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Klaus Mikaelson hadn't had a good night of sleep since the 1920s, and this night would be no different.
Klaus crawled out of bed, his heart clawing at his chest. He stumbled to the side room, the second safest room in the house. He planned to use it as a painting study some day, but with all the traveling, he never got around to it. So the room was still empty, and having only white walls and a few windows, it was the perfect place for him to hide from his night terrors. Klaus still glanced around at the shadows to make sure nothing hid within them. He felt childish doing so, but his nightmares always made him feel like a boy, lost in the woods, begging his father to come rescue him from the monsters in the shadows.
But now, after a thousand years, his own father was the monster Klaus feared.
Breathing heavily, he sat under the nearest window, pressing his back against the cold wall. In the night's darkness, the white paint on the walls tried to reflect the city lights coming from the window. But not even the morning sun had enough light to kill all the shadows in Klaus's mind.
With his trembling fingers, he took out the golden arm-ring he had around his wrist. Sighing, he closed his fist around it. Mikael had given Klaus the arm-ring the last time they saw each other. It was an unusual gift, but one Klaus should have received many centuries before, as a sign of his transition from boy to man. He had dreamt about receiving his own arm-ring since he could barely understand the stories his father told him. But, with Viking culture dead, the arm-ring had no practical societal use. Now, the only practically useful quality of the arm-ring was its magical powers, which Klaus could never really understand. Still, it was Klaus' most cherished possession.
As he pressed the relic against his chest, staring at the distant wall in front of him, Klaus could feel the magic of the arm-ring pulling him closer to his father.
"Another nightmare, my boy?" Mikael's voice echoed sweetly through the room. An astral projection of Mikael had magically appeared besides Klaus.
Klaus sighed, fearful relief making his chest heavy. "Hello, father." he said, a small smile on his lips as he turned to face Mikael.
"You know, my boy, I do love our conversations..." Mikael said, smiling while he stared at the wall in front of them. "But..." he glance at Klaus, his smile fading despite his best efforts. "Maybe you should talk to your siblings too..." he said, trying to keep his voice casual as he turned his attention to the cup of beer in his hand. "They were always better at talking than I am. We both know I'm not so good with my words, boy..." he sighed, his voice unsteady and far from casual.
"You seem talkative enough for me, father." Klaus said, shrugging his fears away. "More than usual." he added, guilt making his heart twist in his chest. The mention of his siblings was the last thing he needed.
"Yes, well..." he said, scratching the back of his head. "I just don't think I'm the best person to... well, you know..." he sighed, leaning his head against the white wall and waving his hand. "Besides... I've heard Elijah is on his own. But I assumed...." he swallowed, the next words came out of his mouth slowly, as though he was afraid to say them out loud. "Finn, Kol and Rebekah are... still with you..." he glanced at Klaus, his eyes analyzing his son's every move. "Maybe you can talk to them for a bit? After you tire of me, that is..." Mikael smiled halfheartedly, his eyes still fixed on his son's face, as though something in the way Klaus exhaled could be a clue to finding where he hid the coffins.
Klaus' heart sank into the hollowness of his chest. "My siblings are preoccupied at the moment, father..." he said, swallowing his guilt. "They have matters to attend." he added, biting his tongue.
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Hybrid's Curse | Book 1 | TVD Rewrite
FanfictionNiklaus Mikaelson always knew he was a cursed man. But he never knew what his hybrid curse stole from him. His werewolf nature, yes, and so, so much more. Yet, Klaus' hybrid curse also protected him, and his siblings, from the Hollow... Or What if...