I'm Not Calling You A Liar

by bkgrl

The last time Klaus had seen her (Caroline) it was 1922 and she was bleeding out, calling his name, with a stake in her hand. Esther's curse involved a doppelganger and a hunter, who would spend the next 9 life times and 1000 years, distracting, stalking, killing, loving, annoying and torturing Niklaus Mikaelson, forever thwarting his efforts to break the moonstone curse.

11. 1492 AD, Lyanna P5-A

A/N:

As some of you are aware, this chapter has been split up due to the fact that it would easily 50,000-60,000 words. Which I have no qualms posting ridiculously long chapters however between reader complaints and people missing things because the chapters become too arduous to pick up all the little details and nuances, I've decided to split this one up as a courtesy to readers. The second part has for the most part been written and will be posted in 7-10 days. This should give everyone time to absorb everything and not feel as if they are being water boarded with details and feels.

Also I have said this before but really go to my tumblr page (the link is on my profile) and there you can find story details including all of the future teasers and graphics made by lovely readers.

To answer a few questions, a reader asked if I was aware that Scrathclyde is actually in Scotland. Thank you to that reader and yes I am well aware that modern Scrathclyde is a Scottish territory. However for this time period and as described in the first chapter where Greyshaw Manor sits is really on the borderlands. These territories were fought over between the Scottish and English crowns for years and were consistently in flux between rulership. This was touched on in the Lyanna chapter where Parliament was introduced.

Also the hint that I had before as to why Tatia was pregnant when she died, see end notes and that will be explained.

There are end notes after the last scene. I have talked about doing lists of symbolism and I have begun work on that. But in the meantime, although this chapter is littered with many, many things, I pointed out a few crucial ones off the top of my head so it would be worth your time to glance over that and understand what is coming for part B and future chapters.

In this chapter there is one scene written by Bri, a good friend of mine and a fantastic writer. She wrote the second Silas scene because I am just such a huge fan of her work. I recommend you check out her story The Path and the rest of her work. A lot of what she writes motivates me to keep writing and challenging myself because she is so fantastically talented.

Finally, this chapter is edited by my dear friend Jen. She is such a huge part of what makes this story work as I piece together scenes. Without her, I may have given up writing INCYAL long ago so we all owe her a huge thanks.

Ps- I love you all and thank you so much for reading.

---

Both under influence
We had a divine sense
To know what to say
Mind is a razor blade

To call for hands of above
to lean on
Wouldn't be good enough

And you, you knew the hand of the devil
And you, kept us awake with wolves teeth
Sharing different heartbeats
In one night

We were in love...

Heartbeats- Jose Gonzalez

---

At the beginning of time, prior to the creation of earth, the solar system or mankind, there were only the heavens where Hashem ruled supremely and his angels obeyed without question.

Before his apostasy, Lucifer sat at the hand of the father, high and exalted, next in honor to the God's dearly beloved son. When his jealousy grew of Christ's ascendency over him, Lucifer's plot to excise Christ began.

In time, he cast himself from God's inner circle and his loyal servants, denouncing them all as slaves. In his stand he garnered support, appealing to a few select angels around him, flattering them with promises of power and succession over God and his son.

When the rebellion began the heavens were divided between those who stood loyal to God and those who sought new governance. To Lucifer they flocked, as their new leader made promises of the great new wonder they would share.

When God could no longer tolerate Lucifer and his followers' insolence in heaven, a great war broke out. Angel against Angel, God's army against Lucifer's regiment, the heavens were torn apart before God prevailed and the archangel Michael threw Lucifer from heaven.

As he fell in shame from his place of exultance, he took with him his followers who descended beyond the realm that would be earth and its universe.

However, before they took residence in their antiuniverse, Lucifer's minions mated with those who inhabited God's world, as a final insult. Defiling those whom were made in His image, they created a subset of species that were not angel, demon nor human. They fell beyond the spectrum of what was created by Hashem and imitated by Lucifer.

These new subspecies that evolved would go by many names: fairies, witches, sirens, werewolves, shape shifters and others. As they populated the world, it was decided that since these creatures would live amongst God's creations and were neither of heaven or hell but caught in between, they could not be claimed for either side in the battle for the souls of mankind. Instead each individual creature would choose.

Therefore as they survived amongst the humans, influencing all of those they came into contact with, it was proclaimed that these creatures could not be left to their own devices. If they were to play in God's world and choose their place among the evil or the saintly, they would need a leader- no rather, a governance of their own. So it was decided between God and Lucifer that an angel should be chosen, one who was neutral in the war over human souls. And that is how it came to be that Silas, as she would be known to every supernatural creature that scattered to the ends of earth's corners, would manage her new population of outsiders.

As Lucifer before her, she descended from heaven, shedding her wings as she fell. When she landed, well before the birth of Christ, the first world flood, David and (her subject) Goliath, Moses and his people, she came to be feared by all those who hovered on the outskirts of mankind. Many never knew who she was for they would encounter only her army of foot soldiers, those sent out into the world to watch over her creatures. But if at some point, if those under her watchful gaze should be stupid enough to step out of line, incite a war amongst themselves, influence the human lives too greatly or try to create a sub species of their own, then they would meet Silas and her justice.

Not many survived past that first meeting...

---

Scrathclyde

1492 AD

The morning they left it was bitter cold, frost clouding every window of the great manor.

"You will write as soon as you arrive?"

Lyanna tucked the loose pieces of her shawl into an intricate fold around her shoulders. She pulled on her gloves as a young woman of the house, placed her fur lined cloak on her back, tying it at the neck, adjusting the hood as Lyanna nodded, thanking her.

"Elspeth, by the time you would receive it, I will be back to say whatever would be written, in person."

The elderly woman looked past her, to Klaus who stood at the door, conversing with Elijah. The brothers' voices were so low that Elspeth couldn't decipher the conversation.

"As I said, you will write?" Elspeth repeated, casting a particularly indignant look in Niklaus's direction. Catching it, he nodded, smirking in return, goading her and enjoying every moment.

Shooting a wary glance in her traveling companion's direction, Lyanna answered, "Elspeth, everything will be fine."

"tiarna déan trócaire orainn." Elspeth had insisted that Lyanna take her own carriage. That it was improper for an unwed Lady to travel so far alone in the company of a man. More she pushed for Lyanna to stay as far away from Niklaus as possible. But in the end it was safer for them to travel together than apart, a point that Niklaus was quick to make and Elijah was slow to convince her of completely. (Lord have mercy on us).

Moreover, Elspeth may have been apprehensive about letting Lyanna travel with Lord Mikaelson but she was practically tachycardic when Lyanna invited both Elijah and Kol into Greyshaw Manor. On the grounds they may have been plenty of times, but never once had they set foot inside. The poor elderly woman had barely recovered when Lyanna quietly informed her that either one or both (depending on their preference- hers leaned towards Elijah) would be taking up residence in Greyshaw Manor in her absence.

In their current situation, as with Lyanna's travel plans, it may have been the most prudent action, but that didn't make the elixir any less bitter for Elspeth to swallow. She disliked them all, every single last Mikaelson. Two hundred years her people had lived on these lands amongst the wolves. Over five generations of loyalties, hard wired prejudices, were almost impossible to forget. Lyanna was no longer a child, however. But like every mother, Elspeth found it arduous to relinquish that maternal hold and allow her to make her own decisions.

"Are we ready?"

"Just one moment," she answered, attempting to gently disentangle herself from Elspeth.

"I will be fine, mo ghrá, promise."

Framing Lyanna's face with her hands, as if she were afraid it would be the last time they'd speak in years rather than a week, Elspeth begged, "Promise me you will go to service on Sabbath," then leaning in even closer, as if Niklaus, Kol and Elijah couldn't hear her regardless, she whispered, "Sleep with your rosary beneath your pillow." Lyanna could feel her forcing the beads into her hands, bringing back the kinds of images Elspeth was trying to prevent, but unbeknownst to her or anyone, had already regretfully taken place.

"Pray over your chambers when you arrive. Anoint the door with oils, to protect yourself," the way her eyes trailed in the direction of the brothers, made it clear whom she thought Lyanna needed protection from.

Kissing her mother's forehead, she replied, "Yes daor, I will."

Overhearing the entire exchange, a smirk twitched at the corners of Niklaus's mouth. It was such an old superstition, one he'd started not long after Hannah, more in mocking rememberance and it still held weight. The humans still though their God and the church repelled his kind.

Elijah shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat, giving his brother a discouraging, stern look.

Kissing Katerina's cheek, she reached for Lilly, pulling her into a tight embrace. It wouldn't matter how low she whispered her next warning, she knew Kol could hear it regardless, "Guard yourself, Love."

"We will be fine Lyanna," Lilly encouraged, knowing her sister's fear in leaving them.

"Lyanna..." Niklaus's impatience was not subtle in the slightest. Taking her parcel from Lilly, she kissed both her and Katerina one last time before heading for the door.

Outside, they crunched through snow coated dirt, her nose turning pink from the chill.

"Here let me assist you," Elijah offered, taking her by the elbow. With Niklaus already in the carriage, they stopped a few feet from where the coachman waited.

Slipping her fingers through the twine bound package, she retrieved a thick letter addressed to him.

"I want you to have this." How just like Lyanna to write him before she left. It had been weeks since they had shared this kind of communication. Their last, even semi private, encounter was at the ball where he'd told her how he'd missed her and then afterwards involved himself in a heated encounter with Katerina.

They are just humans, he'd told himself. But it didn't feel that way. They didn't feel as if they were expendable and his encounter with Katerina had left him knowing that in some way he'd betrayed Lyanna. That he'd been far less than honorable about the entire thing.

"And I wanted to thank you," she touched the chain at her neck, "For sending this to me."

He looked at her strangely, "I'm afraid I do not know what you are referring to."

"This necklace... the gift from Lord Harte. Did you not send this?"

"No."

Before she had time to think on the matter any longer, he interrupted, "You will be safe?" he didn't know why he questioned it. Klaus would sooner burn Harte Manor to the ground then let anything to happen to Lyanna and allow his plan to be ruined.

Klaus's plan. He'd rather not think about that. Not with Lyanna's letter in his hand and her sincerity staring at him.

