Disclaimer: The Originals does not belong to me.
Summary: 1x16 – What if Elijah was not fast enough to protect Rebekah from a murderous Klaus?
Author's note: As I have a perpetual love for dramatics, I took upon myself to slightly rewrite episode 1x16 in which Klaus is hell-bent on killing his sister. This fiction starts before the trial of Rebekah and somewhere in the beginning of the episode. Hope you like it.
Something is missing now that you are by yourself
Betrayal.
Anger was surrounding him – hot and boiling. It was making his mouth dry and his blood turned to ashes. He evaded Elijah's try to refrain him from getting close enough to their sister so he could inflict bodily damages to her.
When he faced her, he could only think about plunging the White Oak Stake into her very essence.
Treachery.
The weapon first pierced Rebekah's chest and then her heart in a squishy sound and for a second, as he looked the astonishment paint her features, as her deep blue eyes rounded in shock and pain, and as her pink perfect lips exalted a gush of air, his complete and immeasurable wrath turned into mirth and he smirked darkly at her and at his success.
Punishment.
Behind him, he heard Elijah's lone cry of anguish and the clattering of a dagger dropped on the leaves covered pavement.
The delicate looking hands - although quite strong and resilient in truth – were raised in a defensive gesture beforehand, and as they now involuntarily felt onto his shoulders, their fingers touched the hair on the back of his neck and the thumbs caressed his jaw.
« Nik, » the word stumbled from her quivering lips.
It was then, at that single half word that he realized what he'd just done.
Family.
All rage evaporated him and unprecedented dread hit him full force. His smirk vanished and sorrow overcame every one of his features. He stood frozen, in an immeasurable amount of time – most likely fractions of a second only – looking at the clouding eyes of his sister. She felt into him like a ragdoll, still alive, but barely. He caught her and fought to keep her standing but the gravity was fighting against both of them.
« What have you done! » Elijah growled somewhere behind him.
And then Elijah – Elijah the stoic, the well-mannered, the infinitely patient, the noble brother - was fighting him off of Rebekah, shoving him away in a fit of despair. Klaus landed on the chilling ground but stayed there, on his bum, shell-shocked, and observed with horror the result of his reckless actions.
Horror.
Elijah bent down and let her lay gently on the tiled ground, careful to hold her head as to not further injure her. Her breathings were coming out haggard and in rapid successions.
« Elij - » another word from her - almost spoken, almost whole, but not quite.
Elijah caressed her face, marring the pale flesh with paths of red.
« Shhhhh, Bekah. Keep calm, I'll fix this, I promise. »
Lie… White lie.
And this was it – the first instance of Elijah breaking his virtuous word. And he couldn't have chosen a worst moment to do so.
Klaus looked as his brother removed the stake swiftly from their sister's body – she whimpered in pain and the sound only served to worsen his own remorse. His brother then pressed a hand to the gushing of overflowing blood and he proceeded to bite his free wrist, offering it to her.
Regret.
It that very instant, he was assaulted by a succession of souvenirs from past times. A small girl, holding a wood knight figurine and smiling sweetly at him - a fierce but tiny almost woman, standing up to an angry father – a glorious woman, tear stained cheeks, being punished for loving too much.
« Bekah, » Elijah urged « You have to drink. Please… » he stuttered in anguish, his tone begging as he caressed the blond tresses of the youngest sibling in his arms and as he pressed his own wounded flesh to her lips. « Please, drink. Please, » he repeated, his voice choked by emotions, by wrecking sobs.
But she couldn't.
Klaus could only stare and let a silent tear rolled down his cheek as he witnessed a lifeless hand falling. He leaned his head against the smooth stone of a tomb, blinking out tears. He found it increasingly difficult to breathe as a sob wedged between his ribs and chocked his airway.
Sadness, sorrow, heartbreak. Lost.
« No, » Elijah bent his head and gripped the lifeless corpse in his arms, hugging it dearly to him.
Emptiness.
A.N.2: Thank you for reading.