Savior | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter 57

Maddy was mildly afraid.

What if Klaus reacted the way Elena thought he might? What if he lashed out at Ansel and killed him? Or what if he forced him out of the house and he never came back?

He stared at his father as if he was truly a ghost when he walked in. Maddy bit her lip hard, hoping that Klaus wouldn't be angry at her for not having told him about Ansel sooner.

"Nik," she said gently, approaching him as his face went paler and paler, his eyes widened in horror at the sight of his father, alive after having been dead for a thousand years. "I need to tell you something."

He didn't respond, but she knew he was listening, so she continued, "Ansel saved me from Mikael. He fired arrows at him. Incapacitated him long enough for us to get away. He left before you could get here. But he kept me safe. I just want you to know that."

Klaus would of course take that into consideration. After the initial rage died down.

"Niklaus," said Ansel gently.

"You see him?" Klaus asked Maddy, as if he thought that Ansel might be a figment of his imagination.

"Yes," she confirmed. "He's here. Your mother brought him back. That's probably why she mentioned him to you earlier. She must have known that you'd see him."

Klaus gritted his teeth. "What has Esther offered you?" he sneered at Ansel. "In exchange for swaying me into accepting her bargain? Is that why you saved Madeleine? To gain my trust?"

Ansel blinked. "I do not speak for Esther. I know nothing of her bargains. After I died I lingered on the Other Side, watching you let the world fall apart, until I woke, four moons past, in the land of wolves like myself. I have not seen your mother since. Not long ago, I felt a tug that drew me closer to the Crescent encampment."

"A tug?" scoffed Klaus.

"Yes. I was drawn to their home and I did not know why. Until I saw her from afar." Ansel gestured to Maddy. "I knew who she was, as I heard the wolves speaking of her being in a fragile state. I realized that I was drawn to her because of the child she's carrying."

Both Klaus and Maddy were confused, and Ansel explained, "When you were a boy, after each full moon, I would wake closer to your village, having been drawn to you in the night. Since I've been back, each month when I turn, I wake further from New Orleans. At the time, I did not understand it. It only became clearer when Madeleine arrived in this city, and I woke right beside the cabin in which she slept peacefully. It's because of your child. My grandchild. I know the call of my own blood."

"It was you," said Klaus suddenly, having a different realization. "The merlock orchid. I could not find it. And suddenly, there it was. Wrapped in a handkerchief. Waiting for me. Near the Crescent encampment."

Ansel nodded. "I used to find the orchid for your mother when she needed to put Mikael to sleep. Because of my time there, I learned the Bayou well, and I left it where you would find it. I knew you would visit the spot where Mikael had taken Madeleine. I knew you'd see it." He drew a deep breath. "Surely you have questions for me."

Klaus scoffed, looking at Maddy, as if he couldn't bring himself to face Ansel as he said, "You know, I used to tell myself that my real father must have had no idea I existed. Otherwise, he'd never leave me to suffer under Mikael."

"Esther forbade me from seeing you," said Ansel honestly. "So, I waited, knowing that one day, you would trigger your curse and need your real father. When that happened, Mikael found me first. I fought him for you."

"Yes, well, your grand declaration is just a few years too late," said Klaus snidely.

"Now, you joke, but I know you've always felt a void in your life," replied Ansel. "I've watched you from beyond for centuries. You've traveled all corners of the world, seen monuments erected, feasted on the blood of the history's most extraordinary men, but you've never found true peace. The only moments of joy in your life, however fleeting, have been simple pleasures. As you climbed the Himalayas, as you tended to your horses. Quiet days, teaching that boy Shakespeare—"