By now, Betrayal should be an old friend. He had certainly experienced its despicable embrace too many times in his painfully long life to be sincerely surprised when, inevitably, it happened, but still …
Still he was played the fool.
Still he fell into the oldest trap in the world.
Loyalty. Love. Lies.
Trust.
Belonging.
… family.
... how mortifying.
Again and again, they were his undoing. And again and again, just when he had started to forgive and let bygones be bygones, to allow those fragile seeds of trust to sprout their roots in his soul and heart, and finally everything started to look as if he could have the one thing he had always desired above all else – he was burned.
Burned by those he loved. Again and again and again, until all that remained were the stench of betrayal and the taste of rage. And each time, like a rehearsed play that never seemed to fray or fade, no matter how many times the same failing untalented actors repeated the very same disastrous actions with the same pitiful unsuccessful consequences, they were surprised at his immediate reactions, at the irrevocable fact that beneath the cool suave arrogance he lived and breathed, feelings dwelled, so intense and burningly bright that it couldn't be described as anything less than a raging inferno. Still, it was stunned surprise that greeted him, surprise at his anger, his pain, his need and thirst for vengeance. And how bitterly that particular truth tasted, that his never permanently taken revenge against those that wronged him was seen as the real evil.
He was seen as evil.
A monster.
Guilty until proven innocent … but whoever would go forwards for him? For the evil hybrid that all good little vampires, witches and werewolves feared? Who would ever argue for him, pleading for his life, for whatever small slivers of humanity he had actually retained?
Who would believe that he had a heart?
He had once thought that Camille, lovely sweet Camille O'Connell, beautiful kind Camille who as the only one alive knew the whole truth, about him, about his past, about Aiden's demise and how against popular opinion the big bad wolf had actually cared for the ambitious pup and wouldn't have killed him … foolishly, so utterly foolishly, he had hoped that she would stand with him. That this time around, he wouldn't be forsaken.
How very wrong of him … to put faith in anyone else but himself.
Oh, he had taken the blame for Aiden's death, why not? They had all been only too happy to hate, despite, loath and shun him once more. It was so easy! And, well, it's not as if he hadn't actually ever admitted to having killed the little wolf, but what did it matter? Technicalities. He didn't deny it, so he was the culprit, and even if he had rebutted their accusations, they would have called him a liar. But just as he hadn't truly anticipated his family's sudden reactions to his supposed newest act of murder, he hadn't anticipated Camille keeping her silence of his innocence even when he had been so cruelly temporary disposed of.
And once more assumption made an ass out of him.
Because here he had ended up, fool that he was once more for falling prey to love and kindness, his mind caught in an endless abyss with just too much time on his hands and too many thoughts in his head. Here he was, essentially dead to the world, his body caught in frozen stillness and every fear he ever swallowed mercilessly forced upon him, playing on an endlessly repeating loop that showed him the best and worst of a thousand years spent alive …
He saw his triumphs, and his defeats, and how in the end, while he may not have won every battle, he always won the war. Deep inside his heart, he could acknowledge that a lot of perceptions, of assumptions others made about him were born from his own actions … but not all. Not all could be explained or excused with his past misdeeds.
It was pathetic that he couldn't even muster up the strength to devise a truly satisfying plan of revenge upon his treacherous siblings. For the first time in over a thousand years, Niklaus Mikaelson didn't thirst for revenge, for vengeance, for the blood and pain of his enemies, allies and family alike, slowly suffering beneath his formidable skilled hands, their horrified useless pleas for mercy ringing like honey in his ears.
No.
This time, he only had one determination, one single thought that kept his sanity as intact as it could even be.
'I'm done.'
For a thousand years, he had tried to keep his family together. He had tried to protect them, to shield them, from their murderous self-righteous parents, from the cruel cold world, even from themselves when mistakes threatened to destroy them, and for that, while not aloud, he had silently accepted their need to lay the blame solely on his feet. Admittedly, he hadn't always played it right, he had made grievous mistakes in his actions and interactions, but in the end, all he wanted was to preserve their life and happiness.
And wasn't that ironic. Why did he have to be such a needy creature?
What kind of masochistic moron does that?
Oh, no one would see it like that. They would look at him with disgust should he ever voice his thoughts, with anger and hate. He, the Original Hybrid, the despicable monster that every supernatural creature feared or was at least reasonable wary of, masochistic? Protective? No no, he was evil, scum, all bad that ever happened to his family, that friends, acquaintances and even their bloodlines suffered, everything devastating and despair-inspiring naturally originated from him. He … was the root of all evil. The devil made immortal flesh.
It must be so nice to live such a simple clean-cut life.
Living life like that … was one experience he had never sampled.
But who would care?
He was Klaus Mikaelson, selfish, arrogant, and heartless – he didn't protest the first two, they were the simple truth, and he felt no shame in admitting them, really, they were not bad traits to have, but the last … the last was so deeply wrong, it wasn't even funny in the least. Quite the opposite, in fact. His problem had never been the lack of a heart. No, his problem was that while he didn't care for many and was very selective in choosing those he let into his life and heart, once he loved, he loved deeply and without abandon. He loved so hard, fast and unconditionally, that few if any could ever begin to comprehend the depth of his feelings. It was disturbingly easy for even those he loved to describe him as a monster, merely because he cared for them, and once he cared, he didn't let anything happen to his beloved people, be it by their own or another's hand. He was too possessive and protective for that.
Sadly, few if any ever thought about his reasons.
It was so much easier to take the monster at face value. And he allowed them their self-delusion. He had done his part in this never-ending play, again and again and again …
Strangely, he had always done exactly what everyone expected, and by meeting their expectations and gifting them with satisfaction and justification, he robbed himself of any chance for his own happiness. Not that he still believed in it. Happiness was a fools dream.
