Klaus sighed, listening to his father hack and retch in the room opposite his. His mother cooed, soothing him with her words, but it was no use. He had been plagued by a disease even the doctors could not explain. Mother had even called in those who claimed supernatural powers, despite Father's protests, but even they were baffled.
"NiKlaus!" His mother called. "Please answer the door."
No one had knocked, but he knew what she meant. She had another one coming, another Witch. It was beginning to startle the youngest son, Elijah, but Klaus typically got him to relax. Fredrick, however, always mocked him.
"Oh, the Sorceress will fancy one of us, Elijah," He teased. "She'll take us away! Keep us as slaves."
"Oh, silence, Fredrick," Klaus huffed.
"NiKlaus, so dreadful." He scoffed. "How will you ever survive with such a lack of humor in your weakling bones?"
Klaus almost cursed him but the soft knock on the door silenced him.
"Shh," Fredrick hushed Elijah. "Don't speak."
"She is not here to condemn us, damn it, Fredrick!" Klaus boomed. "She is here to help our father!"
He through the door open and stopped dead in his tracked. The rain drizzling behind her added to the supernatural glow that seemed to encircle her. She was small, fitted snuggly into a gown fit for the ball, and hid beneath a cloak of Royal Purple, saved for Kings and Queens due to richness of the dyes required to create the beauty of violet. Her face was half hidden by the hood, but Klaus was nearly hypnotized by her perfectly shaped lips. She pursed them to a pout, and ran her tongue over them before purring out in an accent Klaus was unfamiliar with, "I am merely a servant of Hecate. I am here to heal, not harm."
He cleared his throat. "I - I apologize for my brother. He is a fool."
"You judge," She observed. " 'Tis poor manners."
"Yes, NiKlaus!" Fredrick scolded. "Shame on you!"
The Witch looked at him beneath her hood, her lips curling in disgust. "Then again, perhaps you were correct in your assumption."
He cowered, which made young Elijah tense further.
"Where is the man who ales?" She asked Klaus.
Just as he was about to answer, his father, Nicholas, let out a death cry of agony, screaming out as the pain Klaus could only assume was blinding took him over once more.
"Ah," Is all the Witch said, and she pranced down the hall and into the room.
Not wanting to be with his eldest and youngest brothers, Klaus followed.
His father lain on the bed drenched in sweat, a damp piece of cloth pressed against his forehead above his bloodshot eyes, surrounded by dark veins. More veins were prominent on his cheeks, and his eyes grew darker each day. He looked like he was being drained of his life . . . and his bodily fluids. It was startling to see him so ill. Klaus winced.
"St-st-stay away from me, Demon!" He croaked, growling in pain and screaming out again. "Josephine!"
"Shh, love," She cooed. Klaus noticed the tears in her eyes. "Shh. She shall help you."
"No," He groaned, looking up at her desperately. "I beg of you."
She averted her gaze, kissing his soaked forehead and nodding to the witch.
He whimpered but did not protest further.
Klaus bit his lip when he saw her pull a small blade from inside her cloak, and she sat down. For the first time in his life, he's witnessing his fathers fear. It scares him more than words can say. "Your palm," The Witch says.
He reluctantly lets her take his hand, and winces when she slashes it. He hides his face in Josephine's red hair, his breathing heavy, as if he as just ran ten miles with no water or rests. The Witch looked at his palm as if reading a scroll, at the blood that was darker than usual seeping into the lines. She ran the pad of her thumb over the lines, studying them with interest, a look of shock on her face.
"Well?" His mother prompted. "What is it?"
She gave the woman a grim look. "You would not believe me if I told you."
"Please!" She cried as the Witch stood and began walking to the door. "At least tell us the cure!"
"There is no cure." She pushed the hood of her cloak back, revealing her eyes to his mother and not him. Curiosity flared and he cursed himself for thinking of such trivia when his father's survival was a matter of the conversation. "Either kill him now, or let him continue to suffer until he turns into a creature of the night, or Erebus, and then you take a stake and drive it through his stilled heart."
His mother gawked. "Get out!"
She shrugged her shoulders and turned back to Klaus, her doe brown eyes piercing his blue ones. He swallowed, and she grinned.
Then her face went dark. "You . . ."
"P-Pardon?" He stuttered.
" 'Tis not just your father . . . 'tis you too. 'Tis all of you."
"I said get out of my home!" Josephine blubbered, clutching Nicholas protectively.
"Wait . . ." Klaus whispered, following the Witch out quickly. He was outside under the down pour by the time he caught her. "What do you mean? What's wrong with me? Us?"
"Erebos touches you as Iapetus abandons thy," She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"Pardon?" He was beyond confused. "Who is Erebos? Iapetus?"
"Erebos is God of Darkness, whereas Iapetus is the Titan of mortality. Erebos wants you as his own creation, and Iapetus is leaving thee and thy family behind. You are doomed."
"Please," He said softly, terrified now. "I beg of you. Does this mean we all shall suffer? Suffer as though he suffers?"
She nodded sadly. "I am sorry . . . but yes. Thy fate is sealed."
He looked away, swallowing hard. He was cold now, cold and scared. He imagined now this is what his father felt like; damp and fearful, not wanting to hear the truth. Not wanting to be told he was going to die screaming.
"I am so very sorry, NiKlaus."
"Please," He sighed, "Klaus."
She nodded. "Klaus, then."
He looked up at the sky, spilling icy rain water down into the poor's buckets and darkening by the second, before looking back at her. "Stay."
"Your mother will not appreciate," She stated.
"I do not care," He told her. "I want you here. I want you to be here safely instead of out here, in the rain. Something could happen."
She grinned. "You fancy me, Klaus."
It wasn't a question. He flushed. "I beg of you."
She hesitated, reveling in his bashfulness, before nodding. "Alright. I shall stay."
He smiled slightly, walking her back to the front door. "Wait . . ."
She looked at him. "Yes?"
"What is your name?" He asked. "I was not told."
She smirked. "I am Charlotte Petrova. Pleasure to meat you, Klaus."
I am just too excited about Season 3 to come out (Sep. 15! :D) So I'm writing my idea of the originals...IDK when this idea hit, but I just had to publish it! Tell me what you think? Pwetty pwease? :)