetorical question, but he couldn't stop himself. He was still bitter about the boundary spell, and still shaken by the chair Klaus had thrown his way.
"The kind who curses the mother of his child and takes her daughter away from her," Henrik said flatly. Klaus's head whipped toward him, eyes burning in fresh anger, the nonchalance from before gone. To Henrik's amusement, he saw Francis and Vincent share an exasperated glance. The kind of glance only people who weren't in the family shared when they found themselves in the middle of Mikaelson drama. Francis looked like he was desperately trying to hold back laughter—he enjoyed watching drama unfold much more than he would ever admit—and Vincent cleared his throat, trying to stop the argument before it started. Elijah and Freya just held their breath.
"I have no intention of being outmaneuvered by Tristan de Martel," Klaus said at last, turning his head away from Henrik and continuing like he hadn't even spoken.
"Intention's got nothing to do with it," Vincent pointed out. "As long as Tristan de Martel has the Serratura and your baby's mama, the advantage is all his." Henrik blinked and straightened, shooting Vincent a startled look. Everyone noticed, and all of them turned their eyes on him, waiting for an explanation.
"The Serratura?" Henrik asked. "That's what we're dealing with?" He glanced at the people around them. Francis looked lost for a moment, and then he looked irritated. Henrik had believed him when he said he didn't know anything, but it wasn't until then that he realized how in the dark Francis actually was.
"You've heard of it?" Elijah asked, surprised. Henrik sighed.
"Of course I've heard of it," Henrik said, annoyed now, his arms crossed over his chest. "I made it." He shook his head and averted his gaze to the floor, thinking. "Tristan asked if I would activate something for him. I said no, so he never told me what it was. If I had known it was that then I would have—"
"You made it?" Klaus cut in. "For what, exactly?" Henrik shot him an ugly look.
"For Mikael," he said flatly, making Klaus blink in surprise. "I got tired of running all the time. It went missing before I could use it. I always thought Kol took it and hid it somewhere, since he was always obsessed with dark objects, but I could never prove it, and then you were kind enough to shove a dagger into his chest and keep him in a coffin for a century, so it kind of slipped my mind." Perhaps he should stop antagonizing Klaus. Clicking his tongue, Henik glanced around at the others. "How in the world did the Strix get their hands on it?"
"Cami's family collected dark objects," Elijah explained. "Her family obtained it somehow, and Lucien then obtained it from her."
"And you didn't think to tell us about this creation?" Klaus demanded. Henrik rounded on him, exasperated and more than a little angry now.
"Maybe I would have," he snapped, "if you hadn't treated me like shit the three whole decades before I left New Orleans, Nik." He felt a pressure on his back then, a hand that soothed down. It distracted him enough that he managed to reign in his temper. He shot Francis a glance, then looked at Elijah, silently hoping his brother would step in. He did.
"Can you deactivate it?" he asked. Henrik frowned.
"Yeah, a week ago," Henrik said, annoyed. "It may only take a few minutes to activate, but it takes days to deconstruct. That was the point. I wanted to trap Mikael for good. If you had told me about this when you first found out, this wouldn't be a problem. Now there isn't any time. You're going to have to risk getting trapped if you want to save Hayley."
"Then we go with my plan," Freya decided. Everyone stared at her. Up until that moment, none of them had even known she had a plan. She smiled at them. "I'm going to need something that belonged to his sister." Henrik's eyebrows shot up. She grinned at him. "No living thing can escape the Serratura, right? Well, we happen to have a very undead person upstairs." Henrik stared at her, then a wide, excited smile spread across his face.
"Mind telling us the plan?" Vincent cut in. Freya laughed.
"We're going to make Cami look like Aurora to get him inside whatever he plans on trapping us all in," Henrik explained, watching as Klaus left to get something of Aurora's, "and then we're going to trap him with his own weapon." Henrik heard Francis let out a small huff of amusement.
"Well," he said in the silence that followed. "Never say Mikaelson witches aren't clever."
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
"They should have been back by now." This was the sixth time Freya had said those words in the past thirty minutes. Henrik was sprawled across the couch, watching his sister pace back and forth with drooping eyes. The lack of proper sleep was catching up on him, and it didn't help that Francis was sitting on the arm of the couch, fingers trailing through Henrik's hair as he watched Freya as well. Freya was wringing her hands and glancing at the clock, chewing on her bottom lip. "Why aren't they back?"
