A/N: I did say it might happen again, lol.
Well, anyway. I'm alive! Just graduated last week-a bitch has got a degree!-and now I have to somehow become a real adult. . . don't like that. As ever, my stories are not abandoned, no matter how long we go between updates. Thank you all so much for your patience, for following/favoriting/reviewing/etc-it really means the world, especially when I'm struggling for motivation.
Please enjoy the chapter!
Sigrid really should have expected this.
The first thing Sigrid did when Elijah's fingers began to twitch was send a brief text to Niklaus and Rebekah informing them that Elena's party had officially held up their end of the deal, and that they would sadly need to stop torturing Stefan now, please and thank you.
The second thing she did was launch herself forward with a joyful, slightly tearful cry as her brother finally-finally-sat up in his coffin, looking remarkably clear-headed. Elijah, apparently working on autopilot, caught her with the ease of a thousand years of practice and ingrained elder brother instinct as Sigrid hurled herself into his chest, tucking her nose into his neck and breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.
"Sigrid," Elijah exhaled. "What has happened? Where are we?"
Sniffling a little, Sigrid pulled back and dashed away the few tears that had managed to escape her eyes. Taking a moment to gather herself, she cast about for the blood bag she had dislodged from her brother's chest when she lunged for him. "Well," Sigrid said, locating the bag by her left knee and passing it to Elijah, who tore into it with a bizarre mixture of fervor and impeccable manners. "Currently we're uh-" Hmm, how to phrase this? "We're in the basement of a house infested by dead witches, in the woods at the edge of Mystic Falls."
Elijah stared at her blankly.
"Kol and Finn are just there," Sigrid added, gesturing helpfully to the two open caskets behind Elijah. "They should be awake soon."
"And Rebekah?" Elijah asked, seemingly on instinct, still staring flatly-though he had turned to do so in the direction of their brothers, who were gradually losing the grey tinge to their skin and returning to a healthier color.
"Oh, she's awake already," Sigrid said blithely. She was practically high on happiness, and Elijah's blatant confusion-rare to behold-was doing nothing to diminish the feeling. In fact, it was adding a delightful element of humor. There was nothing quite like seeing her most unflappable sibling so utterly perplexed. "She's with Nik, back at the house. He undaggered her himself!" Well, the first time, anyway. "They're-" Terrorizing the locals? Torturing a mutual acquaintance? "-bonding."
Elijah took a moment to absorb this, idly devouring the rest of his blood bag. "I take it things didn't go quite to plan, then?"
At this, Sigrid sobered a bit. The guilt she had carried with her for months about her failure and Elijah's "plan" was not easily forgotten, even in her giddiness at the imminent reunion with her family. "Do they ever?" she joked weakly, sliding out of Elijah's lap and allowing him to clamber out of the casket.
(Clamber-ha! Sigrid was probably one of the only people in the world who could describe anything Elijah did as clambering. But even the world's most dignified vampire could be a little bumbling in comparison to Sigrid, who moved so lightly that she sometimes literally walked on air.)
"Sigrid. What happened?" Elijah asked solemnly, brushing himself off briskly.
Sigrid sighed and leaned back against the dirty basement wall. "Quite a bit," she replied somewhat lamely. "Most of which I'd prefer to only go over once," Sigrid said, nodding to their two comatose brothers. Elijah's brow furrowed, but he didn't object to waiting. She slumped a little, relieved.
Abruptly, Sigrid realized how very tired she was. She was still happy of course-thrilled, even-and she doubted that feeling would go away any time soon. But she'd been moving pretty much non stop for days (minus the time she'd spent dead after Mikael rammed his fist through her stomach, which-shockingly-hadn't been particularly restful) and she'd expended a lot of energy-more than she would have liked to, so soon after waking up post daggering. And now Sigrid would have to explain the past months' events to three confused brothers, two of whom had no exposure to the modern world and all three of whom were no doubt going to be incredibly angry with Niklaus whenever they next saw him, possibly to the point of homicidal rage-something Sigrid had just spent the last two days talking both Rebekah and Niklaus himself out of in regards to one another.
