*Enters sheepishly after peeking to see if anyone was there only to be met by things flying at me*
Hey guys...
I'm sorry.
This chapter was a dick to write; Klaus just was not cooperating and then I flew half-way across the world and jet lag fucked up my life... let's just say it's been a trying, crazy month and there was just no space for writing.
Until today, about 15 hours ago... When this happened:
I wrote this entire chapter in less than 12 hours. I was yawning my ass off by the time it was done and it was time to get to editing. I was half-tempted to give it to you without going through it, but there bits I was unsure of and I knew it would just bug the stuffings out of me if I read it once it was posted to find half a million typos and shit throughout. So here's the edited-by-me version; it took another 2 and a half hours to three hours just to do that-without a break. Let's just say I'm tired as fuck and I'm really achy, LOL. I'll be needing a long sleep after this is posted.
Anyway... just thank you for all your support and I hope this chapter finds you well and makes up for the lost time. It makes me annoyed when I think of just where we should be up to by now-and would be if it wasn't for writers block, travelling, and fucking jet lag. *Glares at those three like their actual tangible beings*
Don't wanna keep you waiting so I'll let you get on with it... see you down the bottom and enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 9 ~ Broken
Klaus was frozen in the doorway, not even able to draw breath, eyes glued to his mate's form. Disbelief echoed through his hazy, chaotic mind. He was brought out of it upon hearing a terrified whimper fall from wolf's lips as her head dropped onto her forelegs once more, eyelids heavy with exhaustion and pain making her form shiver. When she whined a low, mournful howl, he knew something was wrong and just the thought of it...
In front of her now, he dropped to his knees, ignoring the sounds of his siblings as their gasps hit his ears. No one had been expecting this. He paid them no mind as he lowered himself even further at her side to inspect the wounds, smelling her fresh blood and seeing it spilt in a puddle below her gorgeous chocolate brown fur. It enraged him but, as he gritted his teeth and took in a harsh breath, he forced himself to put Bella's wellbeing first; he had to make sure she was all right before he exacted revenge—she was the priority.
Confusion creased his brow as he took in the low, erratic heart rate and the continuous, scratchy moans of pain that at times rumbled through her body so low that even he, with his exceptional audible range, was straining to hear it. His shaking hand felt her fur and he was quick to find the source of the blood he could smell as his hand encountered warmth and stickiness. The find was punctuated by a wolfish yelp that jolted her body and filled him with remorse as he removed the silver dagger from her stomach cavity. Tears of anger and pain pricked his eyes at the sight of his beautiful other half weakened so, even as he didn't quite understand how—and indeed why—she had deteriorated so fast. It was true that silver weakened the wolf kind—their kind—but the symptoms were far too exaggerated for that to be the sole reason in this case. He sniffed again, leaning in against her to smell for anything else that would have caused it, and the growl he released upon finding the answer was loud. It promised pain to those who'd harmed his mate.
Wolfsbane.
So, his mate had been given wolfsbane and then stabbed—both combined were sure to cause her this amount of pain, this amount of weakness and this slow a heartbeat that indicated just how drained she had been from the ordeal… but there must be something more amiss.
With a renewed urgency, he looked up into his mate's eyes, his pupil dilating and an answering film taking over her eye as he murmured words to her. "Change back to your human form, love, now."
In all the time that he had known his mate, he had, to be sure, thought up numerous ways her sweet flesh would be revealed to him for the first time. Never in any of his wildest imaginings had it been the result of an attack that made her activate her werewolf gene. It was for this reason that as fur gave way to milky skin that he gazed at her without seeing her, without being able to witness her beauty with the true admiration and attention she deserved. A part of him mourned the thought that the first time he was seeing her like this was in this circumstance, in front of his family no less as they waited by the door. But he paid it all no mind as his sweet Bella let out an ear-splitting screech, her body bowing under the pain as sobs wracked her body.
His eyes were wide, crazed, and tear-filled as he took her into his arms and pressed a hand to her cheek, feeling her skin—she was flushed, and heating up more and more by the second. Confusion dominated before another screech echoed through the concrete room and understanding lit his blue eyes.
The bastard's venom.
Upon her next cry, his roar mingled with hers and, joined, their twin sounds of pain and anger shook the building. Edward Cullen would rue the day he ever met Isabella Swan, ever dreamed of biting her and tarnishing her with his venom. His fate had been sealed long ago, upon Bella's first encounter with him so destined was her meeting with Niklaus… the sole thing that had changed was now instead of a rather quick death to hastily obliterate him from the face of the earth, he would beg for his death long before such a gift was received. The three other Mikaelsons at the door itched to move forward and help but knew that in this state they had to stay back.
"N-Nik?" he heard a whimper. Broken out of his thoughts, he looked down at his mate to find her glassy eyes on his face, her hand reaching for him even as she shook in a most violent manner. His hand swooped down to capture hers and he leaned down over her as if to shelter her from any other threat. "Nik, I… I have to tell you… I'm sorry I couldn't before…"
He knew. He knew what she was going to say and the tears in his eyes streamed down his face because he knew what she was doing; she was saying goodbye. But that was not allowed; a thousand years of torment and pain… he wasn't allowing the one good thing that had ever happened to him to slip through his fingers so fast after finding her. His mate was destined to be his Queen, at his side as they ruled over New Orleans for the rest of forever. Her leaving him was not part of the equation.
