A/N: Before you read this chapter let me preface it with reminding readers of the warning I gave chapter 2. I never promised to deliver "lost puppy dog" Klaus. I did however say that he will love the Carolines, or parts of them at least. However, remember, the man has issues. Even from TVD you can see he's still a little sensitive about the Tatia issue, 1000 + years later.
This chapter will be rough. However, I promise there will be squee and sweet moments in the future. Remember this is all a building of history and Rome was not built in a day so neither can the Klaroline ship be ( in this story).
I will post a Family Tree next chapter, most likely as a link to follow.
I own nothing.
Love you guys, you are all too sweet.
I hate editing, so sorry for any errors.
I was naive. Your love was like candy
Artificially sweet, I was deceived by the wrapping
Got caught in your web, and I learned how to bleed
I was prey in your bed and devoured completely
X
I should have known, I was used for amusement
Couldn't see through the smoke, it was all an illusion
Now I've been licking my wounds
But the venom seeps deeper
We both can seduce, but darling you hold me prisoner
~ Walk Away, Christina Aguilera
The first time Niklaus Mikaelson kissed her, it was a surprise. They were wandering around the markets of Venice, passing through tattered carts, odds smells and colorful fabrics. Alexander and Rebekah were yards in front of them, unashamed with their affection in public.
Hannah was picking through a cart of pears, when he asked, "Have you ever been kissed?"
It was a strange question, but some of the most unusual things would come from his mouth at times. Endless questions about the hunters, Levada, the witch that had spelled them, and the werewolves.
Had it been the first strange thing he'd ever asked, she might have thought on it. But since it was only one of the dozen of unusual questions he'd levied at her that morning alone, Hannah thought nothing of it.
"No," she laughed. "Although when we were kids, Isa did once, after I'd fallen. But I hardly think that counts," she rattled on, digging through the pears. "I was five and he was eight. I would guess it to have been more of an effort to get me to stop crying."
"Hannah?"
"Hm?"
Finding the right one, she stopped the hunt, looking up, "Yes, Niklaus?" He was much closer than she remembered, when he'd asked the question. Inches from her face, he looked down at her, smiling a little, before he leaned in and kissed her.
It was soft, simple and brief, but had the desired effect. Dropping the pear, it rolled on the ground, bruising in the process.
"Are you going to pay for that?" The vendor barked looking annoyed and unimpressed as Hannah dropped to the ground, scrambling after the fruit. Finding it, she popped up, blushing, "I'm so sorry, how much?"
The first time Hannah thought she loved Niklaus Mikaelson was two weeks later. The family had come to the old home, off the canal, where they were staying. Showing up unexpectedly they caught the hunters in the middle of training and Niklaus caught Hannah on her hands and knees cleaning old stone floors.
Outside, looking up at the shabby windows, and dirty brick, unimpressed, Rebekah commented, "This is it?"
"Play nice, Rebekah," Elijah encouraged as they approached the door.
Of all the places she'd imagined Alexander living, this house was not one of them.
"The house, is it yours?" she questioned when they were led inside.
"No, it's a diplomat's. They considered tearing it down. But when he heard of our work, that we needed a place to stay temporarily, he offered it to us."
"Oh, it's lovely," she lied.
"How much longer until you leave us?"
Looking to Rebekah, he commented, "Not until after Midsummer. There are some supplies we need to collect that will not be available until then."
"And to what do we owe the honor of your visit?" Isa interjected, almost rudely.
Taking point, Elijah answered, "We've come in from the country to collect some items. You'll have to forgive us, but we wished to offer you all an invitation in person, to come to our home before Midsummer. You've all been so kind, letting us be a part of your lives. We hoped to offer you the same, before your long journey."
"How generous of you," Alexander replied, taking Rebekah's hand. But Isa seemed unconvinced, looking at the three strangely. It was one of the many lies he'd sensed from the mouths of the Mikaelsons, who were so eager to make their acquaintance.
Later, he'd tell Alexander of it and his old friend would tell him that he was paranoid, nearing a full moon, that his senses couldn't be trusted. Isa knew better.
"And where is Hannah?" Niklaus questioned.
Isa was ready to say, "Out", when Alexander cut in, "Somewhere, in the house. You're free to find her."
As he left, Isa watched him closely. The only thing he disliked more than the Mikaelsons questions about their plans, was the ardent attention Niklaus paid to Hannah.
The search took less than minutes, hearing the brush roughly scrape against the uneven floors. She was a sad sight, her clothing covered in murky water, her face spotted with dirt, finger nails black.
"I don't mean to interrupt."
Black curls lay plastered against her forehead, as she brushed hair from her eyes and to her horror found Niklaus looking down at her.
Fumbling to rise on soapy floors, she answered, "I didn't know you were coming."
"Neither did we. It was by chance."
Embarrassed she attempted to wipe her hands on her skirt, straighten her appearance.
"Do you always scrub floors in the middle of the day, when I'm not with you?"
"When they need to be."
"Why not leave them? This isn't your home."
"It fills the time."
"With house chores? Is there not something else you can do?"
When she didn't answer, clearly unnerved and uncomfortable, he knew he'd said something wrong. It seemed charm wasn't as easy as it used to be. He hadn't had to use it, for too long.
Instead he tried, "Do you not ever want for more? You could have more, Hannah."
It was stupid. It was only a question, an assertion, to fill up the silence. But no one had ever asked her that before.
"Come," he offered her, his hand, "Leave that and go get cleaned up."
It had meant nothing to him. It was one of the many things he'd say to her, that he'd never think twice about. But Niklaus' question would bother her for days, leaving her awake at night thinking about it.