Groaning, she closed her eyes and tipped her head back, thunking it against the cool stone wall-only instead of hitting rough rock, her head met a familiar palm. Sigrid opened her eyes and met Elijah's matching dark brown gaze as he cupped the back of her skull protectively. "Are you alright?" he asked, and his voice had softened considerably from his previous question.
Sigrid just about melted, nuzzling into her brother's hand and reaching up to wrap her fingers around his wrist, as if to stop him from pulling him away. "I'm fine," she assured him, not sure whether or not she was lying. "Happy-beyond happy. It's just been. . . a rough couple of months. And an even rougher couple of days," Sigrid added. That much, at least, was true.
"I see," Elijah said, tone carefully neutral. Sigrid could practically hear the gears turning in his clever mind, wondering what draining series of events could have led to her uncharacteristically forthright words. While Sigrid did tend to wear her heart on her sleeve when it came to her louder emotions, she was self-aware enough to admit that she kept her personal problems close to her chest. She was free with her voice, her laughter and her tears-but her hurt? Her exhaustion or fear or pain (physical or otherwise)? Those Sigrid typically kept to herself, much to her family's frustration. That is, when they even noticed her deception. More often than not they were oblivious, though they must have known that Sigrid couldn't possibly have been as unburdened as she usually appeared. . .
The point is, Sigrid was sure that Elijah was surprised to hear her speak so candidly of how tired she was. It probably waved a pretty big red flag right in his face, confirming that what had gone down really was as bad as Sigrid made it sound. Of course, knowing Elijah, that would only make him more curious. Good thing he was patient.
"Niklaus knows you are here?" he asked suddenly.
"Huh?" Sigrid blurted, startled out of the light, contemplative daze she had fallen into. "Oh, yeah, he does," she confirmed once Elijah's question had sunk in. "And that I'm waking you guys up. He's fine with it." Well, fine might have been a stretch. Nik hadn't been outright opposed to Sigrid undaggering their brothers (he could no doubt see the strategic value in waking their remaining family, both so that they could serve as allies against the local population's vendetta, and so that they couldn't be used against him again in their defenseless state), but he hadn't been particularly enthusiastic about it either. Not, Sigrid knew, because he didn't want to see them. He did, especially now that Father was dead and gone and no longer a threat. Rather, because he still feared that he would be rejected and abandoned by the few people in the world who were meant to love him. A fear which was, though Sigrid hated to admit it, not entirely unfounded. And if their siblings tried to enact some sort of revenge plot so soon after Rebekah had betrayed him, Sigrid honestly wasn't sure how Nik would react. But it definitely wouldn't be good. Obviously.
Elijah looked thoughtful. "I see," he murmured again. "That is. . . good to hear." Clearly, he was perplexed. Unsurprising, given that the last time he had seen Nik their brother had been in full storybook-villain mode. Elijah didn't seem displeased, however, and Sigrid abruptly remembered the conversation they had had as they followed a newly transformed Niklaus through the woods all those months ago. Elijah had agreed back then to hold off on the kind of revenge that would really hurt Nik. . . and that was now more important than ever. Maybe she could get him on-side. . . ?
On the other side of the room, Kol's fingers began to twitch.
Okay, so, no time for hesitation! Blazing forward it was! Sigrid threw caution to the wind. "Elijah," she said intently, tightening her grip on his wrist sharply to get his attention, which had flickered to their brother. She kept one eye on Kol as she spoke, but poured most of her focus into ensuring Elijah's eyes remained on her. She shifted forward off the wall and grabbed his other hand for good measure. "Listen to me," Sigrid said seriously, a new kind of manic energy spreading through her body and washing away the fatigue. "I know you don't know what's going on yet, and I promise I'll explain soon. But please trust me when I say that I think we have the kind of opportunity here that we haven't had since New Orleans." That got his attention. Sigrid stifled a victorious smile. "Nik is in a very delicate place right now. If we play our cards right, I think we can all come to understand each other a little better, and even begin to make amends. If we can all just swallow our hurt and our pride for a little bit, we'll have a real chance at happiness and peace."