"Don't," he whispered to her, his voice hoarse as he shook his head, a fear in his gut rising to grasp his heart and clench it in its tight, unrelenting fist. "You will not die, Isabella. You mustn't say it."
She ignored him. "I love you," she whispered and, on the next breath intake, a violent cough shuddered through her body. She began to turn on her side and Klaus helped her, cradling her so tenderly in his arms that tears pricked her eyes anew.
"I love you, too," he whispered in her ear, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead and a brief peck to her lips in quick succession before he forced himself to lean back. He glanced at her hand to make sure she was wearing the ring that would bring her back to him just in case, but he was a stubborn mule and so he would not admit defeat so quickly. In the next second, he raised his wrist to his mouth and bit down hard then brought the blood-dripping limb to her mouth. Her eyes were unseeing as she drank what he offered her, her eyes sliding shut. The wound healed, source of blood removed, and a sigh left her as she drifted into unconsciousness, the intensity of the pain becoming too much for her, it seemed.
A stony expression took hold of Niklaus's face and he lifted his precious mate into his arms, holding her with gentle grace but still gripping her with enough strength that everyone knew just how affected he was. He swept past the rest of the onlookers, unseeing as he flashed his Isabella back home, to the Abattoir.
Little did any of them know that she would not awaken for longer than any expected, and the loneliness, the brokenness, fracturing Niklaus's very soul would worsen.
~TPoL~
Three weeks.
That was the amount of time that had passed since the last time Nik had seen her gorgeous brown eyes, since he'd felt her warm embrace clutch him to her as they slept in their shared bed, since he heard her sigh those three words that tethered them together forevermore.
Three weeks had passed since Niklaus Mikaelson had lost his mate.
She was not dead. She was breathing, and her heartbeat filled the entire manor… but she had not awoken for even a second since that fateful night she had turned for the first time and no one could figure out why. Her condition had not improved nor had it worsened; instead, it appeared to be stuck in a state of stasis.
And as for Niklaus, it appeared the same could be said for him as well. He had not moved from his mate's side even once, he had not raged, he had not slaughtered, he had not fed on anything but blood bags his siblings had brought him. He'd not even spoken a word. He was… silent, and the light his eyes had held with his mate had died alongside his mate's unconsciousness. He was blank, with a hand clutching his mate's and his eyes riveted to her being, it was just the slow heartbeat and steady breathing that confirmed he was in fact there at all.
His siblings were there to remind him of the ring firmly affixed upon her finger, of his healing blood running through her veins and replenished daily, of the fact that her condition had not worsened (unspoken was the ringing true fact that neither had it improved, of course)—these reminders they gave so often even as their eyes were plagued with a deep-rooted pain as they watched their brother lose his mate and with her his sanity and there was nothing they could do to stop it. But his eyes never strayed to even glance at them.
He was there… but he was not there.
He was broken.
And he would continue to be until his mate awoke.
But inside him was a whole other story.
The wolf and vampire within the hybrid were pining for their mate and, with each day that passed, their anger rose to a bubbling under the surface, the pain and the loneliness of not having her with them unraveling Niklaus's mind. The echo of her laugh drove him to insanity, and the distraction—the reprieve, the healing balm—she was from his own pain, which she stole away with a grace and ease he had never seen before… it all tormented him. The absence of her was enough evidence to him that he was now broken without her, the loneliness he had always felt crippling him now that he knew what it was to be with her and without it.
All this—the façade that he held on the outside—crippled, gave way to the hurricane inside, the day that Marcellus Gerard came to visit him.
Niklaus's 'son' had been summoned by Elijah, who'd not just wanted to speak with him himself but had also hoped his presence would awaken his younger, fractured brother in one way or another. Right now, the three other Mikaelsons could not find it within themselves to care whether or not it was through violence, anger, and pain that their brother was snapped out of his state because the truth of the matter was that any reaction was an improvement.
And thus began a long-winded speech of hope, of apologies, of "just say the word and I'll do it for you's." The speech was met by the same reaction any of the others from his siblings had and, with a sigh and slumped shoulders, an upset, defeated Marcel turned to leave. It was a low murmur—the voice gruff and thick from three weeks' disuse—that stopped him, made him raise his head and straighten his posture as he stood in the threshold.
"If she dies, Marcel, this city will burn... and everyone with it."
The threat made Marcel turn to his maker and he was met with hollow, weak golden eyes and fangs. The gaze was held between the two for just a few more seconds before Niklaus broke it and turned back to his mate, his expression now cleared and his visage no longer visible. Marcellus took that as an indication for him to take his leave, turning on his heel and walking out only to be stopped again.
"And Marcel?"
He pressed his lips together in a grim line denoting his irritation then appeared again in the doorway. There was no shared glance this time as Nik traced his fingers over his mate's features in sweet and tender movements, almost reverent in his touch and gaze—a stark difference to his cold voice.