Foolishly, she would fall in love with him, for many reasons, one being she thought he saw something in her. And he did, just not what Hannah wanted.
It was a week later, when they left Venice for the country, visiting as they promised, that Hannah made her most fatal mistake: believing Niklaus to love her.
"Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"It enhances the experience."
She laughed, it was loud and not intended to be charming. Birds stirred in the surrounding trees disturbed by the noise.
"No," she answered bluntly.
"Do you not trust me?"
Before she could answer, he leaned in staring at her strangely, as he often would, "You should trust me," the same nagging pull coming from him.
Ignoring it, she relented, "Okay."
Taking her hand, they waded into the steam, the water icy cold and the rocks slippery. Clinging to him so she wouldn't fall, she chattered, "Won't Alexander and Rebekah wonder where we've gone?"
"No, we won't be far," he answered leading her past water that ran clear to red, a dead animal with its throat torn out sprawled across a rock.
"Why must I close my eyes?"
So she'd follow him into the cave, having not seen the trail of dead animals, part wolf, part human, leading to its entrance.
"Think of it as an exercise in trust."
When her feet hit dirt, the air around them had turned musty, the temperature dropping 15 degrees.
"Are we there yet?"
"Just a little closer." By the time he's stopped in front of a partially lit wall in the shallows of the cave, the sun was starting to set.
"You can open your eyes now."
Obliging, she looked up at the hashed scratch marks, dug into the wall and then to Niklaus.
"Have you seen marking like these before, in your village?"
She should have known…. more questions.
"I don't know," moving closer she touched the rough symbols, "Maybe a few but not like the ones up there."
"Good."
"Why?"
"No reason, we'd just discovered these a while ago. You said you had werewolves in your village. I thought this cave may have been marked by a pack of them."
Looking around, Hannah cowered a little closer.
"Go ahead, close your eyes and we can go back."
"No."
"No, what?"
"I do not want to close my eyes." She didn't know why but something about this place didn't feel right. There was a sadness here. In truth she was afraid of being left.
"Why?"
Looking around, she bit down on her lower lip, "I... I just don't."
"I'm not going to leave you." It was out of context, but somehow he knew exactly what she'd feared most.
When she didn't answer, almost as a reassurance, he leaned in and kissed her. In the two months that they had spent together, from that first kiss, he'd become much more bold in his affections. Lately, he'd become demanding, lacking a certain gentleness he'd had before. At times it both scared and excited her.
"I'll never leave you, Pet, I swear." Four words that no one had ever said to her before, a promise, to a girl that felt she'd spent her whole life tagging behind someone who'd rather not have her there.
It was stupid, naive and a lie on Niklaus' part, but she believed it. Caught up in the moment, truthfully hungry, he bit her lip as he kissed her, drawing a small amount of blood. When she failed to pull back, his appetite flared, blood dripping into his mouth. Hastily he pressed her back against the damp wall. Sucking the warm liquid from her lip until the cut clotted. Hands grouped at hem of her dress, pulling it up past her knees, his lips slipping down her neck.
Scared, he could feel the blood pumping faster through her veins, driving him to distraction.
"Niklaus?" she panted, her hands pressing against his shoulders, trying to slow him.
"Yes?" He murmured, tugging at the laces at the front of her dress.
"Do you love me?" She'd said it innocently enough that it caused him to stop, ruining the moment. Moments before he'd considered feeding on her, then compelling her to forget, but now he'd suddenly lost his appetite.
Like a child, she stared down at him, her face a mixture of anticipation and hope. He could have been honest and told her no, then quickly erased her memory of it. But it was just another lie, right? What could it hurt?
"Yes." The answer was apparently what she sought, he smirked to himself as she smiled in return, dropping her hands from his shoulders, allowing him closer.
And closer to her, he would have got; close enough to sink his fangs into some unnoticeable area, satiating his hunger. But voices in the distance stopped him.
Alexander and Rebekah: her brother calling for her, wondering where she'd gone. Dropping Hannah's skirts, he forced a pained smile, yelling back, "We are coming!" before turning back to Hannah, "Close your eyes, Pet."
Dragging her back over the rocks, she struggled to keep up, thinking it to be her own clumsiness, drunk on the idea of love. Holding tight, she gladly kept her eyes closed, imagining a future with Niklaus, again missing the graveyard of wolves, slaughtered and left by the family that would host them that evening.
When Alexander and Rebekah announced their engagement, the room was met with loud congratulations and wishes of good will. Toasting their glasses, everyone drank except for Isa. It was subtle but he could smell it from the moment he'd walked into their home.
Wolfsbane.
It was somewhere in the house. They'd put it something, which only made him wonder that much more about what these people's intentions were. Did they know of him? How could they have known?
But the Mikaelsons had, had their suspicions of Isa for weeks. Alarmed by the way he looked them, with vehement disgust, beyond just Niklaus. They were convinced further, after he easily seemed to ferret out some of even their most innocent lies.
The hunters were problematic enough, but a werewolf in their midst, one they couldn't easily attack for fear of discovery, was a dilemma.
Isa had tried fervently, too many times to count, to explain to Alexander that there was something wrong with Rebekah and her brothers. Coming to their home only heightened his senses. It was days past the last full moon, but if he didn't know better he could have sworn there were wolves nearby. The smell of them faint, mixed with Wolfsbane, water and despair.
But Alexander was blind to anything he had to say. He was in love. So patiently, Isa had to wait, only days more, until they could leave forever. Hopefully leaving Rebekah and her family behind, wed or not.