"I'll be fine."

He wanted to kiss her. It only felt natural, like the parting between a husband and wife. But he could feel his brother's eyes on him. Then again, since when had Klaus become the supreme law of the land?

Leaning in, he caught her off guard as he his lips pressed to hers and waited merely seconds for her to invite him even slightly further. To Lyanna it felt like the last piece of comfort she'd get before the longest, most charged journey of her life. Everything about them was strained but somehow she felt that she could trust Elijah still.

"Promise me, Elijah that you will take care of them." It wasn't Katerina and Lilly she should be concerning herself with. Rather it should have been her own well-being- traveling alone with Klaus. Elijah could only hope that neither would provoke the other and that his younger brother could keep his temper in check.

"I promise."

A throat cleared, as Klaus called from the inside, "Now that, that matter is settled, do you mind? We have a long journey."

Elijah plastered on a forced smile, "Of course," helping Lyanna into the carriage. Glancing at his brother he bid, "Safe travels," before thoughtfully nodding at Lyanna.

He hardly had time to say another word before Klaus leaned forward, slamming the carriage door shut, calling to the coachman, "We are ready."

The horses lurched forward with the crack of a whip, causing Lyanna's book to fall from the seat. Trying to find balance, she resituated herself before looking around for her parcel.

"Here," handing her the letters that fell from inside, she quickly took them from him. They were not even minutes into the laborious journey and she was already flustered.

"Petrarch's Canzoniere?" he commented, but she didn't answer, instead choosing to look anywhere but at him, before opening her book.

She certainly wasn't going to make it easy for him. He was almost amused that she had brought reading material, clearly making it known that she wasn't interested in conversation.

Leaning back, he considered being obnoxious and staring at her for the entirety of the trip. If she was going to be rude, should he not be rude in return? Humans and their little games- so boring and tedious as they were.

Minutes passed, Lyanna settled in for the trip, seemingly not bothered by his presence at all. The only noise in the small space, for a time, was the rustling of pages. Looking at the stack of letters resting in her lap, he wondered who they were to or rather from. He should have looked before.

Perhaps his brother? She'd exchanged a letter him only minutes before. And he was curious, what did she say to Elijah in these new letters after their little lie (one of many) was exposed? Did they still carry on with simple pleasantries or did they confess things like those he had overheard at the ball?

I miss you as well, she had said to Elijah. Missed him? Please, if she only knew. He could smell Katerina coated on his brother at the ball, like thin layer of oil. Did she miss Elijah when they were in abbey? Did she think of him when they kissed that day at Harte Manor?

He watched her toy with the amber that hung from her neck. His amber: the gift that he'd given her. The amber he had found when he was still human. At the time, part of a larger piece, he'd intended to give it to Tatia the night she'd told him they would never be together permanently.

Then, men gave gifts to those they intended to wed. Perhaps livestock to the woman's father, a portion of their crop for that season. Since Tatia had no father he had instead intended to gift her the amber. But he never did, as she denied his affections and refused his offer.

He should have tossed the stone. He should have left it in the pile of burnt rubble that was their human home. But he was never able to part with it. Perhaps he'd kept it all those years as a reminder of his stupidity.

A century ago, after Anne, the hunters and Hannah, he'd had the stone shaped and set; making a trinket that he'd intended to give Rebekah as peace offering. Something from the home he knew she missed: the life he knew she still desired. But it seemed that his sister might never forgive him for Alexander or Finn as she stayed hidden with Kol. How could she not know that he did it for her own good?

"'Libri quosdam ad scientiam, quosdam ad insaniam deduxere'," he commented nonchalantly, baiting her, hoping that she'd bite, (Books have led some to knowledge and some to madness).

Seconds passed in silence. Finishing her page, Lyanna flipped to the next, but not before answering, "'Stultorum ducuntur ad blis per ignorantiam'," without looking up. (Fools are drawn to the bliss of ignorance)

She was so impertinent that he could just strangle her and at the same time, he enjoyed the bite. "'I ate in the morning what I would digest in the evening; I swallowed as a boy what I would ruminate upon as an older man. I have thoroughly absorbed these writings, implanting them not only in my memory but in my marrow.' "

"You have read Petrarch, I take it?"

"'Shame is the fruit of my vanities and remorse, and the clearest knowledge of how the world's delight is a brief dream.' Yes, Lyanna... close to a century ago."

Finally acknowledging him, she made eye contact, "I thought you found reading to be trite?"

"No, I never said that. I do recall commenting that I thought Dante was trite... all that laminating over a lost love, hell and damnation... more pathetic in fact, than trite."

Lyanna shook her head disingenuously, before returning to her book.

"I take it you disagree Lady Lockwood?"

She shouldn't answer, Lyanna should politely ignore him. Nothing good could come from conversation. It would either end with them screaming at one another or doing other things that Lyanna would rather pretend never happened. Things she refused to admit that she thought about still, often- impossibly frequent. And worst of all, it might lead to a moment when he'd give her that look, the one she hated. It was the one that made her nervous; remembering feelings that she hadn't felt since she was six and ten, when Nathaniel was still alive and everything was still simple because her life was untainted.

"Yes."

Amusement shadowed his eyes, flickering through his expression, "In what way?"

He had expected some tart reply, had formulated a clever list of witty quips in his mind that were useless when her tone took a sharp turn from short to sincere, as she answered with a non sequitur.

"How long have you been alive?"

"A while..."

"How long is a while? It must be longer than a century for Elijah talks of Dante as if he has read him more than a hundred times. It would have to be longer than three centuries for your painting... you said it was from the 12th century."

She'd listened to him? Niklaus had thought she couldn't have cared less for any word that came from his mouth, if it didn't involve her precious little home, saving his doppelganger or proving him wrong.

He swallowed; giving her an indifferent glance as he internally tried to decide just how honest he could be, only to realize how much he'd already unknowingly revealed.

"Five hundred years..." As soon as the words fell from his mouth he felt an immediate need to take them back. Like coins scattering from a purse, he instinctually wished to quickly scurry and recollect them all before it was too late.

He expected shock, for Lyanna to be even slightly aghast, instead she simply replied, "'That is a long time to go without loss...'"

"We do not hold to things as you do."

Immediately her hand went again to her necklace, as if she were thinking of something in particular. In fact, he knew exactly what she was passing through her mind. If there was an impartial, all knowing third party present, the entire little scene would have been the clear depiction of situational irony: Niklaus claimed in so many ways to not feel loss, prompting Lyanna to cling to an artifact that proved him a liar in more ways than one, as she thought of her own tragedy.

"Then do you not feel? You obviously know hatred, smugness and the elation of superiority. But what of joy, sadness or love?"

She had the uncanny ability to corner him on topics he wished to not discuss. Outmaneuvering her inquisition, he fired back, "Is that love Lyanna- sadness?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation, "And agony, bliss and bitter hatred. It is elation and every other spectrum of emotion imaginable."

He remembered it, every feeling that she'd described. Ones that had inspired a drawer full of sketches and what would be centuries of nightmares.

"Sounds like a foolish undertaking."

If only he knew.

He was giving her that look again. This is why she'd brought her book. This is why she considered traveling alone, chancing death on road- all in an effort to avoid these types of moments.

Letters... the letter. She'd written a letter to Elijah. She tried to hold onto solitary things in her mind. Emotions that although riddled with harbingers of a disastrous end, still seemed like prudent action comparatively.

She licked her lips in a most unlady like fashion, before continuing, "'I freeze and burn, love is bitter and sweet, my sighs are tempests and my tears are floods. I am in ecstasy and agony. I am possessed by memories and in exile from myself."

"'Memories of her and I am in exile from myself.'," he completed.

The subtext between them heavy as usual, there was a period of silence before Lyanna replied, "Love is supposed to be painful, Niklaus, for if it was not at some point, we would not rejoice in its adulation."

"So you claim that it was worth the burn?"

It was the way he said it, that made it perfectly clear that he was referring to her past, her late husband and the implosion she'd experienced, rather than a short manageable pain she had suggested earlier.

"Yes."

"Perhaps if you have lived longer you would feel differently."

He had told her that he'd loved or had hinted as much, but now he seemed to be trying to recant those words.

"Are you saying that you have not loved Niklaus or that you do not love?"

Neither.

He had loved and been burned and now without his acceptance was in the process of doing it again, "Love is a weakness, Lyanna. One I do not indulge."

It was then that she knew he hadn't been lying to her, only to himself. He may have believed that he had loved before and perhaps he did, but she had a strange feeling, rather a premonition, that he'd never known it in return.

The look she was giving him brought with it that uncomfortable sensation that always seemed to accompany Lyanna's presence. Quickly changing the topic he questioned, "Do you not ever wish to see these places, instead of reading of them endlessly?"

She smiled, "Yes."

"Then why not go?"

"Perhaps in another life?"

"And if it were this one, where would you go?"

"Persia, Rome, Paris, the Bulgarian States, Egypt, India, the Caspian Sea, the mountain east of ancient Babylonia, Siberia..."

Each destination she spoke of was accompanied with images that shuffled back and forth through his mind: Lyanna in the streets of Calcutta, knee deep in the Red sea, bundled as she looked out over the vast emptiness that was the frozen dead lands in wonder, awestruck as she traced the columns of the Roman coliseum that she'd only read about in books. Bending to touch the cobblestones where Persian kings once stood and her fascination as he told her of Constantine.

"You could go, Lyanna..."

What he thought was I could take you. But before the realization set in that he wouldn't, that she'd never see any of those things she desired because in a few short weeks she'd be dead, Lyanna answered, "No, I couldn't."

"Why?"

"You know why."

Lilly, Katerina, Greyshaw- that land. She couldn't leave because she was tied to it.

"They would not need you to survive," because they wouldn't be surviving at all, soon enough.

"Perhaps I need them." That was a lie and he knew it. The land, the responsibility, those that waited for her, they were stifling, caging her in a place, a life, that was never supposed to be hers, as he saw it.

By this time she had closed her book all together, setting it aside. They continued in conversation, Lyanna asking questions about things and places she'd only ever read or dreamed of, making him describe them all to her in excruciating detail while he obliged, enjoying every twist of her face, smile on her lips. The excitement was intoxicating or perhaps it was just her. Lyanna had the ability to give him one of two extremes: complete joy or horrid misery and for those hours it was blissfully the first.