"Bring your mate to me. I wish to speak with the girl who shared a cell with my mate before—" he cut off, gesturing to Bella's body, unable to say the words that would complete the sentence. His tone left no room for argument even as Marcellus hesitated, his mind a war against having just promised to do anything he could and the need to protect his mate. He heard the sigh and glimpsed rolling eyes from his 'father,' the next words spoken with light amusement. "I will not harm her, Marcellus. I merely wish to speak with her, as I said. It is time we did something about my mate's less-than-desirable state." He had been awoken from his stasis, from his freeze, his entrapment. He was ready now to do as needed—anything—to bring her back to him.
Marcel was still hesitant as he turned on his heel and made his way downstairs in a flash, finding his mate, Davina, and the three Mikaelsons with expectant looks trained on him as soon as he appeared. He smiled and nodded at the Original vampires with false-sincerity, knowing they had heard the entirety of the encounter, Elijah stepping forward. "He will not harm her, Marcel, you have my word."
Camille's brow furrowed and she stepped forward, wrapping her arm around her mate, who curled his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. She knew that he was upset about something from his tight hold and the tension residing deep in his every muscle so she worked to calm him with her own deep breathing and reassuring grasp, her arms coming down to lay over his around her as she leaned into him.
"What's going on?" she asked him, her lips at his ear as she strained her neck.
Marcel's arms tightened even more around her and he only tensed further upon hearing her question. He glared ahead at the three Mikaelsons for a long moment before sighing as his words to his own 'father' figure echoed through his mind. He'd promised anything and this was what Klaus wanted; granted nothing with Klaus was ever fucking easy, but he'd said no stipulations behind his offer and he'd been promised his mate's safety… even though it was technically after he'd threatened Camille and any others he had ever cared for.
Camille's brows furrowed as Marcel descended into his own thoughts, her eyes straying after a few minutes of reigning silence in the party to the three Mikaelsons, questioning with the crease of her brow and her parted lips.
The three looked between themselves then up toward the room that held their brother and his fallen mate. Elijah took initiative, nodding and stepping forward, a pleasant smile on his lips as he, in not so many words, threatened Camille into compliance. "It would appear that our brother wishes to speak with you, and I believe it would be a good idea for you to do so."
Her frown deepened and she glanced at her mate, wondering at both his tense posture and the reason behind it. She'd heard of Klaus—Marcel spoke of him often, and almost always favorably. So it didn't make sense that he was now, all of a sudden, concerned about her meeting him—it made her cautious, suspicious, too. "Why does he want to speak to me?"
Kol and Rebekah snorted, a smirk appearing on Elijah's lips. "It may have something to do with the fact that you shared that cell with her, darling," Kol answered with a raised eyebrow.
"And now she's unconscious," Rebekah continued in a much darker, lower tone than Kol's false-unbothered one. Her arms were crossed over her chest as she regarded the fellow blonde in front of her. She was missing her friend and sister, and bloody furious at the thought that she wasn't getting better. If it wasn't for the fact that Bella had already killed that bastard Demetri—and thus unlocked her werewolf gene—she would have him hanging upside down and dripping venom until he ran dry for weeks… and then pull fingers and toes, then limbs and all until, at last, he was in pieces and ready for her to light him up. Her fingers twitched and her anger raced burning hot in her veins at being denied such a vindictive pleasure.
Kol glanced at his sister, seeing the fire in her eyes, and he brushed her hand against his in a silent show of support, smiling at her when she glanced up at him. He was hurting, too. The past three weeks since he'd met his mate had been focused on his siblings rather than her because, like it or not, family was important and his brother was hurting, his newest sister in a coma. He was alike Rebekah in his desire to punish Demetri but he waited, knowing he'd have a chance at the rest of the treacherous Volturi later on... hopefully. He'd harness his anger into doling out their punishments when the time came.
Camille looked between the blonde and two brunets, her eyes unfocused as she thought through what they were saying. It made sense, of course, now that she thought about it. She'd been with Bella before and during the time she'd been hurt and they'd bonded over their mutual captivity—even if it was just a little and even if Bella was to blame for Camille being there in the first place. "Okay," she said with a nod, "I'll meet him."
Marcel's arm tightened around her waist as she moved to step out of his hold and she turned to look into his eyes. The three observers didn't even pretend not to be watching their every move with interest, Bekah in particular as she watched on at how different Marcel was with this Camille to how he was with her a hundred years ago. Not because she was interested in him—not at all—but rather because he was the first mated male she'd seen that she knew quite well apart from her brothers and it intrigued her to witness his side of the connection… to perhaps see how—
She bit the inside of her cheek and swallowed, ripping her eyes from the couple as Camille negotiated with Marcel about seeing Klaus alone. The pain was swelling inside her again and her breath hitched on the next inhale; she blocked every thought of him, unwilling to go down that road for the thousandth time. That road meant nothing but pain and there was enough of that going around in the Abattoir at the moment.
Elijah and Kol shared a glance over their sister's head at her strange reactions, light frowns adorning their alike, handsome faces.
"Fine," Marcel's barely-restrained frustration rang through the four letter word as he looked over his mate's head, releasing a harsh sigh. "But I'll be right outside the entire time, okay?" His eyebrow was raised in a manner that told Camille that he was not going to be denied that no matter how she tried to sweet-talk him.
