This is the story of a girl called Astrid, and it starts with a prophecy.
A prophecy of a life that is not hers but one that will be forced upon her nonetheless.But prophecy are always up to those you believed them, and Astrid didn't think further o...
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Klaus leans against the fireplace with a drink in his hand as he watches the flames of the fire within it when Rebekah walks determinedly into the room.
The first thing that Rebekah notices is the face of Caroline Forbes staring at her as the rest of the paper burns within the fire.
Rebekah says nothing though, knowing exactly why her brother was burning it.
Anyway it wasn't that piece of art that had her interest but the hundreds of piece that surrounded her and Klaus.
It didn't take a long time for Rebekah recognise exactly who the muse for them were.
Astrid.
The confused, frightened woman who she had just left in a bedroom upstairs.
Rebekah looks at the closest drawing before she breaks the silence between her and Klaus.
"If you are interested or care, I got Addie to take a shower, wash her hair and actually sleep. Although I am not sure how much she will remember, she seemed a little robotic about everything. But no longer feral."
Klaus just huff in response, taking a long sip from his drink.
Rebekah studies the drawing in front of her, her eyes tracing the delicate lines that capture Astrid's likeness.
The artist's skill is undeniable.
Each stroke of the pencil brings the woman's features to life, revealing a vulnerability Rebekah hadn't noticed before.
"You've captured her essence," Rebekah remarks, her voice tinged with a mix of astonishment and curiosity. Klaus glances at her briefly before refocusing on the fire, his expression unreadable.
"I suppose I have," he says nonchalantly, but Rebekah can detect a hint of pride in his voice. She watches as he takes another sip from his glass and frustration creeps into her.
Not only at Klaus but all her brothers.
"I don't know what all your problems are to be treating Astrid like you have. And to be honest I don't really care. But you, Finn, Elijah, and hell even Kol now, need to stop whatever self pity parties you four are having and talk to to her."
Rebekah's words hang in the air, the weight of her frustration palpable.
Klaus finally tears his gaze away from the dancing flames and regards his sister with a mixture of surprise and annoyance.
"You think we have self-pity parties?" he scoffs, setting his drink down on the mantelpiece. "Rebekah, the woman we love and thought to be dead just appeared alive before us, after centuries of believing she was gone forever. Can you blame us for being a little lost?"
Rebekah narrows her eyes, her voice laced with conviction.
"Of course not, Klaus. But you all are too consumed by your own emotions to see how your actions are affecting her. Like you said she has been presumed dead for centuries. You don't know what that has done to her. Not to mention she has just found herself in a world that is vastly different from the one she was born into."