She had intended to ignore him for their entire day journey, but she never picked up her book for the rest of the trip. Niklaus had wanted acknowledgement, what he got was companionship and real conversation. It was well past night and into the early hours of morning. Lyanna's questions had become few as she tired, drifting in and out of sleep.

Staring at her stack of letters throughout her periods of rest he internally debated whether he should take advantage of her exhaustion and satiate his curiosity. In conclusion, he uncharacteristically decided against it. They had, had such a pleasant period of time together. If he were caught her indignation would surely ruin it. Instead he settled for watching countryside pass by through the coach window and observing Lyanna as she slept.

Burrowed back into the cushion seats, with her cloak wrapped around her like a blanket, he was completely unaware that she'd woken briefly.

"Niklaus..."

"Yes?"

"Was it you that wrote to me about the Parliament?"

A few minutes longer and she would have drifted peacefully back to sleep and he could have waited out her question. Instead he swallowed, "Yes."

"You sent me the necklace from Lord Harte?"

He had sent her an amber from him. He'd lied and said it was from her father, because he knew perhaps a little too well what it felt like to wish so desperately for acknowledgement from a parent but know it would never come.

"Yes."

"Why?" she questioned, her voice fading. He waited until he was sure she had likely fallen asleep before he answered, "Mayhaps, 'I wish to go beyond the fire that burns me.' "

She'd told him that before that there was no point in having intentions if they were not known, if the object of such thought could not be given the opportunity to respond. She was right, but that didn't change the fact that he'd also meant what he'd said earlier: he didn't wish to indulge in weaknesses.

Understanding what he meant completely, she opened her eyes surprising him that she was still awake and had caught his reply.

She should have taken a separate carriage. Lyanna should have just read her book. She should have never asked Elijah about the gift and kept it a mystery. Perhaps then they could have both been spared.

---

She had watched the entire thing from the window. The way he took her arm, the passing of something between them and the kiss. Even through a layer of frost, she could see the affection that they had for one another.

What was it about Lyanna Lockwood that was so wonderful anyhow? Sure, she was attractive but Katerina knew she was more beautiful. Sure Lyanna was intelligent and considerate, but in the end did that really matter? When a man took you to bed, acted out every fantasy he'd been entertaining, he didn't care what a woman had read, how many languages she spoke or how thoughtful of a person she was.

They only cared that the body was warm, willing, attentive and more than appealing to look at.

It wasn't fair.

Didn't she already have enough? She was the Lady of this great house, without a man to answer to, to be controlled by. She had Lilly who adored her, who would do anything for her. And she had Elspeth who loved her like a mother should love a child. How Katerina wished her own mother had been- that she would have cared a little more.

Some days Katerina wished her mother had loved her enough to not send her away: to keep her home, with her child a bastard or not. A real mother, one that cared for her daughter wouldn't have abandoned her.

Never mind that now. Her mother had done her a favor. She may have sent Katerina away, out of shame, but she had saved her from a life of poverty in a tiny little village. She spared her an existence of eking out of pathetic life, as her mother had before her and Katerina's sisters would after.

It was blessing they didn't want her.

Lyanna already had so much in her life. Did she need Elijah as well? Why was it that Katerina could never attract a man like Elijah?

Foolish question, she knew why. He wasn't like Niklaus or Trevor, any of the other men that swarmed to her like flies. He scared her at times. He was so polite, proper and gracious but there were moments when she knew that was all a lie. That he was doing it all to appease her and those around him.

She knew that he could see it in her. The ugly thing that hid under the pretty mask she wore. He knew that under her coy smiles, fake laugh, silly little games, there was something else, something much more desperate.

And that was what repulsed him. It couldn't be anything else. He was male, was he not? He could appreciate a pretty face and light disposition, a willingness to allow him to explore his more basic wants.

No... Elijah was no different than the rest.

He didn't care how many languages Lyanna spoke or how many books she had read, how few games she played with him. When he saw her, he saw the same thing that any man would, a pretty face and a fortune.

One thing Katerina didn't have. Not now, anyhow. Perhaps someday...

Until then, Katerina would have to use what she had. Men's attentions, no matter how noble could never be held. They were just as willing to trade one warm bed for another, if the offer was more enticing.

And she'd make it more enticing. She had no other option. If Elijah didn't want her, if he saw what she really was and it repulsed him so greatly, caused him to withdraw so far that he couldn't be brought back, then what hope did she have? A pretty mask could only be worn for so long.

The fresh illusion would eventually go stale and then what would Katerina be left with? No home, no family... All she had was her looks and her wit. Perhaps not the same as Lyanna's intelligence but she had an intellect of a different kind. One that was so much more valuable to a woman.

Lyanna wasn't like her. She had lived a life of such comfort. She didn't understand what it was like to have to survive by any means possible. Men had their names, fortunes or skills. Katerina had her looks and her uncanny ability to survive.

She may have adored Lyanna, loved her truly, but she wasn't foolish enough to love anyone more than herself. That was a lesson she'd already learnt that hard way.

And perhaps that was Kat's wit, to never make the same mistake twice.

---

1492 AD

Eltham Palace

London, England

Looking about the room it was difficult to ignore the fact that she was the only female present. In a room of fifty men, she stood alone. They had rode through the night and into the next morning. As soon as the horses entered the grounds of Eltham Palace, Niklaus became a stranger to her. He didn't even look at her as they exited the carriage. No parting words, no reassurances and not even a second glance as they were shown to their corridors.

Now, alone amongst anything but friends she started to wonder if every word that had passed between them in the carriage was a lie.

"Lady Lockwood," Lord Morris nodded as he passed her by. Not far behind was Arthur, following him like a shadow. When she'd come to London to be seen by Parliament and King Henry she imagined that it would a private affair. However, it seemed that her story was open for public fodder. Lords from the border lands of Scrathclyde, her neighbors- wolves or their supporters, were there mixed amongst other strange men of the court.

Hands clammy, she nervously smoothed them over the skirt of her gown, trying to calm herself. If she was this distressed and she hadn't even caught sight of King Henry, she couldn't imagine what her heart would be doing when he would finally called her into his presence.

Perhaps things would be better if Niklaus was there. It wasn't as if he didn't give her waves of apprehension as well. However, those types of calamitous feelings would be a welcome distraction at the moment.

"Attention… attention!" A voice rang throughout the hall, heads of men in the room following its source as it finished, "I give you King Henry."

As the men stepped forward, Lyanna couldn't see a thing. They crowded in a path as the king and his close members of parliament entered. Allowing herself to be pushed into the background she would have preferred to stay there until the evening meal, unnoticed and unbothered, but she heard a throat clearing, "Lady Lockwood I presume?"

He was short and balding, dressed in fine fabrics.

"Yes."

"The King requests you come closer." Offering his arm, she had no choice but to take it as she followed him through the small groups that had formed until they reached a clearing and she caught her first glimpses at royalty.

Standing next to the king, Niklaus wore a surcote like nothing she'd ever seen. His houppelande a rich fuchsia, not like anything he'd worn before, even at the ball. His hair pulled back and neatly collected with a leather string. Suddenly her pale blue burgundian seemed impecunious, not helping her nerves in the slightest.

She looked to him, hoping for even the slightest glance of reassurance but found none. Niklaus stared past her like she was made of air.

"Lady Lockwood," diverting her attention, she bowed in greeting to King Henry. A slight man, his face was thin, dark full hair peeking out from under his golden crown. This was the man that had defeated Richard III at the Battle of Bosworth. She tried not on that further. She needed not another reason to feel intimidated.

"Your Grace."

"It has been called to my attention that there has been a disturbance in your area," he started benignly enough.

Lyanna's mouth was open ready to answer when he continued, "On your lands no less… fifteen men found dead. Some would say that you were not only aware but orchestrated their deaths. What say you of these accusations?"

Again, Lyanna opened her mouth to answer only to promptly shut it again when he removed the need for her to not do so, "I'll wait for your explanation when I gather with parliament after the Sabbath."

Not understanding exactly what it was that she was being told, Lyanna should have nodded her head and simply answered, "Yes Your Grace," but never one to be silent she interrupted, "Do you not wish to hear my plea, Your Grace?"

If there was noise, chatter in the background before, it dropped to complete silence, the room full of men in awe or rather horror that she should speak so directly to King Henry.

"No," he paused giving her a long, scrutinizing look, "You may respond to such accusations if the parliament decides to further take your case to the Star Chambers."

The sound of Star Chambers sent a chill down Lyanna's spine. It was almost a thing of nightmares, the dreaded Star Chambers. Seated in Westminster Palace it was a place where nobles could be taken without cause or reason and disappear without a word of explanation to their families. Their land ownership re-evaluated, bequeathed to other members of the court as their families were displaced like vagrants.

"Yes, Your Grace," Lyanna had the good sense to answer, curtseying as she was excused from his presence. If there was one thing she wished for more than anything it was to not see the towers of Westminster unless it was from the window of her carriage and she rode from London back to Scrathclyde and Greyshaw.

---

Scrathclyde

1492 AD

He waited until just before their evening meal to finally read Lyanna's letter. Alone in the rooms he'd been given (begrudgingly on Elspeth's part) in Greyshaw Manor, his shoulder rested against the mantle as he peeled the seal from the thick stack of folded parchment. Inside he found three other letters addressed to Elspeth, Lilly and Katerina. It was then that he realized that this letter wouldn't be like all of those that he had received from her before.

It was goodbye letter, in case Klaus couldn't save her. Elijah hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should continue. It felt that if he read it that would mean that he'd accepted its possibility: Lyanna Lockwood would die. But didn't he already know this?

Looking down at her intricate scrawl, his hand wrinkled the edge of the page: the words looked up at him condemningly. He closed his eyes, fingers smoothing the crinkled parchment.

Was he not in control of his emotions?

Elijah,

Mayhaps there are things that I shouldn't say, words that shouldn't pass between us. Is it too late? Has too much time passed in silence for us to try to begin again, go back and right wrongs? What would be the point now, I often wonder?