The blonde nodded without a word, a small smile on her face. She turned to Elijah, Rebekah, and Kol, who left their own thoughts and smiled back—though Rebekah's seemed more like a grimace, she noticed—and then Elijah came forward to take her and Marcel upstairs. When they reached the door, Elijah opened it, Niklaus already having beckoned them to enter, and in walked Camille, leaving the other two to wait outside.
Camille stopped just a few steps inside the doorway to look around the room, taking in the scene. Klaus's attention remained on his mate while he caressed the top of her head. The only sign that he was paying any attention to the human who'd just entered was in his raised, tensed shoulders and locked jaw. He sighed after a few minutes of silence and spoke, never even turning to look at the new girl in the room—his "son's" mate. "Sit," he told her in that low, gruff but still somehow exhausted aloof tone and Camille took half a step back before doing as he asked, opting to sit on the other side of Bella, in an armchair against the wall.
"You asked to see me?" she said in a quiet voice, watching him closely.
"Indeed," he confirmed with a nod. "I understand you were held by the tracker as well. I wanted to see what happened during that time."
Camille's brow creased, and she leaned an elbow on each thigh. She swallowed and looked down then back up at him as she asked, "See?"
He smirked. "Yes, see. If you would come here, I would like to use my ability to enter your mind and see your memories for myself—I need to know everything and it's faster and easier for the both of us if I simply look upon them myself rather than have you tell me." He glanced at her for but a nanosecond, raising an eyebrow. "Don't be shy, love. I won't bite."
Camille blinked at him, her heart thudding with an emotion she could not quite identify. It wasn't fear, per se, more intrigue with a little trepidation. But knowing this was not something she could say 'no' to, she rose from her seat and came to stand at his side in slow strides, her unease at being so close to the Original Hybrid, alone, was clear as day in her every move and the beating of her heart. Klaus sighed, knowing he'd have to disengage himself from his mate, and moved his eyes with a slow distaste to the blonde woman in front of him that reminded him far too much of Caroline for his liking. His next exhale was another harsh, impatient sigh as he reached forward and touched just the tips of his fingers to her forehead. He closed his eyes and pushed forward into her mind with his own. He knew he'd entered it when he saw the flashes of memory and he sorted through them with a quickness that gave an indication of just how uncomfortable he was in this somewhat-vulnerable state—never mind being disconnected from his mate for the first time in three weeks.
When he was finished, his eyes snapped open, Camille's doing the same at a far slower rate. Klaus's eyes flashed amber as his mind raced, the images of his mate's captivity still at the forefront of his mind and he looked down at her, his jaw locking and nostrils flared as his left hand came down to rest with sweet gentleness atop Bella's forehead, the fingers of his other hand lacing through the fingers of one of hers where they rested on her abdomen. He breathed in harsh, short pants of air in a skewed attempt to calm himself, leaning in to kiss Bella's cheek, his forehead resting against it as he breathed in her scent, his breaths slowing as the images glimpsing behind his fluttering eyelids drifted. It was then that he knew what he needed to do and, without looking at her, he dismissed Camille, his eyes never straying from Bella as he began to do as he should have done three bloody weeks ago.
A few seconds later and he had entered Bella's mind with his own, a smile lighting up his face as he stalled on memories of a much younger Bella, but he became serious once more when he saw memories of her in the woods outside her house with a werewolf—her father—and then as she was told the story of their family. He gasped upon hearing that her ancestors had resided in Mystic Falls a thousand years ago and had indeed been one of the prominent families in the wolf pack that he'd been born from.
He raced to her older memories of when she was preparing to leave Forks, and growled so loud the sound bounced off the shaking walls at her fear, her tears, and her pain—from the connection to Edward, and from Edward's hands, too. But he was intrigued to come across the answer to his silent wonder—indeed, it was so that her appearance in Mystic Falls had not been a mere coincidence. Her then-dormant wolf side had been pulled to Mystic Falls and to her mate, the pull unrecognizable to her—the sole reason being that she had no idea of her heritage. But the pull was strengthened again by the fact that ancestors from a thousand years ago had also come from Mystic Falls, and her wolf longed to be in the place of her ancestors, of her true home, her origin. He was shocked she had not spent any time there earlier in her life, the pull just as strong to her (unconsciously and without her gene unlocked) as it had been and still was for the past thousand years for him—a call, an ache, from the wolf to go back.
With a concentrated frown, he went back to her earlier time with Edward, starting at when they had first met and through the rest of their relationship, his anger rising more and more as he watched the many withering encounters she had endured from Edward—the abuse, the terror, the feel that she was powerless… all things he himself had experienced over and over for the past thousand years at the hands of Mikael. It enraged him to think that his mate had suffered the same fate also at the hands of someone who should have loved her instead of instigating such unadulterated fear.
With a deep breath to try to calm down, he forced himself to leave the collection of memories of her time with Edward and instead concentrate on the memories he'd seen from Camille's perspective beforehand. His eyes clenched shut tighter, his lip pulled back in a snarl, as he felt from her what he'd felt when he had changed—confusion, fear, and pain, these emotions warring within her before the haze took over after he had arrived… her love for him and her hatred at his pain, the will she had to speak those three words he'd longed for his entire life if it bloody killed her.