It was true. Nik had just forgiven Rebekah for what was possibly the most grievous sin anyone in their family had ever committed. He had also accepted Sigrid's anger towards him, and seemed to understand that it didn't mean she loved him any less, or that she wouldn't forgive him for hurting and upsetting her. This was a prime opportunity for him to work things out with the rest of their siblings as well. But on the other hand. . . Sigrid squeezed Elijah's hands harshly, knowing she hadn't a snowball's chance in hell at hurting him. "But if we muck this up somehow, I think he might fall past the point of no return," she said solemnly. Because if any of Nik's other siblings tried to conspire against him right now, so soon after Bekah's ultimate betrayal. . . "So please," Sigrid whispered. "Please help me stop them from doing anything rash. At least until I've explained everything, okay?"
There was a long pause while Elijah examined her. "What he has done to them-to all of us-cannot simply be overlooked," he pointed out.
Kol shifted again, and Sigrid grit her teeth, agitated. "I know," she said quickly, almost snapping. "I know, and it won't be, but there are other forms of reparations besides revenge, 'Lijah. Why don't we try one of those for once, huh?"
A moment of tense silence. . . and a great, relenting sigh. Sigrid sagged in relief. "Alright, sister," Elijah agreed. "We'll do things your way."
Sigrid jumped up to press a kiss to his cheek, floating in midair for a brief moment as she embraced him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried. "I really think we can make this work, Elijah!"
"I hope you're right," he smiled indulgently. "But for now, I do believe our first obstacle is about to appear." He nodded to the coffins, and Sigrid whipped around-how had she forgotten?!-just in time to see Kol gasp to life, a mildly crazed look in his eye.
Sigrid crossed to him in a heartbeat, but hovered off to the side for a moment as he tore into the blood bag she had left him with reckless, vicious abandon, smearing blood across his lips and chin. Kol struggled with controlling his bloodlust more than the rest of their siblings did, and it could be dangerous to get between him and his food-especially when he was so hungry. He settled a bit as the blood hit his stomach, but continued to pull in great, heaving breaths as he calmed down from his frenzy. After a minute or two of tense silence, Kol looked up, and Sigrid's eyes welled with tears as she saw him whole and hale for the first time in a hundred years. Sniffling, she reached into her pocket to retrieve a small handkerchief and pulled some water out of the air to wet it. "You always were a messy eater," Sigrid joked, voice wobbly, and held it out to him. She shook the cloth a little when he didn't respond. "Go on, take it alrea-"
Kol reached out and snagged her wrist, pulling her into his chest with a delighted, incredulous laugh. She fit neatly beneath his chin, just as she always had. "And you were always my favorite sibling," Kol said, utterly shameless, and Sigrid's vision blurred, the sound of his voice-so dear and familiar-enough to bring her to tears. She muffled a quiet, relieved, joyful sob in his neck, and the next time her brother spoke, his voice had softened considerably, smoothing out into the comforting, gentle croon he reserved almost exclusively for her. "Thank you, sólskin," Kol murmured into Sigrid's hair, pressing a brief kiss to her crown.
The sound of Kol's childhood nickname for her nearly sent Sigrid into another round of tears, but she sniffled them back resolutely.
("Well, why shouldn't I call you that?" her brother teased, dancing away from her as she grabbed for his tunic.
"It's embarrassing, Kol!" Sigrid whined. "You should call me something fierce instead, like skjaldmær!"
Kol laughed jubilantly. "Ha! You, a shieldmaiden? With that goofy grin? Oh, I'm sure your enemies will be terrified. No, sólskin suits you much better," he said, falsely sober. But his superior tone was ruined when he reached down to pluck a vivid yellow dandelion from the grass and tuck it behind Sigrid's ear. He admired it for a moment before smiling his secret soft smile, the one he saved just for Sigrid. "Sometimes you're so bright I can barely stand to look at you!" Kol said, and it sounded mostly like a joke, but a little bit like he might be serious too. "So, sunshine it is," he declared after a quiet moment, his sincere smile fading to be replaced by a more familiar, fox-like grin.