Subtly bringing the liquid to his lips, he didn't consume it, the smell of the poison so heavy in the liquor that it was nauseating. While everyone feasted, celebrating the couple, he watched, leery of their company.
They were lying. The entire family was most certainly lying, about what he didn't know. But he'd be sure to find out.
Niklaus led her back to his room, away from the guest. Drunk and celebrating none of the men noticed, none were aware she was gone, except for Isa, who watched Niklaus whisper in her ear, drawing her away from everyone, isolating her as he had been for close to a month.
Listening to the door close, Hannah shivered feeling him behind her, closing in.
"Breathe, dear," his hands settled on her waist, waiting for moments before fingers tugged at the laces of her dress.
Her heart felt like it was pounding out of her chest. Niklaus's every movement agonizing. Did she want to do this? She didn't know.
His hands were cold as they slipped the material from her shoulders, down her hips onto the floor.
"This is your first?" He breathed against her neck. Hannah found herself leaning into it for comfort, reassurance. But Niklaus didn't encourage further and she never answered.
It was a rhetorical question. Of course he would be her first, her naivety so palpable he could drink it in… and intended to.
"Lay down," he instructed, abruptly.
Startled, she hesitated for moment before obeying, slowly creeping towards the four poster bed. Not bothering for ceremony, foreplay or even sensitivity he stripped, ordering, "Spread your legs."
It came out harsher than he intended. She was clearly terrified, her skin flushing pink with embarrassment, making his mouth water all that much more with the sight of blood pooling to the surface.
Doubt shadowed her face, a crease forming between her brows. She had no notion of what to expect, having never even kissed a man before Niklaus. Maybe all men were this way. Maybe this was the way he was supposed to act. She'd never had a mother to ask these questions. Only Alexander and she'd rather die than broach that topic with him.
When she shifted uncomfortably, covering herself, looking almost as if she would cry at any moment, Niklaus stopped. He couldn't handle tears. Not now.
Forcing himself to be pleasant, charming, he tried again, "Do you not want to make me happy, Pet?"
A hundred and twenty years, there had been too many women to count that he'd fucked, fed on, or both. They ran together in an indistinguishable blur. They were all the same, shaking and scared waiting with anticipation, hoping desperately to be loved, willing to do anything he'd ask.
To Hannah's credit she didn't nod like a fool, as so many girls would. Instead, she paused for a moment, as if she were considering her options.
Had he not been hungry, horny and rapidly waning in both patience and chivalrous bravado, he would have laughed. Naked, on his bed, she sat with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around them, forehead wrinkled as if she were trying to sum an equation.
Had she said no, she'd have been the first. Wouldn't that have been an interesting turn of events?
What could she possibly be pondering? he wondered. Niklaus hadn't forced her there. She hadn't stopped him from stripping her. Now all of sudden she was weighing her options? Standing awkwardly in front of her, he was biting back a snide comment about viewing the show (him) without paying the fee, when she finally ceded. Unfolding her arms, she laid back slowly, spreading her knees in submission.
Not giving her time to reconsider, he crawled on top of her, only to be met with Hannah bracing herself on her elbows, not quite willing to be overpowered because something about it felt very wrong.
Locking eyes, she could feel herself being pulled in by him, strangely, as he had tried before. "You won't remember the details. You will enjoy it and you will not make a noise when I bite you. You'll welcome it."
Bite her?! She wanted to scream out, "NO!" But before she could respond, he was pushing her back into the pillows.
What did he mean bite her?
"Close your eyes, sometimes it helps," he murmured.
Obeying, she stifled herself from crying out as he entered her: feeling as if she would snap in half. But soon those thoughts were lost as his teeth pierced the skin of her shoulder, liquid dripping down her back.
The rest of the evening was a blur as the room went hazy and then finally black. He was right. It was the first time a man had ever touched her like that and she'd hardly remember a thing, fainting moments after it began from loss of blood.
Light streamed across Hannah's face, waking her from a heavy sleep. Confused, she stared at a stack of books on the table beside the bed, an overcoat tossed casually over a chair. Where was she?
Niklaus.
It came back to her rapidly in brief flashes: the engagement, the celebratory dinner. His breath hot on her neck, hands yanking at the laces of her dress.
The last thing she remembered was a sharp piercing sensation between her thighs, paired with a different one against her shoulder.
Her fingers traced over the column of her neck and stopped when they found a break in the skin, surrounded by what she assumed to be bruises.
She could hear him, clear as if he were saying it again, "When I bite you..." He'd fed from her!
The way he'd spoken to her, so many times before. As if everything he'd say was a command to be followed not a request and their interest: in the hunters, werewolves, obsession with the maps and cure.
She couldn't think it. She wouldn't even let the world rattle through her mind, because the mere thought was enough to send her into a panic.
Trembling, she cautiously reached behind, thankfully finding the sheets untouched, still tucked beneath the feathered mattress on the other side.
She was alone.
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind at once, all of them screaming some form of, "RUN!"
But she couldn't. Where would she run to? She was in his home, they were surrounded, her, Alexander, Isa, all of them. Shivering at the thought, she tried to calm herself.
"Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death. Amen," she prayed, her hand clutching her markings.
How could they all have been so blind? She had to get to Isa, Alexander. She had to tell them before it was too late. In a moment of pure self pity she considered crying.
What a stupid girl she was, believing him to love her. She'd been foolish enough to answer everything he'd asked, trusting him completely, and allowing him to touch her.
Her skin crawled with the thought. He'd fed on her as if she were disposable, something to be eaten, then tossed aside when satiated. He could have killed her. Easily he could have drained and left her all those times they were alone.