I feel if I were to try to resent you it would only be a futile effort. I trust you even when I do not wish to. I'd miss you even if I should not, for how could I not? I feel as though I had a premonition of you before I met you. Mayhaps you came to me in a dream. Is it just I? Do you not feel it as well?

Of course he felt it. They had met in a village in Italy, one night by a fire. But still she was right, beyond even his memories. Even though Lyanna might be Niklaus's hunter, she was something to Elijah as well- something so close, so very familiar. She was not Hannah although it felt as though Hannah was her. And both were someone whom he couldn't place but knew so well from a time before.

Perhaps it was lingering thoughts, memories of Hannah he had yet to place. It was sympathy for a girl that had been so innocent and was toyed with so mercilessly by his brother. An act he did nothing to stop, as he would not again.

I forgive you...

He felt a burn creep up his spine, wrap around his neck, seep into his veins and tug at the lens of his eyes. The smell of Vervain, never again in his thousand years of life would that odor register in his consciousness and would he not see Lyanna, body limp against the ice, limbs hanging like a child's doll needing to retrieved.

He'd pulled her from the water, held her close, carried her home and was afraid to let her go. He'd considered it then, as his brother had accused (mayhaps knew): of taking her and running as far as possible. There was an entire world out there. Could Niklaus look forever? Would he care for anything past the curse? As he had stood on the threshold of the kitchen doors to Greyshaw manor clothes frozen, Lyanna's skin turning ashen with chill, he'd looked at the road and pondered how long he would have, how far he could get? Could he make it to the village, Wales, perhaps London before Klaus would notice their absence? If he went further into Scotland, deep into the Clans, would his brother follow him through the burrows of werewolves that perfumed the Northern wind?

How desperate would he be to kill the widow if she were no longer a threat? But as soon as those thoughts crossed his mind, they were quickly erased. It wasn't Lyanna Klaus would follow, it was Elijah. It wouldn't be her death he sought, but Elijah's for betrayal.

Even though he was sure they could both survive, he could run with her till the end of time, he knew it was kinder to let Lyanna die. She wouldn't wish to live in a world where those she loved were now gone. She fed from their happiness as he fed from hers. And it was that, which convinced him to take her inside. It was with that knowledge that he finally went to his brother.

It wasn't a prevarication to Lyanna. It was betrayal of himself. She would die and he would have to live forever, knowing that he allowed it to happen, that he let someone so perfect, so close to him go.

That he loved her and he had let her die.

Please if I do not return with your brother, I ask that you give these letters to Katerina, Lilly and Elspeth. I have enclosed instructions for each as to what they should do. You'll know when the time is right to do so, as I would trust no one else but you on this matter.

He looked at the letters again, his eyes tracing the Lockwood crest imprinted in the yellow wax.

Mayhaps I should have said more, when we had time. But as the foolish mute or perhaps a coward, I say it now.

If, "... it is time to depart, for me to die (perhaps), for you to go on living; which of us takes the better course, is concealed from anyone except God."

Socrates, Lyanna's favorite. Elijah's lips moved, finishing the rest of the philosopher's thought as if he could hear Lyanna reciting it in his mind.

Somehow, Elijah, I fear not death as much as I do the simple absence. I worry for Lilly and Katerina. I worry for Elspeth, but I do not worry for you. I feel as though if my life should end that my affection for you shall not. What was it that you once said, "We are of but space and time?" Yes, I believe that is true. For as I have known you before in another life, I will again. Perhaps not in this body and not with this mind... but know all the same: if I pass from this life, I will meet you in another.

Only she wouldn't and that was the cruelty of it all. As his brother would kill his hunter's line with the death of the doppelganger, he'd take from Elijah the promise of the future she spoke of.

As I write this I think of your voice guiding me, comforting as you always are. I will think of you as I go to London and if I shall not return I ask three things of you: look after my girls and ask your brother for Canzoniere that I have borrowed from you. I've ruined it now and left something for you inside, in case the time should come. And finally, Elijah, I ask most selfishly for you to consider my request... wait for me in this other life and greet me with a smile? I know I shall look for you.

For it seems that above all else, "these three things remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of all is love."

Lyanna

Folding the letter, he tucked it amongst his things where he intended to keep it forever. Although Lyanna Lockwood was his brother's curse she was his dearly beloved friend and above all else his three remaining things.

---

Eltham Palace

1492 AD

When they were led into the Dining Hall Lyanna looked at the large decadent table: it could have easily sat close to a hundred bodies.

Shown to her seat, they were placed in proximity to the king by their relative importance. At the far end of the table, Lyanna was so far away that it felt as if she were in another room. It spoke volumes of what the court and King Henry himself thought of her, but Lyanna couldn't have been more pleased. That was until she saw who would be neighbors.

Sliding into her seat she looked up to find Arthur seated across from her, Lord Morris to her right, Lord Bosse to her left and their company, flanking their sides. She was surrounded, like a lamb in a wolves' den.

Craning her neck she looked down the length of the great table for Niklaus and found him seated in close proximity to Henry. The thought occurred to her then, that hadn't before, What if he was not her ally but her enemy? What if Niklaus wasn't planning to counter the claims that had been levied against her? What if he intended to use his apparent influence to finish her off?

Was she stupid enough to think differently for even a moment because they had shared something in the carriage ride to London?

Had she forgotten the abbey? His threats before?

"Lady Lockwood," Lord Morris began, leaning in a little closer than what was polite as they were served their course of fowl, "You come to London alone?"

Her first instinct was to look again down the table to Niklaus. Was she alone?

"Yes."

Cutting into his bird, he remarked, "Strange, I heard from the stable master that Lord Mikaelson and yourself shared a carriage from Scrathclyde."

Lyanna picked up her knife, waiting until he made eye contact with her before she poignantly answered, "Yes well, the roads have been dangerous as of late."

"Yes, they have. You never know what vagrant may stop a traveling party, the things that could happen… especially to a woman alone," the way the words rolled off his tongue, it was impossible to perceive them as anything but the threat they were.

Chiming in Lord Bosse began, "Strange the interest the Lords Mikaelson have taken in you and Lady Lilly…."

"I would not call it an interest," she replied carefully.

"Then what would define it?"

Lyanna gave up on cutting her meat. At this rate, she'd not eat one bite if they were to rally back and forth between each other, one taking up where the other left off. Reaching for her glass of wine, she took a lingering taste before she corrected, "An acquaintance."

"I do not know many acquaintances that frequent people's lands as often as he and his brothers seem to, yours."

It wasn't even remotely subtle what they were trying to do. In fact with each passing moment it became more obvious. They would have to wait until the Sabbath, which meant that they had those three days to not only influence parliament and catch the king's ear but also to attempt to slowly drive her mad.

"We are neighbors."

"But just neighbors?" Lord Morris continued, volleying the conversation back into his control.

"Yes, of course. Are you trying to imply something, Lord Morris?"

"I wouldn't dream…" he started, "A Lady is just that: the picture of our father's holy vessel."

"Yes," Lord Bosse interrupted, "Women of good breeding are the purest of mind and body… ladies truly. Although, that is women of noble lines…. Tell me Lady Lockwood, whom was your father again? Your Mother?"

She could feel her cheeks begin to burn hot, both from anger and embarrassment. That they should broach the topic of her parents with what she knew now and even if she was still ignorant, it was slap in the face. Should they not just call her bastard outright? Stop dancing around their blatant innuendos before the second course was served and save their time.

Lyanna closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as they waited for her response that wouldn't come. She wouldn't justify their crude remarks with words. If they meant to break her they would fail. She'd rather freeze with the rats then give them the satisfaction of seeing her flounder.

"Lady Lilly is quite a pretty thing, isn't she?" they began again. Was there no one else to speak to at their end of the table?

"All alone there, with no one to watch out for her with you gone," Arthur this time, added. The sound of his voice was like a knife on porcelain.

"And young Katerina…." Lord Bosse offered, a dark look passing over his face, "A woman with no family…."

"No one to miss her….." Arthur concluded threateningly. The thought of her girls tucked away in Greyshaw at that moment comforted her. Nothing would happen to Lilly or Kat with Elijah there. She may not know where she stood with Niklaus but she always knew where she stood with Elijah.

He had told her he'd protect the girls and she believed him wholeheartedly.

"They are well looked after," she replied curtly.

"One should hope so, times like these…." Lord Morris concluded, a insidious thought shadowing through his eyes, exposing his decrepit mind.

"You mean times when men threaten and kill the innocent?" she fired back quickly. The drink and lack of food from constant interrogation was making her increasingly bold and less polite.

"Men…?" Lord Morris questioned, somewhat amused, "Women as well have been known to commit crimes."

And what was Lyanna's real crime? Protecting what was hers? Protecting the girls? Or just not giving them that damn stone? Not rolling over and letting them have it all.

That was Lyanna's crime: standing up for herself, not backing down, refusing to shriek away at their threats and apparently that was the most egregious one she could commit.

"Because we must…." She finally replied.

"Did you think that when you murder fifteen men?" Arthur accused.

"You and I both know I murdered no one."

"Did you not?" The way he said it, the look her gave her, she could tell where he was going before the next words even left his mouth.

"What of your husband? Did you not murder him?"

No, she hadn't ripped life from Nathaniel's body. She didn't leave him broken, dying alone in the moors. But there had been moments, dark ones in solitude when she had wondered, if it was her that had ultimately killed him.

If she had done things differently, if she could have been different, gave him whatever it was that he seemed to have needed that she didn't provide, would it all have still happened? Could she have spared his life, Lilly and Kat's as a consequence?

Her skin was burning hot. There was no mistaking that she was flustered, the wine causing a knot to form in the back of her throat.

"Stop," she warned.

"No… we both know how Nathaniel passed," Lord Bosse answered for Lyanna.

"Gurgling on his fluids," Arthur mocked. What did this all mean to him? He was no one of great consequence to the outside world. He wasn't a Lord, he owned no significant lands. But he was of great importance to these men. He'd slaughtered her husband and found himself a kingdom, a following and he was coming for the throne.

No matter the cost. No matter who had to die or suffer in the process and they would follow him, do whatever necessary to give him that seat. Pack law, leader rule, came over any law of the land, court or King.

