"I must confess, I have a secret." She spoke softly, like a demon in disguise. Klaus's skin crawled as he forced himself to remain stone walled. "Your wife... she's not who you think she is. She's as devious as you if you let her. Perhaps you should ask her for the truth about your daughter... Hope? Was that her name?" Her fingers touched his face and unwillingly, he closed his eyes. The dark demons stirred in their slumber that Klaus forced them to stay in. Before he knew it, she was close to his ear, whispering. "She handed your daughter over to your father, like a pig to a slaughter."
The pain in his chest from the blade was no where near close to the stab of pain he felt when he heard her 'secret'. There was no way Hayley would give their daughter up to his father. That rat bastard? No. Klaus refused to believe it. Somewhere deep down, his body betrayed him as he felt his eyes begin to water. Willing himself to throw the walls up, Klaus looked at her through dark and devious eyes. "She wouldn't."
Klaus was in the dark. And it wasn't the kind of dark that came with a room that didn't have any lights on or when you were walking around at night in the country. This was not even the kind you got when you shut your eyes and wrapped your head in a blanket. This was the one that seeped in through your skin and filled the spaces between your molecules, the one that polluted your flesh into a permanent state of rotting, the one that wiped clean your past and your future, suspending you in a choking, adhesive solution of sorrow and despair. He was not alone in this horrible prison.
As he writhed in the weightless void, others did the same, their voices mixing with his own as pleas escaped from cracked lips and the endless begging for mercy rose and fell like the breathing of a great beast. From time to time, he was chosen for special attention, clawed monsters with fanged maws latching on, yanking and pulling. The wounds they imparted always healed as quickly as they were wrought, providing an ever-fresh canvas for their masticating artwork. Time had no meaning; nor did age. And he knew he was never getting out.
This was his due.
This was his eternal payment for the way he had lived his life: He had earned this place in Hell through his sins upon the earth, and yet still, he argued the unfairness to the others he was trapped with. Tough debate, though. There was little on the good side to support his bid for freedom; more to the point, nobody was listening. An ache filled his chest, so sharp that he sucked in a breath.
"Yes, against all your warnings about your father, she went and disobeyed you. You disciplined her for it before had you not? Harshly from what I understand." Her hand went to his knee, making it's way up his thigh... "Oh, you don't have to convince me as far as I'm concerned you only needed one. That it suited you. Have you read the old testament? God wasn't powerful because he was right... he was right because he was powerful.."
"I have my reasons." Klaus growled, jerking forward, trying to get release from the restraints. "I don't know what you're playing at... but if the sum total of your plan to turn me against my wife was this revelation... this will have been an unholy ineffective endeavor."
"You poor thing. After a thousand years, dishonesty from your family has come to be expected. I wish that was the sum total of their treachery. Unfortunately, it's not." Her hand went to his torso and lifted the black cotton. Bloodied bandages met her gaze. The cursed witch's blade stuck deep in his chest, his hybrid healing ineffective against the wound. The blood that sat just under the surface of the gauze was blacker than the darkest night. Still, his body betrayed him. Once a powerful and vicious hybrid, Klaus was forced to endure the endless hell that she'd put him in by the blade. It was as if he had caught a deadly case of the flu. The undead flu. Dark circles showed thick under his eyes. His eyes, which were a bright greyish blue, were now a dull, dark grey nearing the color of death.
They say the passage of time will heal all wounds, but the greater the loss, the deeper the cut, and the more difficult the process to become whole again. The pain may fade, but scars serve as a reminder of our suffering, and make the bearer all the more resolved never to be wounded again. "My wound isn't healing." His voice was hoarse. She had plunged that cursed blade right into his chest, it's point always piercing his heart. He was immobilized, imprisoned in a state of raw, inescapable anguish. Time lost all meaning. It's not unlike a living hell, it was worse. Klaus had been through worse, but nothing like this.
"A lot of dark magic contained in that blade... it's going to take a while." Still, Genevieve continued to tease him. Hands and feet bound, there wasn't much he could do to fend her off. The dark demons were simmering just below the surface, so desperately trying to break free from their iron chains. They want any amount of misery and Genevieve was giving them just that. Misery. The saying of 'Misery loves company', well that couldn't be any more true than in that moment.