"You're awake."
Fear shot through her, icy, cold and bitter.
"You slept most the morning."
With great care, to not shake, she pulled herself to sitting, taking the sheets with her, covering herself as much as possible.
"The others, your brother, Isa," he paused, "were asking after you."
When she didn't respond, he continued.
"I told them you were detained."
Trapped was more like it. Unsure what to do, she held completely still, as if somehow, if she tried really hard, she could disappear.
"They left earlier, something about visiting the apothecary for supplies."
No! She wanted to scream. It was at least a day's journey into Venice from here. Possibly more if the weather didn't permit.
"They considered waking you, to take you along, but I assured them that would not be necessary. And that we would be more than happy to entertain you in their absence."
It was Isa that demanded they take her, refusing to leave her behind. But when Alexander pushed him to leave, practically dragging him from the house, reminding him that Midsummer was drawing near, that soon enough they'd be leaving for good, he'd been forced to drop it.
How could Alexander have just left her? Was he satisfied now that he'd found some man to push her off on, to rid himself of his little sister, the burden?
No. She couldn't think like that. Those types of thoughts made her desperate, giving her a throbbing impulse to jump out of this bed and run as fast as she could- ideas that would get her killed.
They'd come back for her. Alexander had Rebekah, whom he'd promised to wed. And Isa, surely he'd not leave her. They'd been raised practically as brother and sister. Would he forget her so easily?
"Why would they be going to the apothecary, Hannah?"
"I don't know."
Something about the way she was looking at him didn't seem right. He'd expected to find her shy, maybe even slightly nervous, but not terrified which is how she looked now.
He could hear her heart racing, fast enough that he couldn't make out distinct beats, just a consistent humming.
"You must wish to clothe yourself?" Nodding at a dress flung over the back of a chair he continued, "It's Rebekah's. She'll recover."
When she didn't move, he exasperatedly picked it up, tossing it on the bed.
"I said, get dressed." This time his tone was considerably less considerate and more demanding. Knowing she had no other option but to submit, she slowly dropped the sheet, crawling forward to retrieve the offering.
"Stop."
Her skin flushed pink with embarrassment, feeling his eyes on her.
"What is that?"
Quickly grabbing the dress she pulled it over her chest, burrowing back into the pillows, his eyes needling into her.
"What?" She asked innocently.
Crossing the room, he tugged on the sheet, causing it to slip from her legs. Brushing aside the material of the dress, he gently touched her hip, rotating it to get a better look.
The print was small, but the carvings precise, as though whomever had done them had taken great care in their execution.
"La via, la vertia, la luce," he read. Running his finger over the ink, a hiss reverberated throughout the room as his skin sizzled for moments, turning red, to pink, then back to white.
With her head turned, she prayed uselessly that Alexander would return, right that moment.
"Hannah…" reaching over, his fingers were like ice, directing her attention back to his stare, as he tried to compel her, "Dear, what is this?" The endearment may have been sweet but the tone was not.
"I got them as a child," she partially lied.
"Who gave them to you?"
Swallowing, she answered, "A witch from the village."
"What are they used for?"
To protect the women of her family from being compelled, by predators like him.
"To distinguish us from the wolves," she lied.
Unconvinced, he brought his nail next to the ink once more, observing the same potent heat. "Why did it burn me?"
"I don't know," she answered, as convincingly as she could hope.
Moments passed, as he watched her, looking for signs of withholding, before he reached behind the stack of books on the bed side table, retrieving a small knife. Sharp, it could easily sever through a few layers of skin and muscle.
"Cut yourself." As the worlds rolled off his tongue she could feel a familiar faint pull from his insistence. He was attempting to compel her.
It was a test. If she failed he'd surely kill her, knowing that she'd been of right mind the entire time. That she couldn't be trusted because she couldn't be controlled.
Without hesitation Hannah reached for the blade, taking from him. Slowly she drew it down to the center of her thigh and pressed the fine edge through the first thin layers of skin.
Seconds passed as the blade steadily moved further, blood pouring from the cut, dribbling down her leg, blotting into the sheets. In agonizing pain, she bit down on her tongue until it bled, stopping herself from crying out, holding completely still.
If he didn't believe her soon, if he didn't stop it, she'd surely pass out from the pain.
"Enough."
No. It wasn't enough. He wanted to test her? She'd play his game. Proving her point, as her own silent challenge, Hannah pressed down a little harder, slicing through the first layers of muscle, until he finally snatched the knife back.
"I said enough."
Blood gushed from her leg, pooling around her thigh, soaking into the mattress. Drawing the sheet up, Niklaus held it to the wound, attempting to stop the rush of fluid.
Whatever suspicions he may had about her lying, he'd quickly forgotten. The compulsion had worked. He was convinced. Looking at the badly injured leg, Niklaus felt for a brief moment something he couldn't describe. He hadn't felt it in close to a century. It was sympathy, mixed with the smallest portion of regret.
"Hannah, why do you have those markings?"
"To separate us from the wolves," she answered mindlessly.
"What do they mean?"
"The way, the truth, the light."
"What does that mean?"
"Protetto."
"Protected, from what?"
"Malvagio."
"Evil?" He snickered, debating whether he should spoil her fantasy that their little superstition had worked, burning him briefly.
The sheet was soaked through with blood, making a mess of the bedding and driving Niklaus to the point of distraction with hunger. Looking around, for anything to wrap around the opening, so he could finish his questioning without needing to feed, he hastily tugged at the sleeve of his own tunic, ripping it from the hem, tying it around the wound as a bandage.