"Did you know he wept like fool before he died?" Arthur taunted. Lies, it had to be a lie. Nathaniel may have been many things, but he wasn't poltroon. Not that it mattered now. Craven of King he was dead and neither his bravery nor cowardice could save her.

"Mayhaps if you had tended to your bed…" Arthur plied away at her, drawing her humiliation out for the world to witness.

"Mayhaps if you satisfied your wife…." she fired back, most improperly but she didn't care, the look on Arthur's face turning sour at the mention of it in front of the other men.

Apparently done with fun and game, Arthur leaned across the table slightly before answering, "You will hand over that stone. You will give me my lands or your head will roll in Westminster while Lilly and that girl will die after they have entertained the pack's interests."

His voice was low enough that no one could hear if they weren't in the immediate proximity of Lyanna and the men. To the rest of the dinner party it was pleasant meal as Lyanna suffered in hell, a silent, relatively unregistered torment.

Unnoticed by all but Niklaus, whom had acutely heard every word that had passed between Lyanna and her attackers.

---

Scrathclyde

1492 AD

Sitting by the fire, the chess board in front of them, Lilly's fingers lingered on his pawn.

"Who taught you how to play?"

"My brother..." she answered absentmindedly, abandoning the pawn and instead reaching for the knight he had hoped she wouldn't notice was vulnerable.

"And you...? Wait, let me guess, someone quite old and now dead?" placing his piece on her side, she smirked.

"Something like that."

"You're a much easier competitor than Lyanna."

"Is that so?" he responded somewhat unamused, glancing over at Elspeth, whom was mending a pair of stockings in the corner, eying them suspiciously. She had been doing so throughout dinner. It was as if the old hag could smell Lilly on him and could see all the lewd acts he'd been plotting out in his mind throughout the entirety of the evening, waiting in anticipation for when she'd retire to bed.

"Yes, she is listening," Lilly whispered, just loud enough that only the two of them could hear.

"I don't like the way she looks at me."

"I rather think Elspeth doesn't prefer the way you look at me."

"Please," Kol scoffed, "What way?"

Looking up from the board, Lilly threw a wary glance in his direction screaming, You know….

Changing the subject, he examined the board, "And who taught Lyanna?"

"The same person who taught Nathaniel... my father."

Lilly had never mentioned her parents, she rarely, only once before, spoke Nathaniel's name out loud to Kol. Perhaps it was something that he was supposed to ask? Isn't that what humans did when they were in these types of "situations" with someone? Kol didn't know. He'd never been in one before.

Now, it seemed as though perhaps if he was supposed to, too much time had passed and to inquire after something so obvious would be maladroit. Then again, not saying something seemed just as awkward.

Stepping out of his comfort zone, Kol started, "You never speak of your parents."

"What is there to say? They are dead," she added, quite bluntly, as if it was a closed matter, something that shouldn't be discussed further.

Internally shrugging, Kol made his next move, blissfully thankful that it wasn't a topic Lilly seemed to want to broach any more than he wished to speak of it. It was easier that way, for them to stay away from things that were a little too personal.

"They were never satisfied with one another," she started from nowhere. "They weren't anything like Lyanna and Nathaniel... They hated one another." As she spoke she didn't look up from the board, perhaps a little embarrassed at the confession.

"... Or at least how I thought Ly and Nathan were..."

So she knew? Kol had wondered how much Lady Lockwood had bothered to divulge to Lilly. Most likely leery of ruining whatever perfect image she may have of her brother.

He could see it then, spreading over her face as familiar as it was in his mind: doubt. What those people felt, or thought they felt. It never seemed to last.

Kol's mind drifted, thinking of things he hadn't considered in centuries: his own family as they were, long before and his parents. It was difficult to have clear, real memories, to try to separate fact from nightmare.

One thing he was sure of, he knew as truth, was the moment he found them. The village was in flames, people running in terror, his siblings feeding like crazed animals. Covered in victims' blood himself, he stumbled back to their home, drunk on death and excitement from others terror only to find his own.

He should have known. Mikael's face, the look he gave her when Niklaus was discovered. It was a desperate mix of acrimony and disgust. Kol should have foreseen it happening.

Mikael stood over his mother, her face pale, eyes open, chest literally ripped in two and her heart, the tissue oozing between his father's fingers before he tossed it aside, like it was refuse and meant nothing at all to him. Then he left without a word, not sparing Kol even a parting glance.

He should have stay and buried her. Kol should have at the very least picked up the discarded organ and place it back out inside her body of respect. But he couldn't. He should have felt something, anything at all, but all he felt was empty.

Long before Rebekah would arrive in tears, and then Niklaus and Elijah would carry her body from their child hood home, Kol bent by his mother, mutilated on the floor, the dogs sniffing at her corpse, licking the wounds, ready to feed. Chasing them off, he paid her the last kindness a son could and closed her eyes.

At the very least, if he did nothing else, even if he was a coward and selfish, he'd shut her eyes from this world and only hope that she found peace in the next.

"He was a good person, Nathaniel..." she finished quietly, her speech disjointed but Kol knew what she meant. Desire, love and eventually hatred, it did strange things to those they infected.

He couldn't remember Niklaus then. Perhaps there was a time before Tatia when he was blithe and Elijah wasn't so cautious, calculated- so sure that any and every move if not perfectly planned and stewarded would end disastrously. What had love done to them? It ruined them for a life full of anything other than restraint and misery.

And Rebekah, caring for anyone other than herself had only ever left her a mess, always searching for something to replace what she thought she once had: always looking for another like her hunter from so long ago.

It seemed a miserable business, racked with nothing but disappointments. Kol never had any intention of being a part of it, in any fashion.

"Kol?"

"Yes?" he looked up at her, smiling at him, whatever sadness or feelings of loss that had been there moments before was gone from her face.

"It's your move..."

Yes, indeed it was. Feeling things, emotions... love, was a miserable business. A game only for a masochist but Kol was part of it, whether he wanted to be or not.

---

Eltham Palace

1492 AD

Lyanna stood amongst the men as they hovered with their brandy, some of them swaying from drink. The courtly entertainers danced, juggled and sang. They went mostly unnoticed as the men glommed together in groups, talking, laughing amongst themselves.

She could feel their eyes on her and hear her name slip in and out of conversation that was anything but polite. She was a social pariah, ostracized as if she had leprosy.

They were doing this on purpose. As the only woman in the room, they were testing her resolve, just as they had with dinner- seeing how far she could be pushed and what she could withstand. If she faltered she'd only hurt her case by disproving that she were a sane woman. That she was not known for bouts of hysterics or rage.

Even if the queen was present, the tension in the room would only have been slightly more bearable. Perhaps if she weren't waiting at Westminster but instead here, they would act differently with a witness (sympathizing or not).

Lyanna may have been a bastard, a widow and just a woman but she refused to cower under the weight of their social pressure. If she broke now, there would be no turning back. Circling around her like wolves in packs, they were looking for the first sign of blood before they descended.

Only an hour more, perhaps and then she could excuse herself, she could leave without appearing rude or ungrateful. So alone she stood, attempting to ignore the sound of her name slipping from dozens of lips, the accusations they were busy levying, vicious gossip they were spreading like a poisoned seed.

She could have attempted to join their conversations, defend herself, but if dinner was any indication, she knew she was outnumbered and out voiced. Anything she said would be turned against her, her every word twisted to conform to their meanings.

When the doors opened at the end of the large hall, she'd assumed it was another group of court performers. Instead, in walked a group of women, more than a dozen. For a moment, Lyanna breathed a sigh of relief: an opportunity for conversation, camaraderie.

"Ladies," a voice called out, greeting the women.

Lyanna didn't dare turn to look for Niklaus. He'd made it perfectly clear at dinner that they were not allies. His aid would most likely only add fuel to their fire. The men snickered, all turning their attention to the women who had lined themselves in the center of the room.

Upon closer inspection, Lyanna realized that these females would not serve as potential company for her. Their dresses cut low, faces heavily painted, hair spilling out over their shoulders, they stood like peacocks on display.

As men stepped forward, leering at the women, Lyanna felt a blush creep over her cheeks and down her neck.

"The last one on the left, she's a good one, no?" a voice behind her asked, as the men sized up each one of the whores, deciding if they would make a purchase.

Did they have no decency? No. As if they hadn't made it plainly clear before, there was no doubting it now, that Lyanna was an interloper in their little world. Such activities may be inappropriate if the queen were in attendance, other ladies of the court. But Lyanna didn't qualify as anyone of importance, worthy of respect. Her status in the eyes of these men was of no higher in elevation then the common whores that were busy prostituting themselves for the highest bidder in the center of the room.

She looked to King Henry who although, none participatory, made no effort to stop the activities, instead engaged in conversation with one of his advisors, as if the women didn't exist.

Swallowing, she tried to avert her gaze as familiar men stepped forward, men she knew, those that had wives, pawing at the girls. As if they were twine dolls to be toyed with, or a horse to be inspected before sale, they pulled at the tops of the gowns, lifting up the dresses, exposing legs, thighs and other private feminine areas. The women all the while stood unfazed as their breasts and bodies were exposed to the room.

Through the entire encounter the women seemed unaffected, plastering fake smiles on their frozen faces. Could these men not see how they were acting? Could they not feel the disgust at such types of violations?

No.

But Lyanna felt it all, shame tenfold, both theirs, which they couldn't express and her own for having to be privy to it all.

Making their final selections, coins passed from buyers' hands into their broker's fist. The girls were led from the line and took up residence in their purchasers' laps or hung from their sides as they were lewdly groped while the men continued their festivities.

Some of the girls were much younger than Lyanna; one couldn't possibly have even been even four and ten. Even through their makeup she could see that they were pale. Some of them thin but trying to hide it under the layers of their gowns. A lurid realization coming over her, that these men were right. She was no better than anyone of these girls. Where would she be if Lord Lockwood's guilt hadn't inspired him to take her in?

Would this have been Lyanna's fate? Lost and wandering in the world? Perhaps she would have been taken into the church? Father Hall would have discovered her earlier. Surely that would have been a better life, but most likely, no. It could have easily been her, standing there, body being groped and gapped at freely, all in the hopes of securing interest only so she could perform whatever indecent acts some man wished and maybe, perhaps, she'd be able to feed herself.

