𝗜𝗡 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗖𝗛 Kai Parker's little sister, Elizabeth after escaping her prison world, sleeps with the only vampire that can procreate, just her luck. Being pregnant with a miracle child, what a joke.
[Klaus Mikaelson]
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.。o○o。.★.。o○o。.
It had been a few weeks since Rebekah left. Klaus had all but abandoned interest in his kingdom, preferring to lose himself in painting or spending quiet days with Elizabeth—something she didn't mind in the slightest. But even as he smiled for her, Elizabeth could see it: the wound Rebekah left behind was still raw. After all, it wasn't just betrayal. It was the knowledge that, on some level, his sister had wanted him dead—to be free of him. And no matter what he said or how callously he acted, Klaus loved his sister deeply.
Elizabeth headed toward his art studio, expecting one of their usual painting sessions. But as she stepped inside, her stomach turned. He wasn't alone.
Genevieve.
The redheaded witch who had once tortured Rebekah now lingered at Klaus's side like an unwelcome shadow. She'd made her infatuation with him painfully obvious, showing up uninvited, brushing her fingers across his arm, speaking in hushed, suggestive tones. In another life—under wildly different circumstances—Elizabeth might've entertained the idea. Genevieve was beautiful, magnetic even. The kind of chaos Elizabeth once found enticing.
But not when she was after her man.
She trusted Klaus—never questioned his loyalty. But pregnancy had made Elizabeth feel bloated, exhausted, and achingly human in ways she hadn't expected. Genevieve, with her perfect skin and willowy frame, was a bitter contrast. Insecurity wasn't something Elizabeth felt often, and she hated the unfamiliar sting of it.
As Klaus painted, Genevieve leaned in too close, her fingers trailing along his arm. Elizabeth's jaw tightened.
It had been far too long since she killed a witch.
"Go away, slut," Elizabeth said coolly from the doorway.
Genevieve turned, scowling but refusing to budge. Klaus looked up from his canvas, a smirk tugging at his lips.
"Come now, sweetheart," he drawled. "Are you actually jealous of Genevieve?"
Elizabeth nearly grinned at the witch's wilted expression. Instead, she snapped, "Yes, I am! She looks hot. Hell, I'd probably sleep with her if I wasn't—"She caught herself, stopped before the word in love escaped. Instead, she floundered. "If I wasn't pregnant with your daughters. And let's be real—I look fat, and look at her—thin as a rail, like some sexy Victorian ghost. Shouldn't her body be decomposing or something?
Klaus laughed, which only made things worse.
Paintbrushes clattered as Elizabeth grabbed a nearby pot of blue paint and hurled it at his head. He caught it midair, but some splattered across his face.
"Bloody hell!" he snapped, dabbing at the mess with a rag. "Must you throw things without reason?"
"Yes," she pouted, crossing her arms with all the defiance of a sulking child.
