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He ran through the forest, trying to feel the freedom he felt that night, the night he lost a part of himself. No, the night a part of himself was stolen. It's hard to believe that just over a century had passed since he and his siblings had turned into whatever it is they are.

Time seemed meaningless now, they still didn't have all the answers as to what their mother turned them into, but they knew enough.

They burned in the sun without their rings, they burned when holding vervain plant, they were able to hypnotize people, they were stronger, faster and sharper, they didn't age, and they needed blood.

Blood

It had been euphoric the first time he tried it, he had been so consumed by it that he killed an entire village, along with his family. He wasn't the same person he had been as a human, that was for sure.

He had grown harsher and colder during these past centuries. Several factors contributed to this, being robbed of his humanity, finding out he was a bastard, his mother cursing at him, Tatia dying, Aurora's rejection, the hunter's curse. All these things had made him vengeful.

His brother Elijah thought he was going mad, but Niklaus saw it as inevitable change. He didn't hate the person he had become. He was no longer the weak pathetic human that Mikael had abused, he was the one inflicting fear.

He felt stronger and for the first time, he felt like his true self, almost. "You're getting lost in the darkness, Niklaus. All this killing and torturing without necessity, soon you will be a monster that no one will recognize," Elijah had said.

Niklaus scoffed in his face, 'hypocrite' he thought. Who was Elijah to judge him? His older brother was perhaps the worst of them all, acting as if he had some moral high ground. They all had killed, Elijah, Kol, Rebekah, even Finn. What made them better than him?

He snapped out of his thoughts when he smelled something familiar, the same euphoric feeling he was thinking of earlier.

Blood.

He heard a shallow breathing, a slow heartbeat, and eventually, he came across a girl. She had golden locks, ivory skin, that was all he could see as he could only watch her profile.

She leaned against a try and blood seemed to be coming out of her stomach. It was clear that she was dying and he found himself at a loss. Should he kill her? Should he wait for her to die and then drink her blood?

Not being able to hold herself up, the girl slid down and sat against the tree, covering the hole in her stomach that was presumptuously pumping out the blood. She still hadn't seen him and he wasn't sure if he wanted to make himself be seen. He felt pity for the girl.

Pity, that is something he hadn't felt in a thousand years. He suddenly had the urge to see her face, or more accurately her eyes. Where they the eyes of a fighter or a victim?

He approached her and leaned down, grasping her chin and turning her head to face him, which caused her to open her eyes.

"Es-tu un ange?" she asked. The girl is French, which made sense since they were in Clermont, she was probably religious too. He didn't care much for other beliefs that weren't his Nordic ones, it was perhaps the most human thing about him.

"Quel est ton nom?" he asked.

"Caroline d'Frobes," she answered.

Oh, he was definitely familiar with that name. Her father was William d'Frobes, a Lord of France and a cruel man he had heard.

"Qui vous a fait cela?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

"Mon papa," she whispered.

He wasn't sure what came over, but in an act of impulse, he bit into his wrist and placed it on her mouth. He heard her slight protest but ignored it, and when he saw the wound on her stomach close he compelled her to sleep and took her to his manor.

For the first time in over a century, Niklaus Mikalson showed kindness.

It had been a week since he brought her into his home, and she hadn't said much. Not that he asked, or even made an effort to socialize with her. A simple good morrow and goodnight were enough for them, but he would draw her. Constantly.

He didn't understand it but at night he would get this itch in his hand; then he would grab a pencil, put it on paper and start moving his hand. When he was done with the sketch it would always end up being her. He didn't understand it, there wasn't anything exceptional about the girl.

He had seen his fair share of maidens from all around the world and this girl, while beautiful, didn't particularly stand out from the multitude of women he had seen.

His thoughts were interrupted with a soft knock on the door.

"Lord Mikaelson," she said in a soft voice.

"Good evening," he smiled, but then corrected himself, "Bonsoir."

She laughed lightly, "It's alright, my lord. My mother was an English Lady, I know the language quite well."

"Good," he chuckled, "I've not spent much time in France, so my french is a bit rusty." And it was true. Since Aurora's betrayal he had made it his mission to avoid any part of France like the plague, he only came here because Kol begged him. But of course, his little brother left only a week after Niklaus arrived.

"What is it you need, Lady d'Frobes?"

"I noticed you have a library in the manor, I've always loved to read and was wondering if I could explore thy books?"

"I don't see why not?" he said.

She gave him a beautiful smile and he felt himself out of breath, perhaps she wasn't so ordinary after all.

"Thank you Lord Mikaelson," she bowed, "You have been most kind."

"Lady d'Frobes, please, call me Niklaus," he insisted.

"Well then you must call me Caroline," she said.

"Very well," he chuckled, "Shall I take you to the library?" he offered.

"That is most kind, thank you, my Lord… I mean Niklaus."

Over the next two weeks, their relationship had changed dramatically, yet somehow it still managed to stay the same. They still didn't talk to each other much apart from the formalities, but every day from late evening to early night time like clockwork they would sit in the library across from each other and read. No words were exchanged, just plain silence and the occasional glance.

That is until one day she broke that ritual.

"I know what you are," she said while still staring at her book.

Niklaus smirked and like her, didn't look up from his, "Do you?"

"I saw you feeding two days ago," she revealed, putting her book down on her lap.

He leaned back in his chair and put his right ankle over his left thigh, "And yet you do not run?"