A cold chill ran down her spine. The division was never there between her and those women. She wouldn't be a lady then and wasn't now. They knew. All of them knew, as they touched these poor innocent girls that they were all Lyannas, as she was them.

When they passed, brushing by her on the heels of their men, they didn't make eye contact with her as they had with their buyers. Their gaze averted as they followed in shame, regret, disgust and for many of them, simple indifference.

She hadn't known it but her hands were trembling, her face and neck sanguine. Her heart was beating so rapidly, she felt as if she'd been running. Still she refused to move, relent. Only a while longer and she could excuse herself. When the men left with their girls, retired for the evening, she could then leave and save face.

Looking down, she clenched her hands forcing them behind her back, taking slow steady breaths. These girls weren't her. The men could think of her whatever they wanted; they could say whatever they wished about Lyanna. It didn't make it true; she only hoped the Star Chamber would see it the same way. That justice was indeed blind and that even with the mounting odds against her, they would see the truth. They would know that she was not capable of murder. They would dismiss the idea of a trial.

You'll meet the King's justice soon enough, Arthur had whispered to her at dinner. And from the way they were looking at her then, she no longer doubted his words.

Her mind raced with questions: Why wait for Sabbath to determine if there should be a trial? Why have a trial, if they were convinced of guilt meriting a trial? Would they not also already be convinced that she'd committed the crime?

She should have given Arthur the stone long before. Shrinking into the background, the weight of it all became a little too much to bear. She forced air past the knot in the back of her throat, so uncomfortable, shamed, that she wanted to crawl out of her own skin. Rapidly, she kept trying to swallow but she felt as if she were choking- all of her anxiety and grief collecting, waiting to burst forth. If she couldn't just get rid of that feeling, she'd crack at any moment and be weak and pathetic enough to allow herself to cry.

Sucking air in through her nose, her peripheral vision became hazy with the water that threatened to fall. And then she felt it, cold and gentle pressed against her hand.

He hadn't spoken one word to her all night. He'd left her for the vultures at dinner. Lyanna was sure she could write off every word he'd ever said to her. But when she needed it most, it seemed he always showed; even if under duress.

Standing next to her, they looked they were simply watching everyone, possibly exchanging pleasantries. He was the only man that had bothered to offer her company. And as they looked out over the men gathering like allies to one another, forming one large enemy camp against Lyanna, whores and all- Niklaus stood next to her. Her hand tucked subtly behind the folds of her dress, wrapped inside his.

It wasn't an explanation. It wasn't even an apology. It was a promise that she wasn't alone. That he wouldn't leave her there to fend for herself and that Lyanna wasn't like those women. She was important. She was worthy of being heard and respected. That he respected her and cared for her, even if he wasn't vocal about it.

They'd practically flayed her open at dinner and slowly picked the meat from her bones. He may have not said a word or spared a glance in her direction since the carriage ride but he was well aware of what was going on. And he'd give her credit that she'd lasted as long as she had. Many women would have cracked long before.

She likely thought herself abandoned and in all truth, he'd considered it, more than a few times. If he wanted to destroy Lyanna Lockwood, this was his opportunity. He wouldn't even have to say a word, all Klaus would have to do was let events play out. They were set to compile the evidence, real or not, in a case against her. Inviting her here, making her stay was all part of a little social game- playing with their meal before they devoured her.

He could have just let them kill her, slowly and with little effort. It would have eliminated all of his problems. If there was a trial, which without his intervention there would be, she'd be found guilty. King Henry's and the Star Chamber's justice was swift. Her head would be rolling before the week was out. He could be back at Harte Manor, gathering his doppelganger before the news even reached Scrathclyde.

It could be that simple. If she were Hannah, he would have snapped her neck a month ago. If she were any other human standing in his way, there wouldn't be a question as to what he should do. He should have kept it that simple but it was never going to be so easy with Lyanna.

And that was how he found himself moving from each member of the Star Chamber present, using compulsion when needed. He'd spent the evening with Henry, whispering in his ear, filling his mind with the things Klaus wanted him to think. Arthur may have had the popular opinion but Klaus had the two things that could make this situation disappear: money and the ability to make people believe whatever he told them to believe.

Arthur may have been bold but he was no one's fool. Where before Henry's mind was once clay to be molded and shaped at Klaus's will; now he had vervain in his blood. Klaus could smell it on his breath. Where the rest could be compelled, one by one, he'd pick them off. Henry wouldn't be so easy. He couldn't manipulate his opinion; it would have to be purchased for a heavy sum.

It was no secret that Henry was a man of business and had a taste for opulence, burning through the coffers quicker than they could be replaced by taxes.

He'd spent most of the evening past dinner, avoiding her in truth. He refused to pay her even a moment's attention, even without an audience because he could taste it in the air: her humiliation on display, her isolation. He feared that if he saw it he might feel compelled to do something about it.

And he was right. After the whores had entered the room, the men's attentions diverging from Lyanna, he'd made the mistake of looking for her. What he found was what he'd been trying to avoid. In the corner, skin flushed pink, face stoic, she looked like she might cry at any moment.

It was the most uncomfortable thing he'd ever done. He considered just sparing her a few words, but somehow he found himself grabbing for the hand that shook behind the folds of her skirt. It was human, so disgustingly sensitive, nothing like who he was.

But she needed it and begrudgingly Klaus knew it even then, that if Lyanna as going to drown he would as well. The loose end he'd never allow himself to tie off.

"I'm going to die," she whispered, not looking at him, the realization flooding over her. If she died, Lilly and possibly Katerina would as well- Elspeth not far behind.

"All humans die, Love."

She shook her head, eyes glazing over, "You're right. How stupid I was to think I would be the exception?"

Lyanna could sense it then, like the ending of every other fairytale she'd held onto in life. Her life, those she loved, herself, nothing that involved Lyanna would ever be the exception. She would always be the rule. You toy with power, when you are not powerful and there will be consequences.

He squeezed her hand, this time looking at her when he replied, "You'll always be the exception, Lyanna."

Then without another word, he left, making his way towards the girls.

Lyanna tried not to pay attention or care as she watched him whisper into the ear of the man that brought the women. Nodding his head, an understanding seemed to pass between then both as he purchased a woman from the line.

With dark hair, dark eyes, her lovely olive skin seemed to glow over her exposed breast. She was beyond lovely. She looked to be something that would have inspired the Greeks to sing a tale, launch their ships. Lyanna didn't know what was worse; the fact that he was unashamedly buying her, with full intentions of making good on his purchase or the fact that she cared.

She wished he would have stayed away. He should have left her there to suffer because somehow that would have kinder than doing what he just did, saying those words only to be followed up with such contrary actions.

She suffered through perhaps another half hour, staring at her feet, promising herself that she wouldn't cry before she was excused ever so politely by Henry.

Quickly exiting the great room, she practically ran down the corridors past the buttery and kitchens. She didn't care that those servants that littered the halls looked at her strangely as she briskly passed. If she didn't hurry, get to her rooms in minutes; she might allow herself to stop caring and cry right there in the middle of those dimly lit halls.

She could hear their voices in the distance. Men that were exiting the palace grounds, taking their purchases back to where they would stay. Those that were housed within Eltham guided the girls back to their rooms. The more she could make out their echoes the faster she moved, not even caring where she was going. She just needed to be gone.

Turning a corner down an unfamiliar hallway, she stopped when she saw him. Standing there like he'd been waiting for her all along, knew she would be there, right at that moment, Niklaus only nodded as she continued in his direction.

When she passed him, she could hear him start after her, without a word. He wasn't chasing, simply following. Perhaps because he knew she was lost or because he couldn't help himself.

As Lyanna continued down the dark hall, looking at closed doors, hoping at any moment to see something familiar, all she could think was, Doesn't he have somewhere else to be? Where is the girl? Why is he following me! Can I not have a moment of peace!

She could take it no longer, the sound of his footsteps intentionally making soft noises on the stone floors. If he wished to silent, to stalk her without a sound, he could have easily done it. But instead he chose to consciously make sure that she knew he was there. Why?

When she could take it no more, Lyanna whirled around, stopping. Calmly he stepped closer until they were a foot apart. Not demanding anything or even looking for conversation, he nodded his head as if they should continue on their journey.

Reluctantly, Lyanna obliged. The sooner she found her rooms, the sooner she could be alone. Walking side by side for seconds, in silence, she finally asked, "Do you want me dead?"

Niklaus kept his eyes straight ahead, following the impossibly long hall, he replied, "Your problem will be dealt with, Lyanna."

For a second she felt a small rush of relief wash over her, which was quickly clouded with suspicion.

"That's not what I asked." If she was going to die, there was nothing he could do about it. And if there was she waivered in belief on which side he'd throw his influence. In the end, she wasn't naïve. Whatever happened between them up until that point could easily be forgotten by him, if doing so better suited his interests. Whatever his end game may be, Lyanna didn't know. But she was sure, that Niklaus wasn't going to allow her or anyone else to interfere.

"You will not, so what difference does it make?"

"A world…" she replied. Stopping in their journey, she reached out, hand making contact with his houppelande, compelling him to look at her.

"Do You want me dead?" So many meanings packed into the answer of one question. Of course he wanted her dead. Everything about Lyanna was set to foil every plan he'd ever had. She was turpentine to his resolve. Every thought and feeling (save him, he was having feelings) he had of her, spelled disaster in every known language.

Yes, he wanted her dead, but needed her alive for his own sanity, "No."

"Why are you really here?"

"For you," he answered honestly, as if she compelled it out of him.

"Do you care about me?"

He was idiot, "Yes."

Lyanna swallowed a shallow breath. She'd known it all along, but had needed to hear it from him. What did that mean? What about the girl? What about all of it? Why were things always so complicated between them?

"How would you like me to respond to that?"

"Makes no difference."

She hesitated, but finally acted on instinct, leaning forward to kiss him, eyes closed, she was close enough to feel her breath reflecting off his skin when he interrupted, "Stop."

He pulled his head away, pausing for a moment before he continued walking.