The whole time, while he played the reluctant nurse to her patient, Hannah sat motionless, pretending to still be under compulsion.
"Do you think me evil, Hannah?"
The markings did protect its canvas from evil, but more specifically they protected the person's mind and soul. Levada once told her that the females of Hannah's line had worn them since before she could remember. A tradition in their family since the women were cursed and couldn't turn to protect themselves or their children against the demons that preyed on their village, fought against the wolves.
Painful, considered a blemish and rumored terrible luck, the other women of the village laughed and ridiculed the tattoos. Hannah had been ashamed to think that she'd too have to someday wear one. But Levada insisted and Alexander had refused to take her without it.
"No."
"Are you scared of me?"
"No."
Both of course were lies, but easily flowing from her tongue as the combined blood loss from the night before and Niklaus' test proved to be too much. The room lost its equilibrium, going hazy.
As her eyes fluttered close, Hannah could his cold hands on her face, trying to revive her, keep her with him so he could interrogate her further.
She'd been asleep for most the day. Not stirring, but still breathing, he'd considered moving her from his room over a dozen times as he peered at her over his book. It was annoying, having her there, invading his personal space.
They were so weak, fragile, and easily breakable. If he moved her once more, she's probably be worse off and then he'd never have a chance to train her, pump her for the information they needed.
But still she slept. Maybe all humans slept this much? He wouldn't know. He didn't share quarters with the women he fucked. Finally as the sun began to set on the horizon, Elijah darkened his doorway.
"Is she still asleep?"
"Yes, if she doesn't wake soon, I'll have to call the crematory."
"You could have killed her, Niklaus," Elijah warned. "You must have drained her to the point of death for her to sleep this long."
Hannah was careful not to stir. In truth she'd been awake for minutes, but had been laying there trying to plot her next move.
"Tempting thought. But it wasn't dinner that left her like this. She cut her thigh, lost a lot blood," he commented, not bothering to look up from his book.
Curious, Elijah stepped forward, pulling the sheet from her legs, pushing back the bandage.
"Cut herself, Niklaus?" He sharply, added, "She looks like a damn ham."
"She did it herself," he offered. "I asked her to prove herself that she was under compulsion. She took the extra initiative."
"Why would you ask that?"
Nodding to girl, he answered, "Check her side."
Lifting her arm, Elijah read the markings, before snatching his hand back after being burned.
"What are they for?"
"The girl claims, protection. Some witch spelled it, in their village."
"Was she under compulsion?"
"Did you look at her leg?" he answered dryly.
"Niklaus your little test, although amusing for you, may have ruined our entire plan. How are we to explain this to her brother when he returns?"
"She'll wake before then."
"Are you so sure?"
Annoyed, he shot back, "And you could have done better? Please, it takes you moments alone with the humans to slip back into old ways."
"Old ways?"
"Easily manipulated by innocence, a pretty face," he taunted.
"I remember a time when Tatia fooled you as well."
Snapping his book shut, he answered, "No need to get nasty."
Eying his brother, he walked to the side of the bed, roughly shaking Hannah.
"Up now, we have waited long enough."
On cue, she opened her eyes, staring up at the two vampires leering down at her. Grabbing for the sheet she pulled it over herself.
Leaning forward, attempting to be not so abrasive, Elijah tried, "Good evening, Hannah." She could feel him attempting to compel her.
"How are you feeling?"
"Fine."
"Does your leg hurt?"
Like hell she wanted to say, but answered, "No."
Seemingly approving, Elijah stepped back and let Niklaus take over. Under what they believed to be complete submission they questioned her for close to an hour, about the hunters, the witch, their village, the spell and finally the map.
All along she gave them as vague of answers as she could quickly come up with. But two things they seemed to always circle back to: what were her markings for and where did the map lead.
To each she answered, "Protection from evil, the wolves," and, "I don't know."
The consistency of her answers and the listlessness of her tone, lead both the brothers to believe her to be telling the truth. However, the questions were only the beginning. For the next three days that Alexander, Isa and the hunters were gone; they'd continued to try to manipulate her. Through what they believed to be compulsion, they trained her to reassure the Five that they were trust worthy. They bid her to learn from her brother where the map led.
Time lost all meaning as they kept her in a room, conditioning her during the days, while Niklaus found her at night. Believing Hannah to be completely submissive in compulsion, he didn't bother with pretty words or promises when he came. He wasn't malicious but he wasn't kind either when he entered her room and fed from her, occasionally fucking her in the process.
Afterwards, when he'd roll off and she'd stare mindless at the ceiling, she'd often wish she could cry, that she was allowed to feel anything at all. Instead she simply pulled away rolling on her side. Praying that Alexander and the four would come soon.
One night, the last night he visited her, he lingered after they were finished. Not bothering to rise immediately. As Hannah pulled away, curling into herself, he turned his head and watched.
She was beautiful. It wasn't that he hadn't noticed before. Only that he hadn't bothered to appreciate it: dark hair, fanning over her back.
It was brief, fleeting and painful as he thought of her. More than a hundred years past: the same dark hair, pale soft skin, by firelight and her laugh. How he missed her laugh, thought of it so many times over the years.
"Niklaus," she would breathe against his lips when he kissed her. "Niklaus," she'd answer when he made love to her. "Niklaus," she'd laugh, when he begged her for one more moment together.
Something about Hannah had been strangely familiar. Bringing back the memories of Tatia, he'd long since tried to forget. The Hannah that laughed at him, when he was still pretending to be charming, the Hannah that smiled sweetly when he kissed her, the Hannah that innocently asked, "Do you love me?" The Hannah from before he revealed himself. That was the Hannah that reminded him so strongly at times of Tatia.