After a small, considering pause, Sigrid grinned back. She supposed any nickname that got her brother to smile like that-even for just a second-was alright in her book. Still. . . She eyed the bright, mischievous twinkle in Kol's eye, the sharp, vulpine pull of his lips. "Alright," she said slowly, in a voice that spelled trouble. "In that case, I think I'll call you-")
"Don't thank me yet, refadrengur," Sigrid said, the affectionate tease slipping out with nary a thought. Fox-boy indeed. Reluctantly, Sigrid pulled back from Kol's embrace and wiped her eyes. "It's. . . been kind of a long time."
Sigrid felt guilty for even thinking it, but part of her wished Kol had waited just a little longer to wake up.
Once he had gotten over his shock and happiness at his revival and seeing Sigrid, he had moved quickly into familiar territory-anger. He wanted to rush off and find Nik straight away. What his plan for that particular confrontation was, Sigrid didn't know, but she doubted it involved much more than planting a dagger in their brother's chest and possibly getting a few punches in-for cathartic purposes, if nothing else. And while Sigrid agreed that was probably well-deserved (Nik had left Kol in a box for almost a century, after all), it was also the antithesis of her "Work Things Out Peacefully as a Family for Once in Our God Damned Lives" master plan (it was a working title, subject to change). So Sigrid had no choice but to resort to drastic measures.
She sat on him.
Obviously Sigrid's minimal weight and resistance would be no true obstacle to Kol if he decided he really wanted to move, but her siblings were all very aware of how flimsy and breakable Sigrid was compared to them, and Kol was the most careful of her physical limitations out of all Sigrid's siblings. Despite his reputation as a wild, uncontrollably violent rogue, Kol alone amongst their family had never once lashed out at Sigrid physically. He would not do so now either, so clinging to him like a koala was honestly a rather low risk/high reward method of keeping him from storming off in a towering temper.
"Kol, I swear to all the gods-" Sigrid grunted, latching her arms around her brother at elbow-level and grabbing her own wrist behind his back, refusing to let go no matter how he twisted. Even though he wouldn't use his monstrous strength against her, Sigrid still knew all too well how slippery Kol was. He would seize on the slightest opportunity to safely evade her grasp. "Would you calm down?!"
"Certainly," Kol snarked dramatically, irritatingly unbothered by their ongoing low-level wrestling match. "Once I've taken Nik down a peg or two, that is."
Privately, Sigrid doubted whether anything Kol-or anyone else for that matter-could possibly do would actually take Nik down any pegs at all. This would certainly not be productive to mention, however, so she elected to keep that thought to herself. Instead, she repeated what she'd been trying to get through Kol's thick skull ever since he started getting pissy. "I told you, you don't know what's going on! You don't have all the details yet!"
"Give them to me then!" Kol snapped, giving a single irritable thrash and accidentally banging Sigrid's elbow against the edge of the casket they were still awkwardly perched within. It was barely a bump in the grand scheme of things, but she still yelped instinctively as her funny bone was knocked, and Kol froze instantly.
At this, Elijah had apparently had enough. "Control yourself, Kol," he interjected coolly, straightening from where he had been watching them while leaning up against the wall behind Kol's back. No doubt Kol had known he was there anyway, but Elijah had thus far avoided drawing attention to himself-merely observing with an unreadable look in his eye-and Kol, in turn, had been content to ignore him. But now. . .
Sigrid had just enough time to think, Oh no, Elijah, why, before Kol was out from under her, depositing her gently on her feet outside the coffin, and advancing on their older brother in a seamless, split-second's worth of movement that she could barely track. "Or what, brother," he sneered, face dark. "Going to put the dagger right back in, are you? Or are you just going to hold me down again so Nik can do it?"
Truthfully, Sigrid thought that was fair enough. Unfortunately, if there was to be any hope of keeping things relatively calm until Finn woke up and Sigrid could explain the situation properly, she would have to intervene, and soon. The distance between her brothers was rapidly narrowing, and Elijah's face had tightened in a harbinger of the kind of verbal smackdown that would send Kol reeling and leave him sulky and hurt for days-not that he would admit it.
