Carpe Diem || KLAUS MIKAELSON

PROLOGUE

Phoebe had never seen anything die before.

But she could now say that she'd never seen anything worse, or lived anything worse.

It was awful.

Heartbreaking, bone-chilling, mind-shattering and gut-wrenching -all at once.

And to say that, once upon a time, she had felt a certain appeal to Death.
This appeal lived on in her favorite Tarot card, her favorite fairy tail, her favorite myth, even.

When she'd been but a child, her grandmother had told her tales of the Afterlife -a place so horrid and utterly lonely, the souls of the deceased had no other wish than decay and any sweeter damnation. As it turns out, dead men tell the longest tales -The Other Side, they called this one.

And then, there was the place her father was.

This place, which she often liked to imagine as an open meadow she'd seen in the farthest corners of Philly, held no shortage of good souls, kind ones, who were as fierce as they were obedient and selfless, albeit had lost their self along the way, for it was their only sin.

Their hearts though, their hearts had remained pure and unscathed, even when faced with the atrocity and loneliness that came with Death.
She'd come for them one final time after being denied for so long for some, while others had let themselves into her embrace upon first sight. And that, that single inconstant fact, made for the beauty of it.

Her grandmother used to tell her that there was no sweeter or better relief than death after a life well spent.
The prospect had seemed far out of reach then, and six-year old Phoebe had merely smiled sheepishly, holding anything that had to with magic in a small box of memories she held dear in the farthest part of her brain.

Still, she'd never thought twice about Death, not even when she came to reclaim what life had birthed -her father, her grandparents, her dearest pet hamsters- none of it mattered, because as she well knew, nothing was ever immortal -Nature always found a loophole.

The loophole of all things, the everlasting constant in the grander scheme of every living thing, past or present, was, and would always be Death.

Countless times she'd come for nearly everyone she care about, and countless times she'd surrendered, almost always willingly.

Death was something no one and nothing could ever wish to escape.

And those were the first thoughts that crossed her relentless mind upon her dreadful discovery.

Realization had not struck yet, but her mind was barely processing.
One moment, she was staring into his eyes, those bright, nevertheless drooping eyes as he held his hand out in a silent plea, his breath coming out sputtered.

Red had always been her favorite color, but as the saying goes, too much of one thing is a killer, literally.
It was as if there was red everywhere -on the fresh leaves below her feet, on the surrounding trees, down his clogged throat, on his shirt -everywhere.

Then, by some unwelcome miracle, her gaze strayed from the red puddles scattered around the woods, and wandered to his face.
She found his expression forlorn and beyond sad, or perhaps she just couldn't dissociate it from excruciating pain -the pain that came with dying a brutal death.

She found herself staring into those two beady little eyes, the last of his sputters coming out ragged from his clogged throat.

His head fell back with a crack and his arm fell limp against the ground, for he had breathed his last. The sight was even more horrendous and dreadful than the act itself. Ironically, the moment he'd actually died left her breathless, and would haunt her forever.

She couldn't tear her eyes from the sight -not when a passing breeze swept along the leaves around his body, arranging them in a bed, a red resting place.

A distant part of her brain was vaguely aware that her name was called, once, and then twice, however she couldn't focus on anything else than the soft thrum of the corpse's heart as it stopped beating altogether.

When thinking about the ever-present Death, she'd never thought twice about this: the overwhelming silence that came after.
After the last beat. After a life well spent. After a murder.

Muffled footfalls crushed the dead leaves scattered around the dark woods as they stumbled upon the sight, his blood-slicked shoes glistening under the gleam of the moon.
At last, she could tear her eyes from the horrid sight, from the victim, but only to put them on the culprit.

Her gaze trailed up his horrid form first, taking in his dreadful aspect.
He was a beast; a psychopath.
He enjoyed the chase and the thrill that came with taking one's life -he marveled in it, even.
He might as well have had murderer splattered across his face in deep, crimson red.

He'd done this.

This was all his fault.

She'd tried to stop it but- he'd been too strong.

The grief swallowed her whole at once and she nearly fell to her knees, finding her entire world giving under her feet. The crisp air rapidly engulfed her, unaware it was both unwelcome and useless, for her blood was already running cold.

The pain came a second later, hitting her like a truck, and she had no choice but to let the knife slip from her bloody fingers, and onto the dry red bed of dead leaves.

Post -credit note dated from two years ago (quarantine took my sanity) :

Hellooo there! Hope you're all staying safe and healthy!
This is a fanfiction of the Originals' -scratch that, of the TVDU's- best character, Klaus Mikaelson, pairing our favorite hybrid with an Original Character, created by yours truly.

Her name is Phoebe and she's in her teenage years, but you'll find out more as the story goes on -wink, wink, multiple hints to keep reading!

You may portray her as whomever your imagination's deemed worthy enough to be Klaus Mikaeslon's eventual love interest, but I see her as Phoebe Tonkin as I am an unassuming Klayley Shipper.

Stay safe, healthy, hydrated, hot, and enjoy!

Sincerely, Mya.