Uncharacteristically, he reached out, his fingers tracing her spine, like a lover not a predator. Disgusted, a tear slipped down her cheek, blotting into the pillow.
Could he not just leave her be? All she wanted was to sleep and forget this had happened.
Sliding closer, Niklaus did something he hadn't since he was still human. Overcome with a weak moment of nostalgia, believing himself to be safe from ridicule with no one to witness and Hannah under compulsion, he pulled her in closer until her the back of her thighs fit against him.
Brushing her hair to the side, she prepared herself to be bitten and was surprised to instead feel his lips against her skin. Not rough like they usually were, he kissed her shoulder, the base of her neck, his arm wrapping around her.
She could feel him brush the underside of her breast, exploring, taking his time, his lips slick against her jaw. With her eyes closed, she didn't feel love but she didn't feel repulsion either.
Hannah felt appreciated, getting a brief glimpse of what it was like when you were really touched, when the person cared for you, loved you even.
She might have allowed herself to enjoy it, relaxed for even a moment, thinking of the Niklaus she had thought him to be. Pretending that this was what it had always been like, if he hadn't whispered, "Tatia," in between kisses.
"Tatia," he said it again as he pulled her close enough that she could barely breath. His head rested behind her, mouth kissing the bruises his fangs had left on her shoulders, when his arm shifted, accidentally grazing her side.
And the memory was broken. Burned by her markings, he pulled back, aware once more of the moment, embarrassed by his lapse and silly affections. Kissing, holding, touching Hannah as if she were Tatia, who was over a hundred years in the grave, her bones now dust.
Abruptly rising, he threw on his clothing, readying himself to leave, before he stopped by the side of the bed.
"Hannah."
When she looked up at him, he firmly answered, "You will forget this. This never happened."
But she'd never forget it. That was the problem. Years from now, that voice would come to her in her sleep. Deceivingly sweet, but ultimately cruel, leaving her to wake in sweat with fear.
When they had come back to collect her, three days later, they'd explained that they'd come upon a trouble on the road, Vampires. In truth they'd found a small hoard, that attempted to attack them, feed on the five hunters.
Hannah had never been so relieved to see Isa and Alexander. As if she was coming out of a terrible nightmare. Attempting to stifle herself, she acted normal, hovering by Niklaus' side before they left. Avoiding Isa's stare as he looked her over, head to toe, ready to rip out the throat of every Mikaelson in the room, if he thought one hair was out of place.
The journey back to Venice took only a day, but it was a grueling one. Bruised on her legs from bite marks, she was careful not to grimace as the horse, rubbed against her thighs. Not yet, she wouldn't tell the hunters, Alexander, anything until they were back in the city. Fearing that if she said something too soon, emotions would get the best of them, they'd rush back to that house, unprepared, easily being slaughtered. They needed time to plan. The Mikaelsons would not be like the other vampires, the hunters had met. Hannah didn't know exactly how old they were, but she had a feeling that they were much more experienced, wiser, than the freshly turned predators the hunters had dealt with thus far.
When they'd finally stepped foot inside the diplomat's old home, she gathered the hunters at their evening meal.
"Five days time and we should be ready to leave. With enough Vervain, we'll be able to make the journey uninterrupted."
As Alex continued their discussion, Hannah slowly rose from the table, making her way to its head.
"And what about Rebekah? What do you plan to do with her?"
Alexander hesitated, "After we wed, she can stay here with Hannah."
"No," Isa interjected. "We are not leaving her here with them."
"She will be my wife."
"Then you may do with her as you please. But we are not leaving Hannah with those people. There is something wrong with them, Alexander. They've been lying to us."
"They put wolf bane into the wine, because they were nervous, Isa," Alexander scoffed. "And should they not be, after what we've told them of our village?"
"I would never attack humans."
"If you could control it, Isa."
Where moments before, Hannah was ready to tell them about Niklaus, Rebekah, Elijah and the days she'd spent in hell, she'd now momentarily forgotten what she was going to say.
"Isa?" She questioned. How could Isa, the boy she'd grown up with, thought of as a brother, be a wolf and she'd never known?
Had everyone else, all the hunters known, this entire time and no one had bothered to tell her?
"We didn't want to worry you, Hannah," one of the hunters answered.
"You wanted to keep me ignorant," she accused.
Interjecting, Isa continued, "They tried to kill me, Alexander. We are not leaving Hannah with those people. And you should not wed that woman."
Angered now, her brother answered, "Rebekah has done nothing wrong and Hannah is my sister. Not yours. She will stay here with the Mikaelson's when we leave. She'll be safe here."
Clearing her throat, Hannah interrupted, "I am not staying with the Mikaelsons and you are not wedding that woman."
Her hands shook, as Alexander began to argue that it wasn't her place. Clearly he was not willing to listen to reason, which was why she'd waited till they were back in Venice away from that house and those things, before she'd said a word. Without further occasion, she shrugged the material from her body, letting it pool on the floor. Naked, the men stared at her, wide eyed with surprise.
Alexander's face pink with embarrassment, until they all looked closer. Spread over her shoulders, under her breasts, along her thighs, there were black and blue marks from puncture wounds. She looked like a piece of raw hide a dog had gnawed on.
When they could not find the words, startled into silence, she answered, sure as she'd been of anything, "We are going to kill them, every single last Mikaelson, until their bodies wither grey and cold."
"It's too dangerous."
"Are you scared, Isa?" She meant it to be a joke but the mood was too heavy. Alone now, the men, still partially in shock, had left to plan for the vampires' arrival the next day.