In a single practiced motion, Sigrid slid between them, placing a hand on Kol's chest to stop him without looking and sending Elijah a quelling glare. She trusted that Kol would stop of his own accord once she placed herself in the mix. Elijah on the other hand. . . well, he might just go through with his verbal evisceration anyway. He got very huffy when he thought he was right, which was pretty much always-especially when it came to Kol.
It honestly infuriated Sigrid a little bit, because if it had been anyone other than Kol who had pointed out Elijah's own hypocritical willingness to dagger his siblings, he probably would have acknowledged the point and apologized. But Kol and Elijah got on about as well as oil and water. While Sigrid felt that Rebekah and Nik also didn't treat Kol as well as they should, she also knew that they did spend time with him sometimes, that they had things they could, and did, bond over with the youngest of their brothers-even if those activities were things like drinking too much and tormenting their enemies.
Finn, of course, had never liked Kol much, but he had never really liked any of them much. He loved them, Sigrid knew-though the others doubted it-but unlike the rest of them he had known their family even back before Freya's death and Father's descent into constant rage, and that, combined with his closeness with Mother, had somewhat hardened him towards the rest of them. He didn't know how to express his care, and had never gotten the chance to learn how-or, indeed, to grow into the kind of person who would really want to. He had spent so much of their time together struggling with what they had become, with his hatred for himself and for the rest of them, seeing what they had to do to survive and hating every second of it, struggling to reconcile it with the life they had lived before. . . And at the time it had seemed to everyone as if Kol had taken to vampirism like a duck to water-though Sigrid had realized soon enough that he was merely acting out of rage and grief at the loss of his magic. But still, his mischievous, sometimes mean-spirited antics had only heightened into bloody tricks and tantrums as a young vampire, and that had sown a seed of discord between him and their eldest brother, one that had never truly been there before.
So yeah, Finn didn't really like Kol. But he also never pretended to, never held his approval over Kol's head as if it were something he could possibly gain if he only jumped high enough, changed himself enough. Elijah on the other hand. . . well, it was hardly the moment to open that can of worms.
"Stop," Sigrid said sternly, though of course she was ignored.
Elijah sighed, put upon and condescending, and replied to Kol's accusation. "I hardly wish to do so, but you have proven time and time again, Kol, that little else can be done to quell your endless disruptions."
Sigrid sucked in a sharp breath, shocked-that was cold, even for Elijah-and Kol recoiled. "I see," he laughed harshly, covering up his wounded pieces with acidity, just as he always had. He stepped closer aggressively, crowding Sigrid up to Elijah's body, her arm still up and pressed against his own chest. "It's only acceptable to dagger your family when the noble Elijah wills it, then, is that it? Or is it just that it's only alright for your precious Rebekah and Niklaus to plot and scheme and hurt the rest of us?"
"No, enough!" Sigrid snapped, cutting off Elijah before he could reply and pushing her brothers apart with as much force as she could muster-backed by a bit of help from a sharp, sudden wind. She glared at Elijah. "Remember about fifteen minutes ago, when you promised you'd help me stop any fights from breaking out? Well, this isn't helping."
Elijah pursed his lips, but after a moment of stiff silence he relented, giving an acknowledging nod. "You're right of course. My apologies, sister."
"Oh, so you'll apologize to her," Kol sneered.
"Kol, please," Sigrid said desperately, turning to seek her youngest brother's umber eyes with her own. He softened infinitesimally when he looked at her, but still appeared angry, and beyond that, hurt. She lightly grasped his hands. "You have every right to be upset. I'm not telling you not to be. I'm asking you-both of you," Sigrid appealed, glancing back over her shoulder at Elijah, "-to please keep a lid on it until we're at least all on the same page." Neither of them looked particularly happy, and they didn't explicitly agree to her request, but nor did they look like they were about to jump down each other's throats anymore. Sigrid would take what she could get.
