Mrs Mikaelson

Chapter 44

Father Kieran was dead. Marcel, Nik, and Genevieve had tried to help him overcome his hex but failed. Even their last resort, which was to turn him, didn't work. For a moment they believed the hex to be gone but then it only reappeared ten-fold and then they were left with no choice but to kill him quickly and painlessly. His funeral had been one of those where you celebrate life rather than mourn it, but Nik was more concerned with the funeral he dreamt of the previous night.
It had been a dreaded dream, a truly torturous nightmare. He had walked into the church for Father Kieran's funeral. As he made his way up the aisle, he watched as everyone else lined up to have a moment before the opened casket, to say goodbye. Nik had stopped at the front pew to think about how truly strange it was to see his wife, whose stomach was flat, sitting next to Genevieve who was sitting next to Marcel. Yet, when he turned back to the altar, the casket had been closed. Nik's brows furrowed before he took a deep breath, preparing himself to open the coffin. But he could never be prepared for who lay inside.

Father Kieran wasn't inside his own coffin. Lying atop soft silk cushions, was a gorgeous baby girl with bright blue eyes - his daughter.

It was certainly a surprise but Nik had smiled at the little girl. "Hello," he cooed before he reached down to pick her up. Except he never got to touch her because he gasped as a white oak stake was stabbed into his chest. And who was his would-be murderer might you ask?

None other than his ever-loving father, Mikael.

Blood spewed from Nik's mouth as he turned around on shaky feet to face his father and he was no mirage this time as he grabbed his face. Nik had been filled with pure fear as his father held his face, and he spied the dead and desiccated body of his wife splayed over the pews behind Mikael.

"Greetings boy," Mikael had spat at him before Nik had scared himself awake.
His wife at woken because of his distress as he panicked, begging her to wake up and to not be dead. The image of her being dead had been way too real for his liking. Not to mention the paralysing fear that he was going to be exactly like his father when his child was born had him completely hysterical as he'd sobbed in Isa's arms.

Now they sat at Kieran's actual funeral as Nik nursed a glass of whiskey, his hand still linked with Isa's. Nik was on his third or fourth glass when Elijah approached them, leaving Katherine and Marcel to talk as he set a bottle of whiskey down on the table and took a seat.

"If you're coming to tell me anything that doesn't involve alcohol, I suggest you don't," Nik said as he downed his glass.

Isa merely squeezed his hand under the table.

"What seems to be the problem with you today, Niklaus?" Elijah drawled as Nik dragged the bottle over the table and ripped off the lid.

"I am going drink this bottle and the next, in the hopes of drowning the demon that has chosen today to haunt me. Cheers, Mikael. Impeccable, Freudian timing," Nik grumbled raising the bottle before taking a swig, abandoning his glass entirely.

Elijah sat forward, brows furrowed as he ordered, "Elaborate. Have you dreamt of our father?"

"Go ahead. Have a good laugh. Yes, okay, I'm afraid of being a terrible father," Nik spat before drinking again.

Isa squeezed his hand as she said, "You know that's not true."

"I can assure you that there is no piece of this that I find even remotely amusing, Niklaus," Elijah said. "Especially considering, I've been dreaming of him too."

Nik's arm froze from where he was going to take another swig as Isa's eyes widened. "That can't be a coincidence," she proclaimed.

"Perhaps our elusive, unknown enemy is orchestrating a further attack," Nik wondered aloud as his eyes landed on where Genevieve had walked into the building, smirking at them.