The Burdens We Carry

Prologue

Time. An odd notion, for humans it offers a limited span of good years before challenges set in, be it due to sickness or circumstances. Nonetheless, the truth remained that time was fleeting for mortals.

To immortals like her, time barely made a dent.

For centuries, she wandered the earth. Witnessed empires rise and fall. Monarchs vie for power, humans succumb to greed. She observed it all with a disinterested eye, as the years passed it grew tiresome, then unbearable, the monotony of living longer... having endless time at your disposal... centuries and now a millennium... 1000 years more or less. She was destined to endure humanity.

She was meant to observe them, witness as greed consumed them. See how pride led to their downfall, how they loved and lied, lived and perished, but most of all she was meant to watch her siblings... her beloved siblings turn into shadows of their former selves.

Kol, the youngest, turned into a depraved being, engaging in debauchery, hedonism, murder for his own pleasure. Leaving behind scattered bodies, almost as if he wanted Mikael to discover them, to end their immortal existence. She couldn't entirely blame him. She often pondered what would have happened if she had allowed the abusive man to drive the white oak stake through her heart.

Did she feel the release of death? Or did she cry out in pain as she turned to dust?

Questions left unanswered as she didn't quite let Mikael end her that night.

Instead, she watched him try to drive the stake into her chest with a smirk, reminiscent of the cruelty she endured in her youth. The same cruelty he inflicted when he took her from their home and abused her. She no longer felt any affection, especially after losing the sweet boy to wolves.

Kol's playful nature faded into cruelty, witnessed by her eyes as she refrained from intervening, even when Niklaus struck him down with a silver dagger.

Rebekah transformed into someone unrecognizable. The girl dreaming of love and princes now reveled in manipulating her suitors for amusement. She didn't blame Rebekah; she blamed herself for taking their mother away in a fit of anger.

Elijah, well, he was a man of elegance and charm, masking his dark side with sophistication and false kindness. A pretentious bastard indeed.

Niklaus may have had it the hardest. He witnessed her murdering their mother, seeing her thrust her hand into the woman's chest with pure rage in her eyes. She argued it was for his safety, but perhaps it was simply her deep-seated resentment towards the woman who brought them their immortal existence, the woman who bore her from a union with a werewolf.

A transgression that might have been forgiven once if it had only been her to emerge from that association, but it was not.

When Niklaus committed his first murder, she witnessed every bone in his body shatter, his tearful blue eyes as he pleaded for her assistance. She moved to help, but Elijah arrived, followed by Mikael, and the rest became history.

Yet, perhaps, despite all his flaws, he was not as wicked as she was. She bore a dreadful reputation, her conduct, her demeanor, the corpses accumulating at her feet. She considered herself faithful to her essence - after all, was she not a nocturnal being? Was she not a monster used to frighten children into behaving?

Was she not the creature lurking beneath the bed? There was no point in denying her true nature, no need to mask it with pretty words and elegant attire. Her cold, indifferent gaze, her willingness to kill to protect herself, to eliminate those who crossed her, to satisfy her own desires. She laid waste to villages, relishing in the sounds of men's screams as they begged for mercy or death, both of which she denied.

Where was her compassion? Where was the divine intervention she sought when facing Mikael's fury? Where was God when she cried out for deliverance from the brutal abuse inflicted upon her by her step-father in the depths of the forest?

He didn't show up, no matter how much she begged and cried.

After a while, she stopped crying altogether.

She started accepting the abuse without showing any emotion. Maybe it was time she faced the truth, even if only to herself.

The reality was that she was shattered, shattered by the man who was supposed to love her. Shattered by the mother who ignored her suffering. Shattered by her siblings who never noticed her pain... except for one.

Heinrik witnessed her pain, tended to her wounds at night, expressed his love, and vowed to confront her oppressor when he was able. He promised to keep her safe so she wouldn't have to endure suffering anymore.

However, Niklaus, the foolish boy, took away the only person who truly knew her.

When her youngest brother bled through his clothes, the last piece of her heart and hope shattered as she watched his eyes lose their light, optimism, dreams, and promises of safety. In his final whisper, instead of complaining about his pain, he painfully apologized with a vague "I'm sorry," directed towards her. By the time the words reached her ears, her blue eyes turned icy, her heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

Yes, even if she couldn't confess to others, she could acknowledge it within herself. She felt completely broken and not even her siblings' love could comfort her. No one understood the extent of her suffering or the torment she had endured since she was 9 years old.

"You're here once again, sitting in silence," the woman paused, looking at Kára with a questioning expression. "Why do you pay for sessions but remain so quiet?"

Kára smiled dryly, the therapist being someone she had recently reached out to in hopes of healing past wounds. A futile attempt at finding solace. "I'm not certain what I'm looking for. I find myself pondering on this couch, wondering if things would be different if he had lived."

"Who are you referring to?"

Kára wore a sad smile as she mentioned her brother, her eyes dimming with the memory. The session ended with the bell, and she stood up. "I suppose we'll have more time next week."

"Please, stay a bit longer. We were making progress," the doctor urged.

Kára declined, mentioning a prior engagement. "Thank you, Dr. Shelvey. Your advice is always valuable."

"What's so pressing that you must leave?" the doctor asked.

Stopping at the door, Kára explained, "My brother is stirring up trouble."

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