She released an explosive sigh. The burst of energy she had gotten when Kol woke seemed to go as quickly as it had come, and the desire to lie down outside in the dirt and grass and sunlight and maybe photosynthesize for a bit was suddenly nearly overwhelming. She missed Jörð and her immense, comforting presence terribly. Sigrid drifted over to the wall and allowed herself to slide down to sit on the stone floor, her back pressed to the cool cellar wall and her legs stretched out in front of her. She wriggled her toes, feeling tired and-if she was honest-a little disappointed. Maybe it had been naive of her to get so excited about waking her siblings. She didn't regret it-couldn't regret it, and never would-but still. Had it really been too much to hope that they might go a few moments without fighting? That they might take the opportunity to happily reunite and be honest about their feelings for once without her forcing them to? Elijah had been devastated when he thought Kol and the others were gone. And Kol felt hurt and betrayed more than he really felt angry. Why couldn't either of them just admit that?
Sigrid looked up to find her brothers facing opposite directions with their arms crossed stiffly. To the average observer-and possibly even to each other-Elijah would appear cool as a cucumber and Kol the textbook picture of petulant irritation, but Sigrid knew better. Elijah was uncomfortable, and falling back on stubbornness as a defensive measure. He'd be beating himself up for going back on his promise to help keep things calm, but refusing to acknowledge that the things he said might not have been fair. Kol on the other hand, while appearing stubborn outwardly, was probably already starting to give up on the idea that he might receive any sympathy or help from his siblings for his hurts. She sighed again, this time just the slightest exhalation of warm air, and prepared herself to speak up. While it was tempting to just let the conversation die out until Finn woke up and she could explain things properly. . . Sigrid couldn't leave them to stew like this. Not right now. Not when they should be full of the joy and relief and hope for the future that she herself had felt in those brief moments before she had blacked out after Nik killed Mikael, and again after Bonnie had handed over the location of the coffins. This was supposed to be a good day.
"Kol," she called softly. He turned to her, and while anyone else would probably have described his expression as. . . uninviting at best, all Sigrid could see was a pair of big, hurt puppy dog eyes hiding behind a carefully careless sneer. Gods, he and Nik had so much in common, honestly. "Please don't look at me like that," Sigrid pleaded, heart aching. "Look, nothing can make up for the time you all have lost-you and Finn especially. And I'm not saying you don't deserve reparations and apologies and maybe even to get a punch or two in. Just that we all need to be on the same page about everything before we can have that conversation-and it does need to be a conversation," she continued forcefully when it looked like Kol would object. "Otherwise this is just going to keep happening. You get that, right?"
Kol's lip twisted, landing somewhere between a snarl and a pout. "I suppose," he allowed grudgingly. "But I'm not just going to let this go, Sigrid," he warned. "I can't."
"I'm not asking you to," Sigrid assured him, standing and crossing towards him so quickly that her feet barely met the floor. "Hey," she insisted when he looked away. "I'm not asking you to." She looked up at him earnestly. "You deserve better than that," she said, willing him to understand that she meant it wholeheartedly. Granted, her idea of a reasonable apology on Nik's-and Elijah and Rebekah's-part was probably rather milder than Kol's, but she would never ask him to just accept the treatment he had received without protest.
Kol looked a bit embarrassed by her frank words, but he was also undeniably pleased, so Sigrid considered her work done on that front. She glanced over to Elijah and found him watching them with an odd look in his eye. She tilted her head questioningly and tried to keep her expression open and inviting. If he wanted to apologize, she certainly wasn't going to let her mild irritation with him get in the way. Elijah shifted slightly and opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say or do was forgotten in a moment when a quiet moan from across the room caught all their attention.
Finn's fingers twitched, and Sigrid was across the room with her bag full of blood bags in a fraction of a second. Unlike the others, Finn was too weak to move much on his own, so Sigrid cracked the seal on a bag of B positive and held it up to her eldest brother's cracked gray lips, crooning reassurances and meaningless, soothing nonsense as he drank desperately. When after three full bags Finn was still out of it and too cold and weak to sit up, Sigrid frowned. "This isn't working," she muttered, frustrated and resigned. "Plan B it is," she groaned. She looked back towards her fully functioning brothers and gestured them forward with a jerk of her head before turning her attention to rolling up one of her loose sleeves. "I'm going to have to give him some of mine," Sigrid explained.