"They're fine," Henrik mumbled. Freya rounded on him, face twisting with anxiety. Whatever she was about to say was cut off by a loud cry. Henrik winced. Hope had been in and out of sleep all day. He had thought he had finally gotten her to sleep permanently ten minutes before, but apparently not. It was like she could sense that something was wrong, that her mother was taken and her step-father was dead. He started to get to his feet, but Francis placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I'll get her," he murmured. "You calm Freya down. All her pacing is making me nervous." Henrik watched him leave, then pinned his sister with a stare. Freya sighed and turned toward him.
"How can you be sure that they're fine?" she demanded. Henrik raised an eyebrow.
"I can feel it. Literally." Freya frowned, cocking her head to the side. "I felt it when Finn and Kol died—the first times, at least—so I'd know if they were dead now. And they're not, which means they're fine, in my opinion. We'll find out soon enough if they were dropped in the ocean, and then I can deactivate the Serratura and we can work from there. Pacing won't change anything. Please stop." On cue, the crying upstairs ceased. Henrik glanced up to see Francis walking slowly along the second floor near the stairs, Hope in his arms. He was murmuring something to her, but Henrik couldn't hear what he was saying. He turned back toward Freya with a small smile, only to see that she was frowning at him. He blinked. "What?"
"You can feel when one of our siblings die?" she asked, surprised. He raised an eyebrow.
"Yes. Felt Mikael, too." He eyed her, then frowned in confusion. "Can't you feel it?"
"I was asleep when Mikael, Finn, and Kol died the first times," Freya explained, "but I was still aware, and I felt nothing. Would you be able to feel it if I died?"
"I'm not sure, and I don't really want to test it," Henrik said honestly. Freya grimaced.
"It just makes me wonder..."
"Wonder what?" he demanded. Freya shifted, looking uncomfortable.
"Maybe when she brought you back," she said slowly, and Henrik immediately scowled, making her stop briefly before continuing. "Maybe when she brought you back, she linked you to them." Before Henrik could respond, Francis was beside them. Hope was still in his arms, though her head was against his shoulder, and her eyelids were drooping. Tears stained her cheeks.
"They're back," Francis said before he gently passed Hope into Freya's arms. It was a wise decision. If Hayley was with them, the last thing she'd want to see was a Strix member holding her daughter, especially after losing Jackson. They waited for the group to find them. Cami wasn't with them—she had probably gone home—but Hayley was there. She looked like she was in shock. Elijah kept glancing at her in concern. Meanwhile, Klaus looked smug. Overjoyed, even. Henrik focused on him, raising his eyebrows in silent question.
"You'd be pleased to know that Tristan is currently drowning at the bottom of the ocean," Klaus informed. Henrik let out a startled laugh, then tilted his head in thought.
"Poetic justice," he said after a moment, nodding. "I like it."
"Do you?" For a moment, Henrik had no idea who had spoken. The voice was so devoid of real emotion that he didn't recognize it. A moment later, he was turning toward Hayley. She was staring at him. Henrik opened his mouth to snap at her, then closed it when he noticed Elijah's warning look. Hayley was traumatized, in shock. She hadn't even reached for Hope yet, despite the fact that Hope was now awake and reaching for one of her parents. Klaus took her when Hayley didn't.
"What?" Henrik said at last, bewildered. He shot a look at Klaus, but he only shrugged before dipping his head to kiss Hope on the forehead.
"Do you like that he's going to drown for eternity, Henrik?" Hayley clarified. There was finally some emotion in her voice, but it wasn't grief. It was anger. She was lashing out. Henrik knew that, but he still felt defensive anger rise up in him anyway. There was a moment of awkward silence as Henrik kept control of himself and thought over his next words carefully. Elijah had tried to get Hayley's attention as he did, tried to steer her away, but Hayley didn't budge.
"He wanted to drop my entire family in the ocean," Henrik said, eyes trained on Elijah instead of Hayley. "Of course I like it."