But upon watching the events occurring within just her mind after she fell into her sleep, he gained even more answers—perhaps the key to breaking her from this stasis. As Bella had feared before going under, it was true that Edward was breaking through the walls built from her relationship with Klaus and her shield—Klaus's prolonged separation from her had allowed Edward to get in. His presence in her mind as he fought her for control over her actions was what was keeping her in this stasis, and his venom still flowing in her veins from the bites along her arms and the back of her neck was keeping her weakened enough for no one to get through; it was Klaus's superiority to the cold one as an older and more powerful being and his status as her mate that allowed him to break through to see these memories… otherwise, Edward would have been able to block him just as his venom was currently battling Klaus's blood, his domination over her strong enough somehow to make his blood in her system null and void.
Thus, for them to awaken Bella, they had to relinquish the hold Edward had on her psyche long enough for her to strengthen and rebuild her shield and her connection to Klaus. Because Edward had been her mate for longer, had been with her longer than Klaus, he reigned supreme—much to the Original Hybrid's considerable ire. Gone was the importance of personal strength; the fact that Edward had infiltrated her psyche and taken over as her first-found mate meant that Klaus's attempts by himself would not work.
He needed to speak to Davina and Kol.
With a sigh, Klaus left his mate's mind, hating that he was abandoning her to more torment from Edward but vowing to get down to the bottom of it and rid her of him as soon as he bloody could.
It had gone on long enough.
~TPoL~
"And what can you tell me of Isabella's parents?" Elijah asked, the phone on loud speaker as he undid the cuffs of his dress shirt, the suit jacket on the back of his study's chair. He sat down with a deep, tired sigh into the seat, his hand curling into a fist, bent at the elbow which rested on the arm of the chair.
The witch on the other line sighed also, making Elijah frown and lean forward. "They are all fine as far as I can tell, though I can't say I believe they would tell me if things weren't dire. Charles is more worried than Renée and Phil, and he has been quite agitated the past few weeks—he seems unsettled."
Elijah sighed and rubbed his hand over his face. He now knew that the reason for that was because the wolf was recognizing a threat had caused harm to his daughter. "Keep an eye on him, if you would; notify me if there are any issues. I trust there were no problems with the latest move?"
"None," the witch confirmed, her short answer making Elijah smile.
"Very good," he praised her, his hand staying, a light pressure against the 'end call' button. "Thank you for this, Denise."
"Of course, Elijah," she said and then the dial tone sounded.
Elijah stared at the phone for a moment with a deep frown, his tongue peeking out of his mouth to lick at his lips. He raised his gaze toward the door then smirked. "There's no need for you to stay outside. Please do come in," he said in a nonchalant tone, his eyebrow rising as the door opened and in walked Rebekah, Kol, Davina, Marcel, and Camille.
Rebekah's arms crossed, a frown on her ire-riddled face as she regarded her brother. "What are we to do about the Volturi?" she inquired, the question leaving her mouth in a heated burst that spoke of how long she'd waited to ask it.
Elijah let out another sigh, his teeth gritted as his eyes narrowed as he contemplated her question. He shook his head. "We can do nothing. They are for Niklaus to deal with as he pleases once he is in the right frame of mind and Bella has regained consciousness. Our attention must reside solely on Bella's state until her condition is no longer so dire."
Rebekah's eyes flashed and Kol's fists clenched, his arms rising to cross over his chest, a matching pose to his sister. The two had always had a connection, so alike that some thought them twins and that was not only due to their close age—the rest spaced by years whereas Rebekah had been born when Kol was not even two. Granted, it was at some points in time that Kol's protectiveness when it came to Rebekah was worse than Nik's.
"Speaking of Bella, what is it that you think we should do?" Rebekah asked. "It's been three weeks and there's been no change in her. We've all tried to figure out why Nik's blood was ineffective and why she wasn't getting better or worse but we have been met with nothing but dead ends and let's face it—this is not something we've ever witnessed or experienced ourselves, thus we have nowhere to begin. Please tell me you have discovered something useful."
Elijah nodded. "It was not me. I have spoken with Niklaus. After meeting with Camille, he entered Bella's mind and made some… interesting discoveries. It seems that the primary reason that Bella is locked in this state is because of Edward—Bella had sensed that he was coming through when she was separated from Niklaus. When she was weakened further, he was at last able to break through and has since assumed utter control of her psyche. It was due to that control that none of Niklaus's efforts thus far have worked. Our brother believes that we will need a spell or two to relinquish Bella from Edward's grasp; only then will she wake once more."