"If you wanted to hurt me then you would have already," she stated.

He chuckled, "Tell me how old are you, Caroline?"

"Ten-of-seven, almost eight."

"Methinks you are far too young to understand," he said, returning to his book.

"Who are you to make that decision," she scoffed.

He laughed at the silly human, "I am the one you should fear," he said with a psychotic smile, "I am the one who puts the devil, or Hel, Hades, whatever evil you believe into shame."

"Believe me, however bad you think you are, I have faced greater evil."

"You say you know what I am," Klaus said, "Tell me."

"You are a creature of the night. You walk among us, pretending to be normal, but you are not," she looked down at her lap "You feed on blood and transform your face into its true monstrous form at night."

"That's quite the description you have," Klaus questioned, "Why are you not afraid of me if you know what I am so well?"

"You saved me," she laughed, "Why would I be afraid of you?"

He leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, "I killed my mother, afraid yet?" he asked.

"I killed my father," she said, mimicking his current posture, "Are you afraid?"

"Was it self-defense?" he asked.

"I like to think it was, however, I have been wanting to kill him since I was ten-of-one," she stated bluntly, "He was a cruel and vicious man who cared for no one but himself. Does it make me an evil person to be happy about his death? To be grateful that I was the one to kill him?" she asked.

"Considering he stabbed you in the stomach, I think not," he said, trying to keep his face stoic.

"How did you become this creature?" she asked, trying to change the subject.

"If you don't want to keep talking about your life all you had to do was say so, no need to manipulate me into changing the subject," he smirked, seeing right through her.

She rolled her eyes, "Very well, I do not wish to keep talking about my life. Tell me about you."

He laughed lightly, "Well I grew up with five siblings and similar to you, an abusive father. There used to be men that turned to wolves in my village, and one night I felt drawn to see them. So, I snuck out of the caves we would hide and went towards the wolves. I didn't know my youngest brother, Henrik, had followed me. I heard a scream and ran towards it, only to find him devoured by the wolves.

She didn't know what to say, a simple 'I'm sorry for your loss' didn't seem like the right thing, so she just stayed quiet. Something he rather appreciated.

"I carried him back to the village," he said, a strained facial expression showing, "My family blamed me, my father was too devastated to give me a beating. We had all fallen apart. About two fortnights after Henrik's passing my family and I had a feast, little did we know the wine we drank had been spelled by my mother, a powerful witch. We drank it all and while sleeping my father stormed into our hut and killed us. All of us. He stabbed us with a sword as if we were nothing."

He stood from the chair and walked to the fireplace, above it was a painting, which he took down and revealed a sword behind it. He held it at both ends and glared at it. "I hid it before we escaped the village, and went back a few decades ago to retrieve it."

She tried to contain her shock when he said decades, how old was this guy?"

"We lasted a fortnight living peacefully as these new creatures. But eventually, the bloodlust overpowered us, and we killed the whole village. Tell me, Caroline, had you heard of the men that turned to wolves before I told you about them?"

She shook her head.

"Well, sweetheart. It is a curse to be a man that turns into a wolf. It takes hours of agonizing pain, but what you need to understand about this is that it passes through blood, and it can only be activated when you kill a human," he explained, "The night we massacred the village, the night I made my first kill, I activated the curse."

"Did any of your siblings activate the curse?" she asked, but he didn't have to answer, she already knew what he would say, "You're a bastard," she realized, and saw as his jaw tightened.

"My mother had an affair with one of the wolves," he confirmed her theory, "My father, Mikael, was livid. He killed all the wolves within the neighboring villages. My mother wanted him to forgive her, to correct her mistake. So, she cursed me, locking my werewolf side on a rock."

"How long ago was this?" she couldn't resist asking.

He grinned before saying, "Almost 200 years ago."

"Where is everyone now? You're siblings, Mikael, you're mother. You said you killed her, was it because you thought it would break the curse?"

"That and revenge. My siblings and I escaped, I told them Mikael had killed her which gave them more incentive. And Mikael, well he has been chasing us for the past two centuries."

"So your family was the first of your kind?" she asked, and he nodded. "Would you ever turn me?"

"You want to be a monster?" he asked, incredulously.

"I want to be strong, ageless, fearless. If it means becoming a monster then so be it," she said, defiantly.

"I don't think that's the best idea, you're too you might regret it."

She frowned, "With all due respect, Niklaus, I believe I can make that decision for myself. I don't want to turn yet, I would like to live some more time as a human, but someday, perhaps you could do it."

"Someday," he mumbled.

She yawned and stood up, ready to excuse herself. "Good night Niklaus, thank you for a lovely talk." she bowed.

He stood up before her and circled in a predatory manner. He stood behind and leaned towards her, his breath hot against her ear. He leaned down and place a kiss right on her pulse. "Good night Lady d'Frobes," he whispered against her ear, his lips lightly brushing it. She quickly left the room and he couldn't help but chuckle.

He certainly was wrong, this little human was unlike any other he had ever met.

He serves himself a glass of whiskey and slowly walked towards the fire, staring and smirking at it. He had a feeling that they would have a lot of fun together in the centuries to come, and she would most definitely make the most exquisite vampire.

'Let the games begin, sweetheart.'

Translations:

Es-tu un ange? - Are you an angel?

Quel est ton nom? - What's your name?

Qui vous a fait cela? - Who did this to you?

Mon papa - My dad.