Both Kol and Elijah seemed alarmed. "Are you sure that's wise, sister?" Elijah cautioned. "He hasn't fed in 900 years, and your blood is awfully tempting even at the best of times."
Kol snorted. "That's the polite way of saying poor Finn will probably descend on you like a pack of starving hyenas the second you open up a vein, sólskin."
"Well, that's what you two are here for," Sigrid said breezily. "Besides, what's the worst that could happen? He drains me? Not like it'll kill me. Well, not for good anyway." Elijah huffed disapprovingly, and Sigrid patted his arm absently. "Yeah, I hardly want that to happen either." She shot them a half teasing look. "So, best be ready to hold him down, lickety-split." She turned back to Finn. "He should only need a few mouthfuls to get him going. Let's give him. . . five seconds or so."
"Alright," Kol said skeptically, but obligingly leaned down to bite her wrist when Sigrid held it up to his mouth. Kol bit skillfully and almost painlessly, fangs sliding into her arm with just the slightest initial sting and withdrawing just as easily. He let go quickly enough, but licked his fangs thoroughly, visibly enjoying the taste.
As soon as the scent of her energy-saturated blood hit the air, Finn's eyes snapped open and he began to jerk towards her as best as he could in his weakened state, making desperate little snarling noises as his fangs dropped noisily and the veins around his eyes swelled and visibly throbbed. "Shhh shh shh," Sigrid soothed, bringing her bleeding arm down to his mouth and wincing when he latched on in a slightly different place than Kol had, pulling the torn skin painfully and piercing her arm nearly down to the bone. She hissed, gritting her teeth against the hot, stabbing pain as her brother did his level best to suck her dry without bothering to be gentle about it.
Still, the pain was worth it, as after just the first swallow of Sigrid's potent blood, color began rapidly returning to Finn's face, spreading down into his neck and arms just as quickly. Movement returned after the next pull of blood, and Finn sat up abruptly, jerking Sigrid's arm harshly. She cried out as a lance of sharp pain shot up her arm, but Finn wasn't done as he brought his own arms up in an attempt to latch onto Sigrid's and draw her impossibly closer to his fangs. Before he could seize her, however, Elijah grabbed one of his wrists and his jaw even as Kol grabbed the other wrist and placed a hand on Finn's shoulder, prepared to push him back down into the casket at a moment's notice. One final mouthful of blood saw a level of awareness returning to Finn's eyes as the last of the gray receded, and his fangs withdrew just enough to no longer scrape against Sigrid's bones, though he continued to drink. "Okay," Sigrid decided. "He's had enough."
Elijah squeezed Finn's jaw to make him release Sigrid's wrist, and as soon as she had safely extracted her arm from her eldest brother's teeth, Kol pushed him back down into the casket harshly to restrain the thrashing and snarling and desperate leaning that started up immediately as Finn tried to get Sigrid's blood back in his mouth. Elijah pulled her away quickly and handed her the handkerchief she'd used to clean Kol's face, which she wet again with water from the air even as she took a brief pull of blood from Elijah's own bleeding wrist when he pressed it to her mouth. The wounds in her arm sealed up instantly and she wiped the blood from her arm with the damp handkerchief before incinerating it.
Elijah sighed long-sufferingly at the loss of his accessory, and Sigrid shot him a sheepish smile but didn't apologize. They both knew it was better to get rid of all traces of her blood as quickly as possible. That was why her siblings tended to feed her their blood to help her heal more quickly than she did naturally. Though her accelerated healing rate would have seen the bite marks on her arm sealed up within hours, her blood was tempting, potent, and valuable enough that leaving it flowing-or even dried on a handkerchief-was best avoided whenever possible. Especially when there was a starving vampire in the room.