"Do you really?" Henrik still kept his eyes trained on Elijah. He didn't trust himself if he had to look at Hayley while she lashed out at him. The last thing he wanted to do was lash out back. "Because two weeks, he still wanted to drop your entire family in the ocean, and two weeks ago you were still screwing him." Everyone stopped breathing then. Everyone except Henrik, who finally pulled his gaze away from Elijah. When he looked at Hayley, his face was emotionless, eyes as cold as ice.
"I would choose your next words," Henrik whispered, "very carefully, Hayley." She seemed to take that as a challenge, taking a step forward. Elijah tried to pull her back, but she shook him off.
"When exactly did you stop manipulating him, Henrik?" she snapped. "Thanksgiving? Christmas? After Cami was turned into a vampire? No. Tristan thought you were still on his side when we locked him in that safe. Was receiving Jackson's heart in a box what finally made you see the light?" Henrik worked his jaw, taking in a deep breath to calm the burning anger growing in his chest.
"I know you're grieving, Hayley, but—" Elijah started, trying to cut in before she said something she couldn't take back. It was too late for that, though. Hayley couldn't have stopped even if she had wanted to. She wanted someone to hurt as much as she was hurting, and her eyes were set on Henrik.
"Look me in the eye and tell me you never loved Tristan de Martel," she ordered, taking another step forward. Henrik felt like all the oxygen had been knocked out of his chest. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He gritted his teeth together.
"That's not fair—" he started.
"Were you trying to figure out if he ever loved you back? If any of it was real? Because he didn't and it wasn't." Henrik locked his jaw and stared at her in silence then. Nothing he said would get her to stop, so he'd take her words in silence, wait it out until it was over. None of her words were truly hurting him, anyway, they were just making him angry. "Your entire relationship was built on manipulation. He never loved you." The longer he went without reacting, the angrier Hayley seemed to get. Desperately, in a last effort to hurt him somehow, she spit out, "Your first love was a lie."
Even Henrik was surprised when he flinched.
"That's enough," Klaus snarled then, stepping in between them. Everyone had been frozen in shock up until that moment, not knowing what to do, not knowing whether Henrik wanted someone to step in or not. As soon as Henrik flinched, they all seemed to come alive again. Hayley seemed to come out of her shock and grief, just now realizing what she had been doing. Her face paled. She opened her mouth, but a choked sound was the only thing that come out. There was a beat of tense silence as Henrik stared at Hayley.
Eventually, all he said was, "I hope that made you feel better."
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
Henrik had escaped to his room after that. He had been left alone for an hour, and he spent that hour setting up a spell with one hand and nursing a bottle of bourbon in the other. He was taking a swig and falling into his chaise when he heard his door open.
"Go away," he said immediately, taking another drink.
"Should I?" Francis asked. Henrik blinked and looked at him with a frown. He had thought Francis had left by then, gone back to his apartment. Maybe even gone to meet Aya, who was now the new leader of the Strix. "I don't really think you should be alone right now." He eyed the bottle in Henrik's hand. When Henrik didn't send him away, he came deeper into the room and sat down beside Henrik, taking the bottle out of Henrik's hand and taking a drink of his own. Henrik tilted his head back against the chaise and looked at him for a moment, thinking.
"Am I a horrible person?" he said at last. Francis set the bottle down on the floor and looked at him.
"Why would you be a horrible person?" Francis asked. "Because you loved someone a long time ago?" Henrik stared at him, and Francis sighed. "Henrik, how Tristan treated you isn't your fault, and you're not a horrible person for it. You're not responsible for anything he does. None of this is your fault, and Hayley shouldn't have said any of that to you." Henrik didn't respond. He just sat in silence, too deep in thought to have an actual conversation. There was a beat of silence, and then Francis added, "Your first love wasn't a lie, you know."
"What?" Henrik asked, so startled that he let out a small huff of amusement.
"You got upset when she said your first love was a lie," Francis pointed out, "and I wanted to tell you that it wasn't." Henrik raised his eyebrows in silent question. Francis smiled. "I don't think Tristan was your first love. I don't think he even came close. He was just your first relationship, your first everything, and you loved him for that, but I consider a first love as something good. Something reciprocated. Someone who made you happy. And from what you told me, that was Rose. And she loved you back. So much." Henrik opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Something had loosened in his chest at his words, a weight he hadn't realized was there until it was gone. He took a deep breath.