Kol's brain worked double-time, his one thousand years worth of knowledge coming in handy as a smile lit his face a mere few thirty later. "Nik's right. We need to perform two spells—they're tricky and I doubt even Davina could perform them on her own—no offence, darling—but they'll work. I've heard of five or so witches performing them together on cold one mates to break them from their undesirable hold—the first one is not permanent; it doesn't break the connection, but it's more of a temporary reprieve when the mate is vulnerable and must be followed immediately by the second spell in order to hold. The first one is a twist on the classic unlinking spell. In cold one connections, biting the female into submission is very common so the spell will drain most of the venom to loosen the cold one's hold. The venom acts as a tangible means for control through the mind if so desired. It's a very popular spell." He looked at the other occupants of the room and knew that their other brother was also listening, so his voice was loud and clear the entire time he spoke.
"And the second spell?" Elijah asked.
Kol grinned, preening under the attention not to mention the thrill he got out of using his vast magical knowledge and putting it to the test; he always felt closer to the magic he had long ago lost when he did this. "The second spell is a binding spell. This is the more long-lasting of the two; it will ease the strain and make her mind utterly impenetrable to Cullen as her life force is connected to Klaus's; his strength as the Original Hybrid becomes hers. Thus, with Edward's influence broken, Bella will be released and able to wake up—I suspect within minutes."
And for the first time in three weeks, ecstatic grins and light-hearted, happy chuckles resounded through the building as the three Mikaelsons' hope was renewed. Their sister would come back to them.
No one bore witness to the wide grin and the excitement that colored Nik's eyes as he looked down at his mate. Knowing she would soon be present with him again lessened the strangling loneliness, the maddening brokenness. His entire being was thrumming, feeling almost alive again.
Marcel looked on with a small frown on his face, feeling uncomfortable being in the room—hell, in the damn building—during this obvious familial moment. He wasn't so sure that either he or Camille should be present, and he wondered again why Elijah had called him to the Abattoir. When he spoke his worries, he was shocked by the growl that tore through Elijah's throat. The Original was a blur as he stood from his seat at inhuman speed, veins webbed under his red and black eyes, his fangs poking out of his forced-apart lips. "You will stay, Marcellus," he said, his voice dark and threatening as he took precise steps forward. "If you do not help—for let no one be under the impression that you are not considered to blame for this situation we find Isabella in—then you and your mate will be among the first to die." He pointed to the ceiling. "The entire city will burn at his hand if he loses her, and I will not lose my brother."
"And nor will we," Kol spoke, knowing that his speaking for Rebekah and himself rather than the fairer of the two would have more weight in Marcel's eyes. The dark-skinned man knew of the fractured family politics that had played out the past thousand years, how removed from the rest Kol was—so for him to speak up would assure him they were as much the united front as they appeared to be.
Elijah smirked, his gaze, having gone to his brother and sister upon their brother's words, now returning to Niklaus's surrogate son. His eyebrow was raised as he spoke, voice gritty and yet so smooth it sent shivers down Marcel's spine, his mate, Camille, already shaking in his arms, her heart pounding at a most furious pace. "So if I have to force you to stay here, I will—by any means necessary."
Davina stepped forward then, taking a deep breath as all eyes shifted to her. "In order to perform the spells, I'll need contact with the spirits—they might be willing to send their power through me so I'll be strong enough to do them by myself. I'd rather that than contacting the elders to get a witch or two sent over from them. I'm still technically a threat as far as they are concerned and I'd rather not stir that up if I can help it."
The reminder caused Kol to sneer and step forward, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her against him with a fierce possessiveness, his expression dark, sinister, as he leaned his chin atop her head in a show of protection. This did not scare her, however; Davina was calm within his hold, his sure arms a reminder of how safe she was, how safe she would remain as long as she was with him. Safe, a voice within her sighed, and she settled deeper into his arms.
Davina and Kol were quick to leave in order to prepare for the spells—Davina would contact the spirits while Kol worked on finding acquiring the ingredients. Rebekah lingered for a little longer than them but, after a look from Elijah, she found herself escorting Camille to the kitchen for lunch. Thus Marcellus and Elijah found themselves alone and eyeing one another.
All of a sudden, Elijah rose once more and gestured for the other to follow him. Wearing his suit jacket, he led Marcel some ways into town though he did not stop there—instead deciding to journey further out still, away from prying ears. It was some time later—once they had reached their destination—that he turned back to Marcellus. When he did his brown eyes were darker than usual, his expression devoid of any emotion but irrefutably intense. His tone matched the intensity of his expression and darkness of his eyes when he spoke.
"The conversation over the phone that you heard between myself and my mate," he begun, stepping so close his body was inches away from being pressed into Marcel's, making the other man uncomfortable and quite intimidated, "you will erase it from your memory. You will speak of it to no one, and I mean no one. Any you have mentioned it to will be compelled to forget and if they are vampires they will be disposed of." He rose an eyebrow. "You will do this if you want your mate and yourself to live… without question."
Marcel's nostrils flared, his expression unreadable but eyes tight as he considered the words, eyes on Elijah. "I take it no one knows then?"
Elijah's eyes flashed then cooled. "No, they do not, and I would very much like to keep it that way."
Marcel sighed and nodded, his shoulders falling with resignation. "I told no one. You can compel me if you won't take my word for it."
Elijah's posh smirk glinted as he glanced away then returned his gaze to the man before him. "If you don't mind, I will take you up on that offer." He stepped forward again, in utter seriousness as his pupil dilated and the compulsion took hold with the binding words, "Who knows of my mate's identity?" he asked, searching Marcellus's eyes.