Opening her eyes, perched awkwardly forward, left like that. Her face flushed, "I don't understand," she called after him.

"You wouldn't," he snapped disgusted.

There wasn't even time for Lyanna to sort out what to say next, embarrassed by his abrupt dismissal.

Stopping again, when he realized she wasn't following he answered, "Do you mind?" as if he had somewhere he had to be or rather perhaps someone that was waiting for him.

"You do not need to wait for me. I will find my way back."

"As you were before? These halls are not safe Lyanna."

Suddenly he cared so much for her safety? Where was he the entire evening? Where was Niklaus when there was a war raging at dinner?

He'd kissed her. It was him that sought her out. He had touched her in the abbey, came for her every time she needed aid. Niklaus had the most convoluted, absurd way of showing her that he cared.

He took her hand and the way he looked at her. What right did he have to be dismissive now?

"Lyanna, please..." the way he said it, so sincere, that is what prompted her oblige. But not before she questioned, "Do you not have someone waiting for you?"

Surely he knew what she meant, but as they paced, moving in lock step, his expression never wavered, as if he hadn't heard her at all until he answered, "No. You already found me."

Finally turning another corner, she recognized her surroundings.

"You are right down there if I am not mistaken?" He pointed maybe 100 yards away.

"Yes... Niklaus?" she didn't know what she meant to say. But she wasn't given the opportunity.

Apparently in front of his own rooms, hand on the knob, he answered, "Good night, Lyanna," closing the conversation between them.

As she walked the rest of the way by herself, she could feel his eyes on her, watching her the entire time. But when she reached her rooms, turning in his direction before entering, he was gone.

---

Scrathclye

1492 AD

After the evening meal, Elijah chose to retire to his rooms, not particularly in the mood to serve as Katerina's entertainment that evening. It seemed however that Katerina had other plans.

He could hear her behind him before he even needed to turn. Stopping in the middle of the secluded hall, he waited for the words, cruel in their sweetness to float by him, "Elijah…"

Staring down the long corridor, he could feel her creep up behind him, waiting for moments before her hand reached out, tracing his shoulder, sliding down his arm. This was the Katerina he knew. This was the one he'd known from those first moments alone together at Harte Manor: what she was really like, under all of her silly games, musings on love and affection from admirers.

She wasn't a lamb and she wasn't the lion. She was the serpent that slithered through the grass, graceful in its movements, seemingly benign, but its bite was more malignant than the lion's jaws. It was her species that had led to the fall of mankind, the banishment into Nod. It was the knowledge of something forbidden but the promise that lay beneath, under layers of superficiality that drew him in beyond his own volition.

Brown eyes, soft hair, perfumed skin. The doppelganger was the most deadly of all species, crafted from his mother with perfect accuracy. Her hand left his arm, wrapping around, trailing over his abdomen. She knew what she was doing.

When she pressed close enough to his back that he could feel the heat pouring off her body, he was reminded why he'd poignantly went back to his rooms promptly after dinner. He wouldn't allow himself to be trapped like this. He'd faltered once, he wouldn't again.

Turning to face her, he sighed, "How is it that I can be of assistance to you, Katerina?"

The sigh, it was more foretelling than any words he could have said. She'd intended to come to him as she would any man: provocative, feigning just the right amount of innocence. Perhaps she'd tilt her head just so, stand a little too close. The sigh and his sudden rejection threw everything off. That was the problem with Elijah, his temperament was completely unpredictable. One second he was feeding from her hand and the next treating her as if she were some type of pestilence.

She had to reconfigure her strategy.

"I only wish to seek your company..."

Slowly turning, he answered, "I apologize, Katerina. I am tired this evening and not in the mood."

It was the way he said mood, quite denoting of some type of sexual encounter, both that he expected it and perhaps would never be in the mood. Either was a little too insulting for Katerina's taste.

Usually in this situation she would play a different card, perhaps suggest that she would seek the company of another man instead. But she worried that when used with Elijah, such a threat would only be met with indifference.

"Aren't you bold? You speak to me as if you thought I would willingly offer you something more than just my company," Katerina snapped.

It was small but distinct, a slight falter in Elijah's facial expression. His ever present polite mannerisms pushed to the forefront past his infuriating indifference.

"I assure you I meant nothing of the sort," he replied ever so courteously.

"Did you not? Is that not what you think of me, something so easy to obtain?" She may have been attempting to play on his guilt but it didn't mean that she wasn't sincere about what she'd said.

Katerina was not the type of be toyed with- rather it was her that chose, whom, where and how long it would last.

"I do not think of you that way Katerina, I assure you. However, I am tired."

She intended at first to only let a glimpse of vulnerability to peak through, but before she even knew it, the words were tumbling from her mouth, "I'm not as silly as you think I am…."

"And why would think that Katerina?"

"I can tell by the way you look at me. I know more than you think I do and just because I smile doesn't mean I'm a fool."

This was new side to her that he'd never experienced. The innocent girl, the seducer, both he'd seen in spades but this new version was raw- much more real than the other two.

"I never thought you were."

"Didn't you….?"

"What do you wish from me, Katerina?"

Something completely unobtainable- it would never be hers but it didn't mean that she wanted it any less.

"What will you give me?" From any other person it would have sounded desperate but from her there was something lurid in its context, not just sexual but something else that held a differ kind of promise.

Nothing… he wished to answer because he had nothing to give.

Elijah looked at her and all he saw was Tatia. Some ghosts were better left buried. How many times could a person torture themselves over the same thing?

"… perhaps that is telling, in itself," she replied his silence. He may have saw Tatia but he wasn't alone. When she looked him, Katerina saw every mistake she had made in her short existence. He was another man trying to walk away from her. Only Katerina wasn't foolish enough to allow herself to be left.

Mayhaps that was every person's fate, attempting to right wrongs created so long ago.

It was strange the way she went about it. He usual fluid behavior, charms not in use. It was as if he were experiencing a different woman. Looking at him quite seriously, she nodded her head, before leaning in and pressing her lips to his.

There was nothing flirtatious about it, her usual erotic flare gone. She was neither a whore nor a saint in that moment. All mental comparisons he had before, bouncing her back and forth between his perceptions of Lyanna and Tatia, vanished. She was simply Kat as complicated and recondite as she had ever been.

When she pulled away, looking up at him curiously, "Goodnight Elijah," the hint, onus. She was real in that moment, the mask past slipping and now completely gone.

As she walked away towards her own room, she shamed herself for acting so pathetically, allowing herself to be thrown off guard so easily. And as he watched her go, Elijah didn't think about the kiss or the promises she'd given so many times before of something more. He thought of Kat, as simple and complicated as she could be in just a few unplanned, natural gestures.

For a few moments, he forgot Lyanna's letter and the mistakes he had made and the things he wished he could change, standing in wonderment of the strange calamity that was Katerina Petrova and her deadly bite.

---

Eltham Palace

1492 AD

She had been lying awake in bed for close to two hours, staring at the ceiling of her room. Hundreds of thoughts ran through her mind: Katerina, Lilly, home, Elijah, the wolves, Star Chambers, King Henry, Nathaniel and Niklaus…. Most of those two hours had been spent thinking about Niklaus.

By the time she was standing in a dimly lit hall, in her shift outside his room, she knew it was too late to back down now. She had to do it. If she didn't, she'd always wonder what could have been.

Knocking, she heard him abruptly call out for her to come in.

She had expected to find him up, still dressed. Instead, he was surprisingly sitting up in bed, shirtless, papers scattered out in front of him. Charcoal in hand.

Shutting the door behind her, she leaned against it, trying to focus on his face and not on other places. She wanted to get this out before she got flustered or distracted.

"Am I interrupting you?"

He didn't even look up from his work, seemingly not surprised at all that she was there. What Lyanna didn't know was that he could hear her feet pattering down the halls. He'd listened to her heart racing, hand resting on the door, before she had even knocked.

Niklaus may have had a dozen different things running through his mind, but to Lyanna, he looked like he didn't have a care in the world.

"And if I said you were, would you leave?" Whatever she had come there for, couldn't be good. If it was to lecture him, he didn't need it. If she'd shown up at his door, in her chemise, hair unbraided, hoping to get another careless reaction from him, like she had so many times before, he wouldn't allow it.

He didn't have time for these games that they were playing with one another. He didn't have room for the kinds of emotions she seemed to want to evoke. If he relented for a moment with her, it would snow ball, as it always did. And before he'd know it, he'd be telling her things that he hadn't told anyone before, other than Elijah. He'd be making confessions of thoughts and feelings he wasn't even aware he was hiding.

"No…" she answered calmly.

She never could make it easy for him.

"Then do not leave me in suspense… or better yet, do not waste my time. What is it that you want?" he snapped, black fingers tracing and retracing the lines of his drawing.

She'd had an entire speech prepared, but somehow the words seemed to disconnect from one another, swirling around in her mind, trying to reform in odd nonsensical sentences.

"You worry me sometimes."

She missed it, but if she had been watching close enough she would have noticed him falter, his line diverging from its intended path. Frustrated, he continued on, rubbing at the mistake, forming it into a shadow instead, evenly replying, "Is that so?"

Good, she should be scared. She should run from him as fast as she could. Not that it mattered. Lyanna could run to the edge of world and he'd find her if he wished.

"I am not blind Niklaus… you can be cruel, you have a hatred about you that you keep so near- closer than your own skin. It's an indifference that you seem to have crafted so well over the years."

"Is that so?" She was right. Every single word she said was true. But if she knew that, then why the hell was she here? Perhaps she was a greater fool than he thought, "And let me guess, you think you can cure this?"

"No, I am not so foolish as to try."

"Am I not worth the effort?" he mocked, his tone lined with a kind of sadness he couldn't hide. He felt exposed; every moment with Lyanna was like drowning, coming up for air to find relief, only to shoved back under.

He may have told her that he cared, but she remembered a time when someone else had made similar promises and where had that gotten her? They'd snap at each other like rabbid dogs, both terrified of repeating old mistakes.

"I am someone today to you, but will I be tomorrow? I am not a wide eyed, naïve girl anymore. I know things now that can't be unlearned."

Finally he looked up from his drawing, conceding, "And what is that?"