"No. But you should be."
"If you dislike me so much, you need not dance around it."
Lingering behind, he hadn't moved from his seat all night and had hardly said a words past her reveal.
"I do not wish to see you get yourself killed, chasing after vampires."
"Is that not why we have come all this way, to kill them? If you waiver in your resolve then why are you here?"
Eerily quiet, calm up until this point, "For you," he snapped. "Why else would I be here? I do not need to hunt out the vampires, they will find me. I do not need the witch's spell to protect me. I can protect myself."
"And so can I."
He shook his head, clearly disagreeing. He could have launched into a speech about her being foolish. He could have chastised her for not coming to him, saying something earlier. He could have vomited at the thought of someone else touching her. But they were beyond that point now. He should have said something all those months before, made her listen then and he could have possibly saved her from this mess.
Now, even though late, it better than never, "I came for you, because I wanted to be close to you. And you refused to leave Alexander," he confessed.
Although his sentiments were sweet, his tone was not. Surprised, Hannah didn't know what to say.
"I tried to tell you… too many times. I don't hate you, Hannah. I love you. I don't want for you to leave Alexander, I want for you to leave with me."
"Did you really join for me?"
Softening, Isa rose from the table, "Yes."
"Oh…." She was out of more intelligent things to say. A stiff breeze could have knocked her over. All this time, she'd been wrapped up in someone else's lies. All the times, Isa had warned her to stay away from Niklaus, been downright rude to him in front of her.
"Will you go home with me? Leave this behind, Hannah. We could be happy, we could wed. I could make you happy."
She should have answered, "Yes." It would have made everything so much easier. But she couldn't. For whatever reason, the picture that he painted seemed incomplete, unfinished, like it would always be someone else's life. Not hers.
Something pulled her back from his happy ending, back towards Niklaus Mikaelson, back straight into hell. And she couldn't fight it.
When they'd arrived to make plans for the wedding in days, the hunters acted as if nothing had changed. Alexander played along with Rebekah, promising her of the places they would go after they'd returned.
Hannah played puppet to Niklaus' puppeteer, bending to his every whim and instruction. Even Isa, although burning to rip their throats out, acted cordial. When evening had finally come, the old house on the canal had fallen silent.
Shutting the door behind them to her room, she found Niklaus was pouring himself a glass of wine.
Without bothering with pleasantries or mindless chit chat, he headed straight for his point. "Hannah, where did your brother tell you the map leads?"
"To your death," she thought.
"I don't know."
"How do you read it?"
This was it, they either succeeded tonight or they'd all die. There was no room for error or fear. Everything was riding on her. Niklaus wasn't like Elijah or Rebekah. He was stronger than the others, much less feeling. They looked to him for guidance, for whatever reason.
The men had repeatedly refused her, instructing Hannah to pretend to be sick and instead slip out of the house, run for neighbors and wait. But she'd stood her ground. Knowing they'd never be able to get close enough to Niklaus to stake him, before he'd kill them. They needed someone whom he wouldn't expect. They needed Hannah to try.
Taking a deep breath she answered, "Their swords, the key is on the hilt." To win she'd have to play his game. She'd have to submit. He was so much stronger than her. He'd had years maybe centuries for all she'd knew, of killing experience.
"Mary, pray for us sinners, now and in the hour of our death," she whispered in her mind. I was Niklaus or Hannah, that simple. A dangerous game of cat and mouse and what a scary thought. She couldn't have been the first to try to kill him and he was still here. He'd never lost.
As he seemed to ponder her answer, she stripped from her dress, trying to sum any sensuality she could muster. She'd never been particularly confident. But she'd have to be to survive this. He had to feed on her. It was the only chance she had of weakening him, with glasses of Vervain she'd consumed hours before.
Standing in front of him in only her shift, she took the glass from his hand, taking her last few gulps of liquid courage.
"Your quite eager this evening," he answered, seemingly unimpressed.
"Do you not want me?" She asked innocently, her head rotating to the side, exposing soft white skin vascularized with warm blue blood.
The blade rubbed against the inside of her thigh where it had been strapped. To encourage further, she reached out, fingers trailing down his tunic, to the hardening outline of his cock.
"Sure of yourself, aren't you?"
Pressing herself closer against him, she answered, "I only wish to please you."
Smirking, he could feel his fangs descend as his listened to the steady pulse ticking away beneath the surface of her skin.
"Dinner first, Pet," he murmured.
In those last moments before his fangs sunk into her, Hannah wished she'd said goodbye to Isa, told him that she cared for him. That maybe someday they could be happy. Someday when she'd forgotten Niklaus Mikaelson and didn't become nauseated at the thought of someone touching her.
But it was too late for that now. If she failed, she'd never be able to say goodbye.
When Niklaus broke skin, she had a brief flash, maybe it was panic or pain, but she saw herself years from then, holding a girl's hand, whispering encouragements as she carved markings into her own daughter.
"La via, la vertia, la luce," she'd said, kissing the freshly inked skin.
Greedily, his hands dug into her arms, breaking the small vessels, blood pooling into the tissue to form later bruises. At first, he was so consumed with hunger, annoyed with her lack of answers that he hadn't noticed the burning. But as he continued to draw from her, his mouth, then body, felt as if it were on fire. Driven by thirst, but repulsed by pain, he was in a dead heat for intent of action. His body screamed for him to pull away, but him mind yelled just as loudly to continue.
VERVAIN. VERVAIN, his senses cried.
The little bitch had tried to poison him. The thought of it was enough to make him fight through the pain, in a mad desire to drain her for her deceit.
