persephone's orchard : k.m.

and may she rise again - chapter 11

'I'm going to kill him.' Nik had gotten out of the bath quite swiftly after getting in it, wrapping a towel around his waist and Astrid huffed. The bath soothed her aching muscles after a long night of embracing her truest nature. 'There's no point. I can handle this.' She attempted to settle him and he shook his head, 'No. He's starting something he isn't going to win.'

Shutting her eyes, her voice was as warm as the water she was in, 'I know he isn't going to win, darling. Because it's me he's going up against. Please come back here.' She motioned to the bath but he chuckled, 'You are commendable to say the least love. But I'm still going to kill him.' She rolled her eyes before looking out the window, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face. 'I'm so sick of people.' Astrid crossed one arm over her frame and facepalmed.

'I'll tell you what I'm not sick of..' he called out from their bedroom and she answered, 'What's that?'

'Killing the people that you're sick of.' He grumbled and came back into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe. 'Tristan De Martel is a charlatan wannabe Elijah and I'm not scared of any bloody deals he wants to make.' Astrid stood up in the tub and rolled her eyes again when his eyes left hers and found other places.

Stepping out, she grabbed her own towel and walked past him. 'Oi! I ran that bath for you!' Klaus called out and she scoffed, 'Excuse me! You signed a contract when you said you'd get in there with me and you broke terms of agreement when you got out!'

...

After a further ten minutes arguing about metaphorical contracts, Astrid eventually made her way to the balcony in a white shirt, dark brown chinos, a pair matching suspenders and coat that was strung over her shoulder. It was the scent of lavender that caught her first, followed quickly by the blood. Her jaw hung slightly ajar as she tried not to rub her eyes out of fear of her tight lined light eyeshadow smudging. 'Marcel.. wait.' She had called him the second she noticed the glass she left for him in the study was empty, overjoyed that her premonition about Mohiner's blood habits was correct and truthfully overjoyed that he's dead.

'Astrid?.. you okay?' The prodigal son was at his home, in front of a punching bag as he retold last nights events to his mother. 'Yeah. Yeah I'm okay.' She turned away from what she was seeing, 'Listen. Are you free tonight? I feel bad that I left the party early.'

'Yeah' he frowned, 'I'm free tonight. And are you sure you're okay? Hayley said Tristan danced with you then you left with Klaus like straight after.'

'That's something I need to explain tonight.' She put a hand on her hip and smiled in exhaustion, 'You did good, Marcellus.' He smiled too. There was a difference for Marcel between Klaus and Astrid, that name used to trigger the young Prince when it was used by either of them. Even though his opinion hadn't changed with Nik, it eventually became a term of endearment between mother and son. Klaus left him behind, it was Astrid who had his back since he became a Mikaelson.

'Thank you.' He replied and she hung up the phone, turning back around to the sight that distracted her. A large flower arrangement sat on the floor in the middle of the Compound, with a dead woman laid down on top of it delicately. Her wrists were slit and the blood was fresh. Astrid turned her nose up at the sight before deciding to take a closer look, walking down the stairs slowly. She couldn't help but recall a particular event.

A particular event with a particular De Martel.

Upon closer inspection, a note could be seen folded up at the edge of the flowers and she picked it up.