Hey it's me again with another one-shot. I just have a lot of feels when it comes to this show and this is my way if releasing stress. Hope may seem a little advanced for her age (I made her two because that was what Hayley said her age was in 3.19) but I based her off my own little sister's actions when she was two. But then again, we taught my baby sis to say 'Darth Vader' at that age which should tell you about our priorities life. Actually that kind of explains her evil genius at the age of 3 tendencies. So this is a one-shot but if enough people like it and I feel like it I might continue this. So anyway, read, review and enjoy!
Klaus took a deep breath as he stumbled inside his room, putting a hand on the wall in a weak attempt to brace himself. He managed to drag himself to his child's nursery, needing to satisfy some instinctual feeling inside of him, needing to know that at least one of his children had not been ripped from him. Needing to hold his little Hope, keep her close so he would not lose her too.
The emptiness gnawing at him from the inside was overwhelming even as he clutched his baby girl to his chest, the thought of whom he had lost that night too great to process. None of them could possibly understand what Marcellus had been to him. None of them, save Elijah. Elijah, who had helped raise him. Elijah, who had been there through the years, who had seen firsthand the bond between the two. Elijah, who had ripped his son's heart from his chest. His brother, who knew better than anyone, that his love for Marcellus was the same as his love for Hope.
It hurt to know that his son's death came at the hands of his brother. That Elijah had ripped out Marcel's heart without hesitation to prevent a prophecy. A prophecy that, were it not for his need to protect Hope and somehow keep Hayley and Elijah from losing each other amongst everyone else they had lost, he may even have embraced by this point, having lost mostly everything that could matter to him. When had their roles been so irrevocably changed? When had it become Elijah who would destroy the world for their family? When had it become he who held back his brother, who cautioned him against such actions?
It broke him that much more inside to know that his son- his son had died hating him. He had died in front of him, with rage in his eyes, vengeance on his lips and Klaus? Klaus had been powerless to prevent it. And he couldn't help but wonder, had he done things differently somewhere down the long path that had led them to this point, perhaps- perhaps Marcel may still have been alive. Alive to love him, to hate him, to simply be there, even if it was to destroy him. Maybe it wouldn't even have mattered. Maybe, no matter how differently things had happened, they would still end up here. He would still end up, inevitably, utterly, alone.
He sank to the floor, legs giving out underneath him, unable to hold him anymore, but his arms holding onto little Hope all the more tightly. There had been nothing left but pure hatred in the younger vampire's eyes as he spoke his last words and now he could never mend their fractured relationship.
The two year looked at her father with large, expressive blue eyes, her bond with Klaus informing her that something was very wrong. "Daddy?" She questioned innocently, squirming in his grip to be able to look at him properly, putting her tiny hands up to his face. "Why crying?" She asked as her small fingers brushed against a familiar wetness.
"Because I am sad." Was the only answer he was able to give her, simple as it was. The child pressed a firm kiss to his nose, a place on her own face he had often kissed before.
"No more sad now. I make better, Daddy. No more sad." She settled on his chest, burrowing into the comforting warmth provided by her father, satisfied by the small upturn of his lips at her actions. Her small hands clutched tightly to his shirt as she slowly slipped into the warm embrace of sleep.
"If only it were so easy, love, but yes my littlest wolf. You do 'make better' as you put it." Klaus sighed, Hope could only ease the burden so much. As he had told Hayley, Marcel was as his child, no matter how much the younger vampire had denied it.
His battered heart gave way as he finally allowed himself to feel all that had been lost over the past few days. He allowed his heart to shatter, again and again and again as it took in the dead and the betrayals, trying to come to terms with all that had been broken without a second thought. As it held onto the memories of the words exchanged and the words that had never been spoken, words that perhaps may never be spoken, the ones that would be held on to for all eternity. And as the memories broke him inside, tore into him, shard by jagged shard, he allowed himself to dwell upon the words that had fallen from his adopted son's lips, words that had created wounds that would remain open and bleeding for a long, long time. And he pressed a shaky kiss to his daughter's forehead, trying desperately to find something to hold on to as his own memories slashed him apart from the inside out, searing themselves into his eyelids, ghosts of voices whispering in his ears.
Marcel had said that he had never treated him like a brother, that he had never truly been a part of this family. He had been right in one aspect and could not be more wrong in the other. He had never been a brother to Klaus, the hybrid had only ever, could only ever, see him as nothing less than a son. He had mourned him once, when Mikael had first tracked them down to New Orleans, mourned him for years, unable to as much as speak his name most days and now it would seem that he would mourn him again. Mourn for what had been and for what was lost through his own actions and the actions of his family. And he glanced down upon his hands, hands that held on so tightly to Hope, the same ones that had held onto Marcellus and he could see them clearly as they had been. Covered in and dripping with blood physically and metaphorically. Setting Hope in her crib, he clenched and unclenched his hands. His littlest wolf deserved better than to be tainted by him, by the darkness he was surrounded by. The young child was slumbering, having fallen asleep in his arms, yet she moved closer towards him as if subconsciously. He sat down next to the crib, unable to bring himself to pick her up again but unable also to leave her right now, needing to be close to her but also to protect her from himself.
As hot tears blazed trails down his cheeks, his mind was burning with Marcel's last words to him. And Klaus couldn't help but think, maybe he was the villain of this story. Maybe everything he touched turned to ash because of his actions and his alone. Camille had died, his parents had thought him an abomination, Mikael hunting him down for a millennia because of this belief. Rebekah had already left once because he had become a monster no better than his father, could he truly blame Marcel for his feelings?
But damn it, he had been trying! He had been trying, for so long to be better than what he was. To end this cycle of hate they were trapped in, to choose family over revenge. And he had! For once, he was willing to let go of his chance to put down his demons, to fight another day so that his family would not suffer because of those who wished him harm. He had stayed his hand, done so without a second thought even!
And then, because of the promise that Marcel had condemned, he had stood by his brother's side, sharing the blame for a decision he hadn't agreed with.
This family had ripped itself apart over and over again to the point where Klaus had sometimes wondered how they were even still standing, with more scars than anything else binding them together. They were a study in dysfunctionality, that was undeniable. But something others, including Marcel it appeared, tended to forget was that they were all willing to break apart heaven and raise all the demons in hell for each other. The younger vampire was included in that list, whether he believed it or not. At the end of the day, they stood united against their demons despite what Marcel believed.
And he wondered where he had gone wrong with Marcel that he hadn't understood, hadn't believed in, the lengths they went to for each other. The lengths Klaus would have gone to for him. He regretted that he would never be able to prove it to Marcel. Pulling himself up off the ground, he kissed Hope's forehead, trying desperately to ignore the ominous feeling building up inside him. Prophecies and curses were not so easily broken despite Elijah's belief to the contrary. But he knew he would protect those whom he had left with his last breath. Today was the last time he would allow his hands to be stained with the blood of those he loved. And this time, this time he would honor his dead. Carry them with him instead of locking them away in his heart. This time, he wouldn't hide away his love or leave it to question. This time he wouldn't be ashamed.
So II'm not entirely sure about the end but watching the show it kind of felt like for a long time Klaus might have been afraid perhaps of showing he cared. He was closed off for a long time, pushing people away and never letting anyone in. He actually reminds me a lot of how Damon was and its really nice to see how both characters have progressed from where they were. To be honest, I think that Marcel was expecting too much from Klaus because he isn't a character who's going to let go of his need for power so easily or quickly. It's just not who he is. Not when anytime someone's been more powerful than him it means he's either hunted down or those he loves get hurt. Anyway, that's just my opinion. I'm probably biased cos Klaus is my favourite character.