But the dose she'd taken was too strong, weakening him quickly until his lips slid from her skin. Slumping against her like an invalid, he gurgled, "Vervain," as she let him drop to the ground, his head slamming against stone floors.
"Not as stupid as you thought, Niklaus?"
Straddling him, she reached between her thighs, procuring a dagger covering in white powder. He tried to raise his arms to toss her off, but he was still weak and too late. Plugging it into his chest, she whispered, into his ear, "La tua cura, Pet." (Your cure, Pet)
Like ash, the veins of his face and body grew black, his skin graying as he was immobilized. Not lingering for even a moment, she rose from the body, throwing open the door, running from the room.
"Isa," she called out, skidding down stone hallways in bare feet. "Alexander? Isa!" panicked she spent minutes looking from room to room. Had he failed? Had Rebekah overpowered Alexander? Elijah, Isa and the other hunters?
"Hannah!" Turning, she saw him running towards her, "They're dead."
"Where is Alexander, the others?"
"Coming."
Finally reaching her, Isa grabbed her face examining her, "Are you okay?"
"Fine."
"Isn't that sweet?"
To Hannah's horror, waiting at the end of the long hall stood Niklaus, very much alive and covered in blood.
Wiping his mouth, he casually continued, "Unfortunately, they will not be joining you," as he sauntered towards them.
Toying with the dagger she had stabbed him with minutes ago, he tossed it aside, the metal ricocheting off the wall. He didn't need a dagger to kill them. He could do it all on his own, with ease.
Pushing Hannah behind him, Isa ordered, "Hannah… run."
A slow smile spread across Niklaus' face as he watched the wolf try to protect the girl, one Isa would never have but he'd had more than enough times to feel smug.
"Yes, Hannah, do run. It'll make it that much more fun when I catch you."
"Go!" Isa yelled, pushing her back, causing her stumble. As Niklaus bore down on her old friend, Hannah turned sparing one last look at the only person, besides Alexander, who had loved her enough to die for her.
Hideous noises echoed down the hallways as she stumbled in the dark. What was she doing? She couldn't just leave Isa.
Only a coward would run. She stopped herself so abruptly that she slid into the balcony doors, glass cracking and shattering from the force.
Blood oozed from her arm and shoulder.
"Careful, Pet. You don't want to make it too easy for me now."
Her head wiped around looking for the direction in which his voice had come. Stepping back, her bare feet crunched on glass as cool air from the balcony hit her legs.
"Where is Isa?"
"Dead, although I will say, he did put up a good fight. It took me a few moments to snap his neck."
Disgust welled inside her as she backed away, her feet leaving a trail of blood across the small balcony.
Isa was dead. Alexander was dead. It was just her now. The thought of it made her want to surrender right then. Why live? Why fight? What left did she have? Soon, the railing pressed against the small of her back.
"I will say you did surprise me. I thought you to be much more stupid than what you are."
"Not half as stupid as you," she snapped back.
Grabbing the railing, she snickered, "La via, la vertia, la luce: libertà dalle sue parole, idiota." (The way, the truth, the light: freedom from your words, idiot.)
"Careful Pet, I am not the one pressed against a balcony railing waiting to die."
He was right, she had been stupid. She'd allowed herself to believe that he loved her. She'd fallen for his false charm and saccharine sweet lies. But she wasn't weak. That she wouldn't give him.
Hannah refused to allow him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble with fear before he killed her.
"You thought you, could kill me?" He laughed. "Such a naive little girl, playing a game you can't win. We had our fun though, did we not?"
"Mi fai schifo," (you disgust me) she answered, bracing her weight against the railing pushing herself further up against it.
"Come now, you did not always feel that way." He paused, before stepping closer, "Mayhaps you feel the need to lie now that you wolf friend is dead?"
His foot brushed aside glass, as he moved to step onto the balcony, "Such pathetic things. You love so easily, so stupidly."
With each word he said she pushed herself further up the railing, subconsciously, until her foot had slid down the other side.
He was toying with her, peppering her with insults before he killed her. Why did she care? Did it matter now whether or not she died?
And then it came to her, briefly flashing through her mind, as he finished telling her how he'd killed Isa. The image of the girl, tears in her eyes, looking down at her as her skin was washed in blood and ink. She was innocent, scared and full of love for Hannah.
The next words that came from her mouth, were seeped in hatred and cruelty, thinking of Alexander and Isa dead, innocence lost and the little girl that waited for her. "Tatia, Tatia, Tatia," she taunted as her other leg slipped over the railing. Niklaus so caught up in the name, one she'd heard Elijah use and later Niklaus weakly whisper, that he'd missed her movements.
"Sia Lei a contorcersi per sempre con un altro uomo," she cursed (May she forever writhe under another man).
As Niklaus lunged forward, desperately wishing to snap her neck for even mentioning Tatia's name, Hannah's feet left the ledge, her shift ripping as he tried to pull her back but couldn't. Standing with pieces of cotton linen in his hand, he watched as she dropped to the canal water below.
The fall surely hadn't killed her. It was only two stories. But the water remained calm around the house, no signs of life coming up for air. He could have jumped in after her, swam around until he found her and gladly finished her off. But ultimately he decided against it.
Elijah and Rebekah were lingering, still staked.
Hannah would have to wait. He'd find her, no doubt about that. And when he did, she would wish desperately that she had kept her mouth shut and let him finish her that night.
As he stalked back into the house, Hannah watched from below the surface, slowly peeking her head up for air, houses away.
It wouldn't be the last time she would see Niklaus Mikaelson. But it would be the last time she ran.