Marcel did not even blink as he answered. "No one."
His chin rose and his eyes narrowed then widened again in a movement alike a twitch. "And who knows I have a mate?"
"No one," was the monotone answer received.
Satisfied, a pleasant smile overtook the serious expression of Elijah's face as he gripped Marcellus's shoulder. "Thank you, Marcellus. You have indeed surprised me." His grip tightened, his eyes hardening. "I do hope you keep it that way, but just so we are safe…" His pupil once again dilated as he stared firmly into Marcellus's eye. "You will tell no one that I have a mate. If someone should ask, you will deny—even if it seems they have knowledge of their own about her. If someone should enter your mind, they will find no memory of the conversation you witnessed; it will disappear and instead they will find that I had no phone conversation at all with anyone. You will not find a witch to break this compulsion and you will deny the witch at any cost by any means necessary should they offer. Should any compel you for an answer, it will not work. In return, you will accept my promise that you and your mate will find safety and refuge in the hands of the Mikaelson family should you need it so long as you have not betrayed us in any way. Say 'yes' if you understand."
"Yes," Marcellus replied, again in the monotone typical of a compelled person.
A dark smile lit Elijah's face. "Good. Now return to the Abattoir."
Marcel disappeared with a whoosh from sight. Now by himself, Elijah took out his phone with a smile and dialed the number he had memorized but, for her safety, never saved. He sighed, far more relaxed in the moment he heard the sound of her voice as she answered than he had been since the last time he spoke to her.
"Elijah," she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. "It's nice to hear from you."
"You have no idea just how nice," he replied, his voice tensing again at the mere reminder of just why he had not called her in three weeks.
"What's wrong?" she asked, her tone lowering with concern, and he could hear her pause in her motions. He could hear the others speaking in the background and his lips twitched.
"You're in China," he said, voice light as he ignored her question, stalled answering it. He knew she would not let it go, not if it was affecting him so.
"Yes, I am, now answer the question," she said, and he could picture the raised eyebrow as she bit her tongue, her head cocked and a hand on her hip as she waited. She was impatient and stubborn—in a word, she was perfect for him.
So he explained, leaving nothing out. When he was finished, he heard his mate sigh.
"I may hate your brother, Elijah, but no one deserves that kind of pain," she said, her voice quiet and he knew what she was thinking; his own thoughts had drifted much in the past three weeks to the very same thing. "I can't even imagine what I'd do if… how I'd feel if…"
He sighed her name. The two said nothing for a few minutes, as always happy enough to be able to merely hear the other breathe, hear the sounds of the other's life—even as parts of them mourned at that life not yet being shared.
When their conversation ended, it ended as it always did; with those three words that were as close to an "I love you" as the two would get until they were reunited permanently. "I feel it," Elijah said, his mate echoing. They stayed on the line for a few more minutes before Elijah resigned to the fact that the call had to end there.
The dial tone sounded after drawn out goodbyes and Elijah broke out of his daze, determination now taking over as he left for the Abattoir.
~TPoL~
Davina sighed hard, the sound only heard by Kol over the cluster of witches all speaking at once in the small room due to his superior hearing. She glanced up at her mate and they shared a look of exasperation; first the spirits had refused to help, and now all of the living witches were causing a fuss as well.
"Look," Kol said, raising his voice to silence the witches., "all we are asking for is a few of your bloody witches to help us with two spells—we have all the ingredients for them already, all we need is two able-bodied witches for the job. I should think since you have already met with not just myself but also my brother before that you would know you should not refuse." He rose an eyebrow as he ensnared the elders with a dangerous look. "As you can hopefully tell, there is no cause for your worries about performing magic; those rules no longer apply."
A witch named Agnes was about to speak when the doors burst open and Elijah, with his vampire visage out for all to see, stalked into the room, the power and anger he oozed making every single witch—including Davina—step back. Even Kol was not unaffected to such a complete degree, his eyes widening as he took in his brother's ire.
Elijah stood in the middle of the room and spun as he pointed to the witches. His voice was booming, resounding off all four walls as he spoke. "Every single one of you will volunteer to aid Davina with no stipulations about her situation. She is the mate to my brother, here, and is thus not to be threatened. Any who threaten her will lose their lives. If you do not decide to help us, you'll quickly find yourselves without a heart."
A wicked smirk quirked Kol's lips at the appearance of the fabled Beast behind the Red Door. Indeed he was most curious as to what had caused his brother's lapse in control, but he was wise and shut his trap, choosing to watch without a word—in awe, he had to admit—as half a dozen witches stepped forward at a time. Elijah turned to Kol with a smirk and nodded with smug satisfaction at his own success before leaving the room just as intently as he had entered.
It was just a few minutes later that Kol and Davina walked out of the door with two weathered but powerful witches in tow. Kol hung back to speak to his brother, who had been leaning against the wall waiting for them, as they walked back. "So what had you so incensed, brother?" he asked with a cheeky grin and quirk of an eyebrow. "I don't believe I have seen you quite so angry since… well, since I died—even if Nik's nefarious planning meant you'd had to hide it far better than you did just then." Unsaid was the awe at the unexpected reaction he'd received.
