Aventurine | Finn Mikaelson

A Ripple in the Ocean

The aventurine crystal in her hand glowed and Freya's spirit lifted from her body, soaring upwards and outwards as if pulled by an unseen force. As she ascended through the threshold of the cottage, she was enveloped by a sense of freedom, unlike anything she had ever experienced before. The boundaries of her physical form dissolved, and Freya found herself floating weightlessly in the vast expanse of the sky, the world below her merely a speck in the distance.

In her incorporeal state, Freya's gaze swept over the horizon, taking in the breathtaking view of the Atlantic Ocean stretching out endlessly beneath her. The ocean shimmered like a sea of diamonds in the sunlight, its beauty almost overwhelming in its vastness. As she marveled at the wonders of the world around her, something caught her attention—a plane gliding gracefully through the clouds, its metal frame cutting through the sky with ease.

Intrigued, Freya floated closer to the plane, her spirit passing effortlessly through its exterior as if it were made of air. Floating in the cabin, she saw a figure seated inside, bathed in the soft glow of the cabin lights. It was Klaus. He sat with a glass of Gin in hand, his eyes fixed on the swirling clouds outside. His brows knitted in contemplation, a storm of emotions brewing beneath his composed facade. Freya gently reached out, attempting to touch his mind, which remained oblivious to her spectral presence. Entering his thoughts, she saw that he had gotten into a row with Elijah.

Intrigued, Freya delved into Klaus's thoughts. Images of heated arguments and accusations flashed before her eyes. Klaus had lied about disposing of their siblings' coffins in the ocean, condemning them to an eternal slumber at the ocean's depths. To ensure his deceit remained hidden, he had enlisted the help of a witch to cast a powerful spell, warding off any attempts by Elijah to locate the coffins himself. The witch was Angus who was many, many decades older with deep wrinkles, grey hair, and ancient, wise eyes.

Freya's spectral form delved further into Klaus's memories, witnessing the words that led to the moment he made the fateful decision. The scene unfolded before her, capturing the emotional turmoil and inner conflict that plagued Klaus as he grappled with his own actions.

Elijah's words echoed in Klaus's head cutting through him like a blade, Elijah's concern and disappointment palpable in his voice. "Niklaus, you cannot continue down this path of destruction. Why must you resort to such brutality, brother?"

"I am doing what is necessary to protect our family," Klaus retorted, his eyes flashing with defiance, his jaw set in stubborn resolve. "You of all people should understand that, Elijah."

Freya watched in silence, her heart heavy with the weight of their emotions, the echoes of past conflicts reverberating through Klaus's consciousness. As the argument escalated, each word driving a further wedge between the brothers, their bond strained to its breaking point. As she watched them argue Freya saw a flash of realization cross Klaus's face. He wanted a break from Elijah's constant nagging and concerns about his choices. In a moment of desperation, he had lied to push his brother away, planning to reveal the truth only after spending a few years in solitude in Europe. She understood Klaus's motivations, his desire for solitude, and respite from the constant expectations placed upon him by Elijah. Yet, she also recognized the pain it caused him to distance himself from those he held dear.

Having unraveled Klaus's inner turmoil, Freya retreated from his mind, drawn back to the cargo hold of the plane where their siblings' coffins lay in silence. She hovered over the coffin that had a small, unnoticed marking with the initials 'A.O.' She sunk into the coffin, hovering over her brother, Finn's desiccated and daggered body. She sensed his agony as he suffered in silence, unable to be heard, trapped in his own mind.

Whispering an incantation, Freya transported Finn's coffin out of the plane, holding him suspended in the air with her ghostly grip. She entered his mind, allowing him to glimpse her spiritual form and offering a fleeting moment of connection before she allowed him to plummet into the Atlantic Ocean below with a splash. As Finn descended into the watery abyss, Freya's spirit raced back towards the cottage, reuniting with her physical body.

The aventurine crystal, once a beacon of power, cracked and crumbled to ash in her hand. The particles floated into the air and went inside a blonde-haired porcelain doll wearing a green newsboy cap, green overalls, and a green and white checkered button-up shirt seated on a rocking chair in the corner of the room. The doll's body jerked in place, its head turned to look at Freya's coffin before it got up from its chair, its feet silently shuffling across the floor of the room toward the door. The doll raised a hand and the door opened by itself. It walked out into the hallway and the door closed behind it with a quiet click.

Freya's awareness dimmed and she fell back into her slumber. It wasn't until she sensed Finn's mind, twelve years later that she was able to wake up fully and she sought him out, sliding into his vulnerable, potion-addled mind and guiding him to her side, reuniting them at last.