𝘌𝘝𝘌𝘙 ° 𝘒𝘓𝘈𝘜𝘚 𝘔𝘐𝘒𝘈𝘌𝘓𝘚𝘖𝘕

SEVENTEEN | MIDNIGHT STRIKES |

GOLDEN LIGHT WAS WHAT SHE OPENED HER EYES TO. Sunlight streaming in through the windows, the warmth of his arm wrapped around her waist, their legs tangled in the silk blankets, muffled sound of live music just below in the streets of the French Quarter. That was what Rory awoke to. In that moment, everything was right in the world. She was well aware that not everyday would start this way, but she was enjoying it while she could.

"You're staring."

She turned her head toward Klaus, raising her brow at him.

"I'm just thinking how your lovely image should grace a canvas," he said with a devilish smirk. "Ever more beautiful carrying our child."

"Yes, I'm sure she will love growing up with her mother's naked body mantled up on the walls of her home. Speaking of the baby," his eyes widened in momentary worry as she continued, "She is somehow kicking both my bladder and my rib right now. She's like a little gymnast in there."

His hand spanned across the roundness of her belly. With his touch, the baby ceased her kickboxing efforts. Rory flinched slightly at the coldness of his silver ring, but watched him caress their child with a smile.

Months ago, he could stretch the ends of his fingers to each end of her hipbones, now his palm could only cover half of her belly. He could feel his child move beneath the skin. He felt infinitely more human. "I am glad you stayed. I don't wish to miss out on anymore of her development. Don't apologize anymore—" he stopped her attempt with a shake of his head. They had both hurt each other in the past, but that was over now. "—what's important now is that we are united, in all senses, now and forever." They locked eyes again.

"I'm very much real," Rory said, "this time," she added with a twinge of guilt.

"So, you did indeed enter my subconscious realm the other night." Klaus was more amused than upset as he trailed his index finger down her bare shoulder. "That's not a spell from my mother's grimoire," he noted curiously.

She didn't get how magic worked exactly, but she had enough of a grasp on it to make it work for her purposes. She wondered if she as it was less sacrificial and ritualistic in comparison to the magic she had witnessed so far from the French Quarter coven. "Bex taught me about the whole dreamscaping trick. Kind of. It was instinctual I guess," she explained, "I just missed you a lot and tried to manifest visiting your dream. At the time, I was just realizing how in—too deep I was." She hoped he didn't catch her slip again. Her hormones were astronomically out of control.

If their child was powerful enough to bestow Rory the ability to channel magic from the womb, then Klaus could only dare to imagine what their child would be like fully grown. Klaus wondered if Rory would only have these abilities as long as she was pregnant or if the pregnancy was enough to turn Rory into a semblance of what their tribrid daughter would become. Or if Rory could be considered the first tribrid technically. The situation was starting to resemble the chicken or the egg paradox.

"It is probably best we keep your newfound abilities on the down low," Klaus advised her, concerned that it would add another target. "Wouldn't want to give the witches another reason to make an attempt on your life."

"As if they need another," Rory snorted indelicately, thinking of how she could hold her own. She wasn't just any plain human as she had believed at the start. "The werewolves want reparations, the vamps want to keep their hold over everyone, which doesn't help your daywalkers walk around like they own the place, leading hunting parties if they so please. Imagine if the wolves had their own wolf-version of daylight rings. That'll certainly even the playing field."

"I think I might be able to get back to you on that," The egregious sound she had made widened Klaus' smile. He hadn't stopped smiling since he had awoken. "In regards to my mother's grimoire, where is it? You brought it with you, right?"