Elijah's lips quirked and he glanced at his youngest brother. "Oh, it was nothing," he said, waving the query away with a gesture of his hand. He was quiet for a few more minutes before speaking. "I am tired of this, Kol; our brother is a shadow of his former self and Isabella lays in a bed in a coma she cannot wake from, tormented by her cold one mate. To come home after a few hours and find that almost no progress had been made was… difficult. I found myself here upon catching wind of the situation with the witches to help quicken things along."
Kol nodded in agreement; he, too, had found this whole ordeal taxing for a plethora of reasons—not the least of which being the toll it was having on his family. He was just thankful that it was all coming to an end soon; it could not come quick enough. He let out a low chuckle at an errant thought and, feeling Elijah's questioning glance, licked his lips and smirked as he spoke said thought. "You must admit though, the difference between the last meeting and this meeting in terms of our stances," he gestured between the two of them, "must have been quite the sight for the witches. I hardly suspect they were expecting me to be the restrained one and you to be the homocidal one."
Elijah chuckled and nodded, looking down though he was so unashamed. The two continued along the road behind the three witches without another word.
When they arrived at the Abattoir, the two brothers called upon Rebekah, Marcel, and Camille, bringing them all up to the room that Klaus and Bella were in. The two witches trailing behind, Kol disappeared and reappeared in a blur with the ingredients needed for both spells in hand. He lay them down in front of the witches, leaving and coming back with a bowl and a chalice in hand, the bowl large enough to encompass the entirety of the knot for the first spell with ease, and the chalice one designed for when Bella and Klaus were to drink the concoction created of their mixed blood.
He then came to stand beside Davina, on her left, with Elijah and Rebekah. Their eyes were on Klaus, who seemed to the outsider to be off in his own world and utterly inattentive of the surrounding beings but of course they knew better as he stroked his mate's hand back and forth, a small smile on his lips of excitement. The three were relieved to see such a drastic change in their brother, their own bodies thrumming with impatient exuberance at the thought that this emotional cloud hanging over them all would soon be no more.
An additional few minutes later and the witches separated to stand beside one another, Davina, as the most powerful, in the middle to create the balance needed. The three stepped forward and begun preparation for the first spell, lifting the sanguinum knot and then lowering it into the bowl that was filled with Bella's venom-laced blood. Once the knot was soaked, they laid it out as needed and each held their hands out at their hips, palms to the ceiling, as they begun to chant the incantation: "Phasmatos omnio ligor coldate sangorium...Phasmatos omnio ligata soluto...Phasmatos omnio ligata soluto vingulia cordit." The words fell from their lips as one and they chanted over and over, growing in force and power, until finally the knot levitated and untied itself to signify their success in reducing the venom in Bella's body.
The first stage was complete.
The Mikaelsons exchanged relieved smiles, their eyes on their brother as his eyes widened, his body leaning forward over his mate and a smile—a genuine, happy smile—on his lips. It was obvious to them that it had indeed worked. Niklaus could feel it.
It was quick work as Davina and the other witches prepared for the second spell. They mixed Bella's and Klaus's blood then held their hands out over the chalice, not shouting but raising their voices as they chanted, "Phasmatos Tribum, Melan Veras Raddiam, Onu Pavadus Ponemus" over and over again. Finally, with the spell done and the blood bound, they brought the chalice to Klaus first, who took half and swallowed it, the blood staining his lips as he lifted Bella's head with a gentleness no other had been touched with by him and he pressed the lip of the cup to her mouth. He fed her the blood at a slow pace, making sure she swallowed every drop and sighing as the last of the blood was drained from the cup. He set it down on the table and they waited with baited breath.
It was but a minute later when Bella's eyelids fluttered and Nik's eyes were filmed over with tears as those eyes opened and her cracked lips parted then twitched into a slow building but blinding smile, her own eyes matching his as they searched and fell upon him on instinct within seconds. "Nik," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion and from disuse, just as much as his was when he answered her in a sigh, taking her into his arms.
"Bella."
And they were broken no longer. The feeling that had encompassed Klaus's every particle drained, receding to nothingness as their lips met, hearts beating as one. When they parted, Klaus leaned back to gaze down at her, taking in her every feature like a blind man seeing the sun for a first time. Likewise, Bella gazed upon her mate with new eyes, the effects of her werewolf gene having strengthened the bond and a sob burst from her chest as she felt everything she'd ever felt around and for Klaus so much stronger than ever before.
She burrowed into his arms as the others left the room, leaving the two reunited mates to one another. The sorrow and pain and fear of the past three weeks, the brokenness the two had felt, was forgotten as they drowned in one another, feeling strong again.
The worst was over now and they could breathe again.
So how was that? I hope it was okay for you. I rather liked it, going back through it...
Again, please no hate for any mistakes you might find-I edited it myself instead of sending it because I wanted to get it to you ASAP.
Please let me know what you think in a review? Thanks...
I WILL see you next Monday. I will. I would start the next chapter now, but I'm really tired and really achy, so I don't think so. ;)
Until next week-PLEASE REVIEW
ncbexie25