"Thank you," was all he could say, but it was enough. Francis smiled, but it wasn't there long. After a moment, he grimaced and turned his body toward Henrik.
"I know I've come across as a disloyal bastard where the Strix is concerned," Francis started, making Henrik frown and sit up a bit straighter, "but I didn't care enough about them to give my genuine loyalty. I was just doing it because—"
"I get it," Henrik cut in, voice soft. "You don't have to explain yourself to me." Henrik was the last person who could judge when it came to doing horrible things for family.
"But I want to explain," Francis said, so Henrik pressed his lips together and listened. "I want you to know that I won't betray your family. I won't betray you. I care about you, if I haven't made that explicitly clear already, and by extension that means I care about your family." Henrik slid closer then, completely taken off-guard. He couldn't remember a single time that someone had actually said those words to him. It was an odd feeling.
"No one has ever bothered to even pretend to care about my family," Henrik murmured. Francis shook his head then, bewildered.
"That's what I don't understand," he admitted. "How could anyone meet you, spend time with you, claim to love and care about you, then go around and hate the people you love and expect you to be okay with it? It's like they don't know you at all. I've only known you a few months, but—" Henrik leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his mouth, cutting him off. He pulled away before Francis could return it, and he took the dazed silence that followed as an opportunity to grab Francis's hand and lead him to the worktable in the middle of the room. The spell ingredients were still strewn across it—candles, herbs, a pentagram drawn with chalk on the wood, a bowl, a blessed knife. Henrik picked up the knife and turned toward Francis.
"Give me your hand," he ordered, and was slightly surprised when Francis held his hand out without any questions, his palm up. Henrik grabbed the bowl filled with herbs and held it under Francis's hand before he cut his palm and let the blood flow into the bowl. Francis healed too quickly, so Francis wrapped his hand around the blade and squeezed until he had enough blood for the spell. Henrik placed the bowl in the center of the pentagram and proceeded to light the candles with his mind. Francis watched in silence until Henrik started murmuring under his breath, using the knife to stir the contents of the bowl.
"What are we doing?" Francis asked, looking fascinated as he watched Henrik work. Henrik pulled the knife out of the bowl and let it drip onto the table. The blood followed the lines of the chalk until every inch of it was covered with blood and herbs.
"Casting the protection spell over your sister. She'll feel it, so expect a call from her soon," Henrik explained as he picked up a candle and tilted it until the wax landed in the bowl. The contents started to bubble, and then everything was burning, the fire growing so high that Francis had to take a few steps away. Henrik didn't seem to mind the heat. He mumbled a few more sentences in Latin before he stepped away. "I have to wait until the fire dies down before I can continue." He planted his hands on his hips to watch, and then a wide smile was spreading across his face. He glanced at Francis, beaming. "Is it conceited to say that I'm a damn talented witch?" Francis let out a soft laugh.
"You didn't have to do this, you know," he said quietly as they watched the fire grow smaller and smaller. "Tristan was the only one who knew, and he's now at the bottom of the ocean."
"First of all, I didn't have to do anything. I offered." Francis rolled his eyes at that, but Henrik just smiled. "You risked your own family just to stay with me while mine was in trouble. This was the least I could do." His voice had softened then. He caught Francis's gaze and held it, and then quickly glanced away, smile growing wider. "Besides, I care about you, so by extension I care about your family." Francis smiled, his eyes glittering.
"Thank you," he whispered. Henrik stared at him again. They still hadn't talked about the kissing, still hadn't talked about whether they were actually in a relationship or not, but suddenly that conversation didn't seem necessary. They were already in too deep now, and something like this wasn't easy to ignore.
"You can repay me by taking me out on an actual date," Henrik decided, and that was all that needed to be said. They were on the same page. "You know, for a self-proclaimed gentleman, you certainly do have a habit of kissing first and not asking me out later."
"When have I ever claimed to be a gentleman?" Francis asked, flashing a quick smile. The fire was growing smaller now, so Henrik stepped forward to continue the spell. Keeping his distance in case the fire flared up again, Francis added, "Where would my darling like to go?"
Henrik laughed and picked up the bowl.
"Surprise me, love."
*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
edited: 6.21.18