"What do you want, Genevieve? You're a witch.. back from the dead, seeking vengeance. Why show me any amount of kindness?"
Again her hand went to his face, but this time it was soft and almost loving in the way she held his face in the palm of her hand. Almost. Fingertips stroked the side of his face, her voice nothing but a whisper. "You never did anything to me... And the truth is, seeing you like this.. I can't help but pity you."
Klaus's eyes darkened as he tore his gaze away from the wall just in front of him and looked up at her. "Well... then betray the others, who are clearly controlling you and stand with me." With as much strength as he could muster in his current state, Klaus inclined his head forward. Her hand still resting on his cheek. "You know me, Genevieve.. I'll reward you..." He gave her one of the devilish smiles that she so desperately adored on him. "..in ways that you cannot possibly fathom."
There was a moment of silence before Genevieve's face lit up. "The infamous Klaus Mikaelson... offering a deal to little ol' me? I'm flattered, Klaus. Really I am... but first, we need to have a little chat about this wife of your's." Her hand slowly slid from his face as she turned away from him. Damn. Klaus thought he had her right where he needed her to be to free him from this cursed blade... from the restraints too.
"Hayley, is of no concern to you." Then his voice grew darker. "If you mean to harm her..."
"Ah, the protective husband. A shame that loyalty isn't reciprocated. But then, I'm no stranger to treachery. Something you and I have in common. Here." She brought a vial over to him, opened it and forced it to his lips. He forced the traded words down, tasting sour cherry syrup over bitter lemon peel, and spices that recalled a nameless sorrow. Klaus knew the taste. "Drink. I'm just trying to help you. Heal you. Get you to see the truth that's been right in front of you for almost a century." Genevieve held her hand over his mouth until she was sure he had swallowed it all. She spoke softly to him, words that Klaus's mind couldn't fathom to be true or not. "Your wife had an unfortunate run-in with some wolves last night. I imagine you're tasting the venom in her blood. It's the only way I can show you what you need to see. In your weakened state, I'll be able to guide you down memory lane. That's how I'm going to have my revenge. By showing you her betrayal."
Klaus nearly choked on the god awful potion. His body trying it's hardest to reject the venom. It wasn't the first time he'd been poisoned. It had been a few years since he'd been poisoned, though. His body took to the effects quickly, shaking slightly as his head hit the back of the chair, unable to hold it up any longer than needed. "Your wife's treachery with your father was only the beginning. You see, the burden of your condemnation was too great, and as a result your deepest fear came to pass: that her love for safety would overshadow her love for you and turn it into hate. Klaus, they conspired to rid themselves of you for good." Klaus's body shook slowly but violently. It was going to be a long way back from Hell.
Klaus refused to listen as he shook his head. "ENOUGH OF YOUR LIES!"
"Don't dismember the messenger. Part of you must have known, suspected at least. Your father came to New Orleans to kill you in the 1920's, did he not? And as the city burned, he nearly succeeded." Genevieve tried to touch his face again, but Klaus tore it away from her grasp. This time, he sat up, the restraints pulling against his wrists, his voice dangerously low. "Hayley and I have done some terrible things to each other over the years, but she would not betray me! No matter how angry she was!" Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that. We've all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That's who we really are. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable. He was tired of being vulnerable.
"It's sweet of you to believe that, to believe in her, but by the time we're done you'll know just how wrong you are." His mind linked with her's, she showered him with images of what she believed to be his wife's betrayal. Some part of him knew deep down that Hayley couldn't do something like. Not give their daughter away to his diabolical step-father who only had the idea of revenge in mind and nothing else. Countless images flashed behind his eyes as his head hit the back of the chair once more, his mind exhausted from trying to fight her visions off. Countless images, one by one past, each one telling a small piece of the story until the whole picture was revealed to him. How his sister betrayed him. How his own blood conspired to get rid of him. He forced his eyes open, breaking the link to their minds temporarily. For the time being. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill down his cheekbones. "I'm sorry. I know how much this hurts. To see what she did To see who she really is. But you needed to know. You needed to see it. And now that you have, you can take your revenge. Our revenge." She held her wrist out to him, stirring the monster in him. She knew it was working, because the veins underneath his eyes darkened
"Please. Go ahead. You'll need your strength for what comes next."