𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔣 ℑ𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔰 x Klaus Mikaelson

Thirty Three

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"You can't always be strong but you can always be brave."

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         Worry was a steady beat in my veins. Pumping throughout my body as if it were permanently altered into my bloodstream.

I sat at the edge of my bed, straining my hearing as much as I could searching for the smallest sound that Klaus was back and alive in one piece. That my friends were alive in one piece.

I had contemplated knocking myself out with magic if only to have a moment of relief.

Though the stress and worry and agony did remind me of one important thing I had forgotten: this is why I refused to get close to people. To form attachments meant needing someone.

Needing a person...that was dangerous for an immortal.

Even immortals were fickle in the fact of their wants. To need another immortal was either very bad or very, very bad.

Even in the best situation that want would turn to need, need would turn to obsession, obsession would turn to hate. A spiral going down and down until everything was poisoned. A venomous snake striking at something repeatedly until it just died altogether. 

The worst being that...even immortals could be killed with the right tools.

So many outcomes and realities where everything went up in flames.

And with Esther and Alaric looming with the white oak stake...

Esther and Alaric.

Esther and Alaric.

I had been so engrossed in Alaric I hadn't allowed myself to process everything that had happened with them. Too caught up in my grief that I hadn't analyzed what had gone down at the dance.

Esther had used both Elena and I's blood for the spell. But why?

She had said she needed doppelganger blood, and yet there was no reason. Yes, I had learned that Tatia's blood had been used for the creation of the originals...but Esther had used an original spell. Why would she have used doppelganger blood in the first place? How could she have known Tatia was a doppelganger in the first place?

Other than the spirits, who I doubted would have uttered a word about the matter because of the dark magic she would partake in? What reason did they have to help her?

Did it truly matter what blood was used at all?

Then why Elena? Why me?

Because she wanted to clear the board all at once.

Esther had created an original to kill all. The doom of vampires. And yet she had made him immortal, the exact thing she was trying to kill.

Klaus needed Elena's blood to make more hybrids and the fact that I was...

Gods.

Esther was a goddamned genius. Or psychopath.

The fucker linked Elena and I to the spell. She didn't make the same mistake again, tying Alaric's life to Elena's. One mortal life span to kill the originals and end vampires once and for all.

And me...

I had been linked to Elena too.

To finally end the only unsired vampire in history.

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I rushed everywhere. I needed candles and salt and all the fucking things in the world.

I had to fix this. I had to fix this right now before something happened to Elena and I died. Something that with Elena's awful luck could happen any minute.

I ripped open a small white drawer in the kitchen, nearly taking it out off the counter altogether. A small ripple of relief waded through me for only a moment as I grabbed handfuls of candles before turning to one of the higher cabinets and successfully taking the door off the wall.

I grabbed the large bag of salt, and vamp sped back to my room. My breathing was ragged as I hastily poured the salt on the floor in the shape of a pentagram. It was sloppy but would do. I didn't have time to waste re-doing it.

Quickly, I placed five candles on each point of the star and lit them without so much as uttering a word.

I couldn't step into the circle yet.

Not when my mind was so fractured and messy. I closed my eyes, exhaling a soft breath as I tried to calm my raging heart and cloudy thoughts.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

I repeated the mantra in my head until my panic had sputtered down into a small gust of wind rather than a raging thunderstorm.

I opened my eyes slowly. My mind focused only on the task at hand and the risky spell I had to do, rather than my possible impending doom...

I stepped into the pentagram and the candles burned impossibly brighter in answer.

Slowly I sat down, dead center of the star.

Again I closed my eyes, tapping into the magic that resided deep inside me. I listened as the room became silent. I smelled the magic in the air, almost coppery. I felt as the air grew thick and world seemed to stop in anticipation.

And then I began chanting. The words flowing from my mouth as though I was singing an ancient song. I felt as the spell took hold, tying itself into a knot that could only be untangled by me.

A tether to pull on when death eventually claimed me. A rope to pull me out.

Resurrection was a tricky thing, a maze that you had to navigate.

Sometimes you never found the exit...

It would be alright.

I gasped as the spell finished, gulping for air as though the magic had stolen my breath.

My mind felt cloudy, as though death was already on its way. Black spots blurred my vision, a sla ripping through the room, but I couldn't see what had caused it. Not as I felt myself tipping and tipping like I was going to fall.

Tipping like glass falling to the floor and shattering.

Was this it? Was this what true death felt like?

I felt the nearness of the ground, felt myself closing in on it.

But the glass never hit the floor.

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A/N: yes.