With her blood no longer lingering in the air, Finn began to regain control of himself quickly. "Kol, what-" he muttered indistinctly, drawing in heaving breaths and glancing around wide-eyed. Sigrid gasped at the sound of his voice and quashed the urge to burst into tears immediately, instead giving him a moment to fully come back to himself before rushing back over to grab his hand and meet the hazel eyes that she hadn't seen in over 900 years. "Sigrid," Finn breathed as soon as their eyes met, looking confused and relieved and scared and tired and a thousand other things all at once. He roved his eyes over her with a kind of tangible desperation and squeezed her hand almost harder than she could handle. She wouldn't have let go for anything. "What is hap-" Finn cut himself off abruptly, eyes fixed somewhere around Sigrid's waist. She glanced down, perplexed. "What the hell are you wearing?!" Finn cried, staring aghast at Sigrid's knee length dress and the stretch of bare leg beneath the hem.
Sigrid blinked, then snorted. She might have anticipated that, honestly. Behind her, Elijah chuckled lightly as well.
Kol snickered. "Well, I wasn't going to say anything myself, but you do look a bit whorish, sister."
Sigrid seized her hand back from Finn's clutches and used it to smack Kol upside the head as hard as she could.
"Ow!" he whined, though he belied it immediately by smirking even as he brought a hand up to rub at his skull.
"Oh please." Sigrid rolled her eyes. She rocked back on her heels, stepping back a bit so she could survey both her time-displaced brothers at the same time. She stuck her tongue out at Kol, but shot Finn a reassuring, if somewhat sad smile. "No need to worry for my reputation, boys. Times have changed quite a bit. This manner of dress is perfectly acceptable for women these days. Trousers too!"
Kol looked impressed. "Bekah must be pleased," he guessed. "She was always campaigning for women to wear trousers in New Orleans." Finn looked hopelessly overwhelmed.
Sigrid patted his arm comfortingly. "Don't worry about that just yet, Finn. How are you feeling?" she asked softly.
"Like I've been lying in a casket for an ungodly amount of time," he groused miserably, swinging his legs out of said casket and standing mostly under his own power. Sigrid's blood seemed to have finally made its way through his entire system, rousing him more thoroughly than the human blood had done. Still, he leaned against the coffin for support, raising a hand to rub at his forehead and the bridge of his nose. "How long has it been?" he asked after a moment, voice quiet and knowing. He kept his head down.
Sigrid glanced back at Elijah helplessly, biting her lip. Even Kol looked a bit awkward. "It's-it's been quite a while."
"How long, Sigrid?" Finn demanded, looking up. His tone brooked no argument. It was one she hadn't heard from him since she was a young girl, before they had turned. He had shut down so completely after becoming a vampire. . .
Sigrid swallowed. "Around 900 years," she whispered.
Finn's hand dropped from his face to his side, smacking into the side of the casket with a dull thud that he didn't seem to notice. "900 years," he repeated, almost to himself.
There was a long, awkward pause as he absorbed this and Sigrid and the others glanced between each other helplessly. Sigrid knew better than to expect either of her brothers to comfort their eldest. She was probably the most emotionally-intelligent of them, not to mention the only one who had ever put much effort into Finn-but even she was at a loss for what to do or say here. There was really only one thing she could offer. "Finn, I'm so sorry," Sigrid breathed.
He put his hand up to cut her off-not that she had anything more she could say. "What changed?" Finn asked bitterly. "Why wake me up now, when you were happy enough to leave me to rot all these years?"
"Not happy," Sigrid corrected sharply, stepping in close for a moment so she could look Finn dead in the eye. "Never happy." She waited until that seemed to sink in before turning away with a sigh, running a hand through her hair. "But you're right," Sigrid allowed after a moment, still facing away from her brothers. "Something did change. Just about the biggest something I can think of." She turned back towards them, and found all three of them watching her with rapt attention. Sigrid's lips turned upwards in a grimly satisfied smile. "Mikael is dead," she finally informed the last of her family. "Nik and I killed him ourselves. We're free."
A/N: I've read through this chapter a few times and I alternate between thinking it's disjointed as hell and thinking it's surprisingly coherent for having been written over the course of six months. Thanks again for your patience!
Coming up! The gang is back together for the first time in 900 years, and there are some unpleasant revelations and conversations in store. . .
Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!