Hiraeth § Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Under the Moonlight

{D.M}

         Sobs racked Kol's figure, Dakota's arms wrapped awkwardly, yet sympathetically around his shoulders. "Forgive me, but isn't Davina supposed to be the one who holds you when you're like this?"

         His head popped up, cheeks bright red and tear stained. Dakota even recalled a gross line of snot dripping down his nose but he smeared it away with the wrist of his sweater. She made a mental note not to allow that hand to touch her anymore. "Do you see her here right now?" He shouted helplessly, his arms thrown up in the air.

         "No, right, totally." Side-stepping out of another hug, Dakota cringed a little. "See, I came back to make sure you weren't dead and you aren't."

        "I am actively dying!"

        Nodding in agreement, a disgruntled whine came from her throat. "Yes, but you have time to prepare for it and it's not exactly like this is your first time. Dying, I mean."

       It was Kol's turn to whine. "You are no help!"

       He stomped out much like a child, searching to find comfort in his witch before passing or maybe to find a loophole, that one.

       Finding her way back home, Dakota also found Klaus and a woman beside him with a mousy complexion and long curly hair. "And you are?"

      "Forgot me already? I thought us girls were destined to stick together."

      "Rebekah," Lurching forward to give her a hug, Dakota was delighted to see the other female Mikaelson. "Sporting a new look, I see."

      Her eyes rolled on their own sassy accord. "I have Kol to thank for that. My original meatsuit was more delicate."

      "The only thing delicate about you sister is your ego."

      Rebekah scoffed at her hybrid brother, arms crossing in front of her chest and a pout settling on her lips. "Please, don't tell me you think you have a right to mention anyone's ego when you harbor one larger than life itself."

       A amused laugh passed Klaus' plump lips, his response muted by his brothers interjection. "We have more important matters to discuss, like how our long lost sister has returned."

       "Truthfully, there's not much to discuss. She said she was Freya and darted off into the night."

       Dakota sat on her husbands lap, her voice responding to Elijah's through the cellphone. "That doesn't leave very much room for interpretation."

       "She could've been lying, we know plenty of people capable of body-jumping. She could've been anyone telling any lie, but she did seem familiar."

       Klaus' hands were anxiously fiddling with the ends of his red sweater, the first two bottoms completely undone and showing a gracious amount of skin. "Even if it was her, how did she survive so long and what is it with our family's annoying predilection for cheating death?"

       "Not that annoying seeing as our child is one of those miraculous cheaters of death."'

       Holding back a sarcastic comment, Klaus simply hummed in agreement with his spouse. "That beautiful exception aside," He gritted through his teeth. "—I was leaning more towards the pressing matter on if our dear Aunt Dahlia was also alive and kicking."

       Rebekah, clearly displeased with her brothers tone was equipped with time today. "Let me just turn back time and ask her the questions of your liking."

       "Enough," Elijah, always the diplomat called through the cellphone. "Both of you. If she is who she says we'll find out soon enough. Until then, it remains imperative that no one learns of Hope's existence."

       Dakota bit her lip, a mixture of excitement and protectiveness building inside of her. "I know of someone who's begging to figure it out and I am eager to put an eternal stop to it."

        "Please don't kill anyone."

        "Oh, I'm going to kill everyone."

.

.

.

           "You know, it is never smart to split up during a getaway."

           Marcel was less than amused, his face bloodied, eyes trained on the knife in Finn's hands. "Just let my guys go and I'll tell you whatever you want."

           "How selfless," Finn mused, humorlessly. "I'm willing to comply with such a request if you answer me one last question." Squatting down to his level, Finn walked Marcel through what he understood. "It is common belief around the werewolves that you were the last person who saw Niklaus' child alive. Before the witches killed her correct?"

           Marcel gulped, but his eye contact never faltered. "Okay."

           "You were in possession of the baby's corpse, right? So, tell me how exactly did the baby die?" Marcels mouth opened to answer yet he couldn't, because he didn't know. "You don't remember, because you were compelled to forget. And why else would Niklaus need to compel away what happened with the body if there was no death to begin with." A smile spread across Finn's face, the sign of joy coming off as anything but comforting. "She's still alive and now you and your vampires are going to help me find her."

The door behind him slammed open, a bright smile overtaking Dakota's face upon finally setting her eyes on her target. "Marcel, you may leave." Scrambling to undo his bounds and finally be fed, Marcel sped off like a blur in the night. "Oh, Finn, you've messed with the wrong bitch."

Stalking forward, Finn held his ground, clearly feeling proud to having asked the proper question to the right person—that was okay. Dakota had been waiting to humble the man before her for quite some time. "Your child is still alive, isn't it?"

Her smile dropped, her eyes void of any emotion, however, her body was relaxed. "I am going to enjoy this."

Finn's useless attempts of performing magic on her was rendered useless, the protection of Sheila Bennett herself reigning his efforts obsolete. "How—?" Her fist connected with his jaw, hard enough that a tooth far in the back of his mouth shoot forward and onto the floor before him, a spray of blood spewing from his lips.

His pleas began instantly, useless begging of mercy. "We're family!"

Dakota pauses, her head tilting to the left. "Family doesn't mean shit without loyalty," Her hand shot through his chest, his heart beating it's last pump in her hands. "Sheila," She calls out to the open air, positive that the witch was nearby. "Handle this for me, will you?"

Stepping over his body, Dakota kept his heart, blood drip, drip, dropping on the ground. A trail of her triumph—no one fucked with her family, not even family.