But this time …
This time ...
He was … done.
With Elijah.
Rebekah.
Kol.
Finn.
Freyja.
Esther.
Mikael.
Dahlia.
Marcel.
Camille.
Hayley.
The only one who would still matter to him once he woke up was Hope. His beautiful innocent daughter. His brilliant guiding light. The reason he fought to build a home out of ruins. She was all that still mattered, the only one he would care for.
If they wanted an unfeeling monster as their friend, their brother or son, they would get exactly that. He would show them what it truly meant when Niklaus Mikaelson ceased to care for them, but he wouldn't do it with violence – no, sometimes, a bit of good old-fashioned psychological warfare was much more effective than any pain could ever be. Besides, starting now, he would be a parent that his daughter could be proud of.
He wouldn't have the spare time to plot their demise.
How strange. Klaus would have never imagined just which direction his life had taken nowadays.
Retrospection was indeed more useful than he had given it credit for. Hope was his blood, the light of his life. His reason to keep going. The only family he could count on not betraying him.
And his treacherous siblings?
They could go to hell.
Always and forever?
Their … vow?
Maybe … if Hope hadn't been born. Yes, if Hope hadn't been born, maybe he could have overlooked their betrayal, daggered them in return, taking his revenge and after a few decades all would be good until the next time they were feed up with him. But 'maybe' wasn't an option any longer. He had someone so much more important to care for now than his own ego. They could try as they wanted to rip his heart apart again after this – he would not give them the pleasure of success. They would never have that kind of power over his heart again. He would not make the mistake of trusting in his family once more.
Always and forever?
Ends now.
Elijah could have all his siblings; he could have his oh-so valued moral high ground and chivalry. His little werewolf whore and vampire musician. Let him have his civilized play at being human, at being Klaus' better.
Rebekah could love who she wanted. Marcel? Why not. And if the little boy broke her heart? If he left her in pieces, shattered beyond repair? Her decision. He was finished dictating her life. The traitors deserved each other.
Kol would never have to fear being daggered again, because Niklaus was done cleaning up behind his little brother. He would help resurrect him, that much he owed Kol, but after that, no more.
Finn could be as self-loathing and hateful as he wanted. Let him plot their family's destruction. He was over catering to his older brother's whims and getting into arguments for the sake of it. In the end, he would still be the villain, even if he saved their siblings. Always and forever … the same damn song. Klaus was sick of it.
And Freyja, poor lonely Freyja who only wanted to be welcomed with open arms in a time of disaster, plotting how to gain their siblings favor and destroy Klaus' bond with Elijah and Rebekah, well, who was he to deny her dreams? She could have the family she always wanted without feeling threatened by the only logically thinking being in their midst. Truly, she was more than welcome to those little traitors.
Let them fall like Domino stones.
It was time to let them go. It was time to stand on his own and let his family do the same.
There was one good thing about being daggered by your own older brother when you finally thought you had the family whole and hale together for the first time since their transformation over a thousand years ago. Well, good in a manner of speaking.
It rips away any delusions you had over just how much you meant to anyone.
And it gave you purpose. Direction.
Clarity.
Niklaus Mikaelson was finally ready to let go. He was done being their willing scapegoat.
He was so done.
It had been two months since the showdown with Dahlia and since Niklaus had been revived by their aunt. Rebekah and Elijah had expected their brother to rave, to try and dagger them just as they had done to him, but Niklaus … had done nothing of the like. No dagger, no curses, no denouncement. He actually hadn't done anything or reacted in any way they had anticipated. Instead, he had been acting … nothing like the brother they had known for over a millennium.
He had been utterly calm. Collected. Cold. His gaze never lingering on them, skipping over Rebekah, Elijah and Freyja as if they weren't even there.
It felt like they were caught in the twilight zone.
The Niklaus they know wouldn't have released Hayley and her wolves from Dahlia's curse that had forced them into their animal forms, he wouldn't have peacefully accepted shared custody of his daughter with the condition of Hayley living with them, and neither would he have left Marcel and Davina alone or resurrected Kol and Finn.
Elijah didn't know what to think.
On one hand he was relieved, deeply so, because this a-typical behavior could be taken as tremendous progress or personal growth, but on the other hand … a part of him hoped that the other shoe would drop soon, allowing things to go back to the state they called normalcy. Because if it didn't, if this distance that had grown between Rebekah, Freyja, Kol, Finn and himself and their volatile brother was not merely an deceiving reaction of Niklaus to being daggered, if this was how it would stay from now, the new normalcy, status quo … Elijah didn't know if he could stand the cold way his own brother treated him infinitely.
Like a stranger.
Uncaring.
He had no idea just how natural and reassuring Niklaus innate protectiveness and possessiveness felt, how heavily he and his other siblings depended on their brother to stick his claws into them when they started to tear each other down and force them into compliance, until it was gone. This feeling of home, of the safe knowledge that Klaus would never allow them to drift apart, the security to feel right and complete as a family … seemed like a far-away dream. Now.
Because this, the way things were now, felt truly wrong.
And there was nothing Elijah could do.
There was no one he could blame but himself.
Elijah had thought that he had been doing the right thing. That it was the only way to save his family. At the moment, it seemed perfectly reasonable. Now, looking back at how in the end it had been Niklaus who had been right, who had been prepared and with a plan to save not only his own life like the selfish man they called him, but first and foremost that of his daughter and their family, and how his beloved brother behaved now …
Elijah turned away from the scene in front of him, from his happy little brother who smiled gently down at his sweet laughing daughter ignoring Elijah's silent presence, and closed his eyes, pain and longing coloring his features.
He had never regretted anything more than shoving that accursed dagger into his brother's fragile heart.
~ The End ~