"Men break what is not theirs too easily and without thought. They ask for trust, implicitly then betray it without apology. They take what they want and when they are done they do not care for the ruin they leave behind."

"You fear I will break you?" There it was: the edge of malignity, creeping into his voice. Cruelty bred from fear and knowledge of a loss that was to come.

"No, I fear I could be foolish enough to someday let you try."

He didn't have an answer for her accusations because they were all true. She was right; he had planned to break her, but hadn't she planned to do the same to him? Did that not in some ways even their score? Neither could claim to be the real victim, only two persons of separate parties, of separate interests and a common weakness.

Leaving her place against the door she walked towards the bed, "I want to show you something…."

Niklaus smirked, irritation lingering from their earlier encounter, "I've lived five hundred years Lyanna. Whatever it is that you think you have to show me that will be novel, I assure you it will not be."

At the foot of the bed, she paused briefly before taking a deep breath and pressing on. Unapologetically, she lifted her shift, exposing her ankles before she climbed on the bed. This could either be the best thing she'd ever done for herself, or the biggest error in judgment she'd ever made.

A little confused Niklaus watched as she reached into his lap removing the sketches he'd been working on, setting them to the side. Rising to her knees, she boldly, without thought crawled into his lap as if it were the most natural thing between them, seating herself on his upper thighs, before continuing, "I may not have ever been to Rome, Paris, seen the things you have. Done the things you have," she paused gaining more courage, before she finished,

"Had dozens of lovers..."

Thousands, he thought. And for some reason immediately felt uncomfortable, listening to that revelation come from Lyanna's mouth.

She reached out, tentatively at first, before her fingers made contact, brushing over his face, "But I've known love. Seen it... given it."

"And you think I have not?" he answered, his tone somewhat reserved, not nearly as biting.

"No," she replied boldly, honestly.

He didn't respond, swallowing, almost afraid of what she'd say next.

"I'd like to show you..." her voice soft, warm. The way she looked at him made him instantly wish he'd never allowed her in. Every natural instinct for survival that he, had screamed for Niklaus to throw her off of him, tell her she was a fool- plainly, for him to get as far away as fast as possible.

But as she leaned in and kissed him, he held completely still. Preparing himself for the poison he wasn't aware that was ready to set in. Centuries later, with all the distance and time in the world to reflect and see things clearly, he'd realize that of all the moments that he had with her, this was perhaps the defining one, which had sealed his road to hell.

A road bathed in light and littered in lies- his lies.

Scooting closer, there was no longer room between them as she pressed herself into him. Her tongue slipped between his lips, coaxing him out of his nano-stupor. Responding on instinct, he immediately attempted to take over, reaching for her more aggressively, attacking rather than following.

Pulling back, she stalled him in his efforts, silently like she always had, correcting him. Niklaus's first instinct was to lash out. Make some biting remark, something spiteful to defer from his mild embarrassment at her disapproval.

Five hundred years, Love. I do not need you to show me how to fuck, he wished to snap.

But was stopped from uttering a word when she tried again, leaning forward, only this time her knees pressed into his hands to the bed, poignantly holding him there. Instead of kissing him, she hovered, fingers tracing his face and changing expression. It was like she was studying him, appreciating him, making a memory with her outlines as they watched one another.

When she kissed him again it was slow at first, a conversation between them- a give and take. It was calm, not like their usual rushed and hasty encounters. Niklaus closed his eyes: lemon and rose water, soft hands and warm lips. Her tongue traced him, thumb pressing into his jaw, she nipped at his bottom lip waiting for him to submit, allow her in. And like a fool, he did, Lyanna's tongue sliding inside meeting his.

Her fingers sliding under his tunic up his abdomen and gently pulled him closer. It was a strange juxtaposition, so different from what they had shared in the abbey. Where before it'd been rushed, harsh and bitter in its disconnect this time it was personal… very personal.

She rocked against him at a steady, even pace. It was less of a tease and more like natural progression, acting on instinct, exploration. Lips left his, sliding down his jaw, her breath hot against his neck.

It may have been the least sexual thing in blunt nature, he'd experienced in the centuries. All of his encounters with humans had been quick, heated and to the point. But it was superior in erotic nature to every lascivious encounter he'd had before: sexual acts in public, in multiples, with forbidden female partners.

It was the way she touched him, intimate, careful, purposeful. Niklaus didn't demand it, take it, manipulate that kind of adulation or run from it in disgust. He was left to absorb it.

Reaching for the bottom of her chemise she tugged at the hem, drawing it up over her legs and hips. As it moved up her torso, he stopped her. It was a terrible time to ask. But he never said the right things to Lyanna and their timing was always off. Whatever rational part of him was left, scratched away at the back of his mind. Ines's warning.

"Why?" Why after everything had she changed her mind? He knew he hadn't managed to manipulate her because Lyanna was always too quick for him, always a little too aware of his intentions. She hated him. He was sure of it. And now she came to him, like this? He was always suspicious of something this rewarding, someone being this genuine, this kind, wary of the idea of someone possibly caring about him for unselfish reasons.

She drew the shift over her shoulders, allowing it to drop to the ground beside the bed. He looked at her for a few moments before their eyes met again. If she'd come this far, there was no point in holding back now.

"I get this terrible feeling when I'm around you but it's even worse when you leave," she reached out and touched his face again, her thumb tracing his cheek. "I was wrong when I told you that you aren't capable of caring." As soon as the words left her mouth, the skin of her face and neck flushed pink.

"I want you to care…."

Like he'd earned his reward, proven himself ready, she lifted her knees, freeing his hands, "I want you to touch me…." Instead of instantly reaching for her, rushed, desperate to be satiated, he waited a few moments.

Perhaps he should have said something in return. He should have confirmed her suspicions. Instead he waited, counted her slow uneven breaths before he took her hand from his cheek, uncharacteristically kissing the palm, returning it to her lap before reaching for her, pulling her in, kissing her like he should have every other time. He should have been more sincere before, less hasty. He should have kissed her in the abbey, soft and purposeful. He should have kissed her that morning as they stood in the deserted village.

He should have kissed her in the carriage, when she told him of all the things she wished to do in her life. Niklaus should have kissed her the night that she burned the garden and he watched ash fall into her hair- knowing long before Ines had breathed a word of her mystery that he was connected to Lyanna. Niklaus would always be connected to Lyanna and it had nothing to do with his mother's curse, Hannah, Anne or any of it. It had everything to do with her, who she was and would always be to Niklaus, the only time he'd felt loved even when he knew he didn't deserve it.

He should have told her then how sure he was that she was right. He did care and was afraid at the same time that the curse had worked. She'd surely destroy him and everything he knew about himself. Lyanna would ruin him love.

His hands dropped to her breasts, fingers tracing the outline, appreciative as she had been moments before. Watching her and she watched him. Her expression changing, breath catching, evening out, then catching again as he brushed over her nipples.

The air between them grew heady, the scent of her hair, skin and burning wax filling the air. On instinct he reached down rubbing her thighs, trailing up the insides, feeling her skin prickle under his cold touch.

She looked at him in a way that made him afraid to break eye contact. What if this was dream? If he looked away, it would disappear and he'd wake in sweat once again.

Her tongue passed over her bottom lip, as he pushed a finger inside her, her hips moving against him, pulling him closer. Lifting herself slightly, she tugged at the sheet, drawing it from his waist. Obliging as it crumpled at his feet, his hand found her side, waiting to direct her down into the bed.

"No," she answered, softly. She moved her hips over him, taking him into her hand and then guiding him into her. They watched each other cautiously, knowingly. There was no turning back after this. No more games. She'd made it too personal now to try to deny it all later.

Slowly she allowed him to enter her. Face to face, hands steadied on his shoulders, his on her hips. At first contact, he could tell she was uncomfortable, her jaw and body clenching in symphony. Too long since her last contact, muscles forgetting what hormones didn't.

Where she was adjusting Niklaus was ready, flooded with lust, too long waiting, not only for the sex but for the moment with Lyanna: recognition, reciprocation, the validation he'd finally get. He'd never been one to be patient or kind with the women had sexual encounters with.

Taking his hands, she folded them on the small of her back poignantly directing as her knees tightening around his thighs.

"Lyanna…" he swallowed, excited, nervous to be truthful. On some level he was aware that he'd entered into something that he'd never be able to extract himself from cleanly.

"Let me show you what love is Niklaus…" she whispered, kissing him, like she knew that maybe he'd never known it, not as she'd give him. That of all the things he needed, the things that he had sought, it perhaps was the one thing he was more desperate for than power, more afraid of than failure and completely unaware of: To give without fear, to care without shame, to feel without remorse.

As she started to move, controlling their pace, hips rising over his, lips on his face, neck, pulling back and making eye contact, acknowledging that he was significant. That he was wanted. That she wanted him and cared for him. Niklaus felt a slow terrible pain spread through him. It was sharp in its warning and sweet in its promise.

Never before had he felt more wanted and appreciated- all things that would be agonizing, maddening when they were gone.

His hand slipped from her back, touching her breast, rolling her nipples between his thumb and forefinger, amazed at her every reaction, every facial expression. They were all things he'd seen before on the faces of thousands of women but this time it felt different, new, novel again.

As their pace quickened, his hand found her hip and pressed her closer, his other moving between their bodies rubbing slow small circles, listening to the shortness of her breaths, experiencing everything through Lyanna's reactions- guiding him, instructing him how to continue. She rubbed herself fast and hard against his hand, pulling his head back so he'd look at her.

Lyanna's eyes snapped closed as he tilted his hips, overwhelmed she confessed, "I think about the abbey… you…" she opened her eyes, looking down at him, "This… all the time," she leaned in, their lips catching, then releasing with the first rise and fall, only for him to still her hips, stopping for a moment as to kiss her properly- how she deserved to be kissed, before they continued again. Her face pressed against his neck. Tight, close and loved.

Uncontrollably, his fangs extended, brushing against her shoulder, considering whether or not to follow instinct. As if she understood what he wanted, "Niklaus," she pulled his head back.

"No," she answered gently kissing him. Lyanna might be willing to give him this, allow him a piece of her and show him love in return, but she wasn't willing to be preyed on, no matter how much it suited his instincts. Boundaries… there would always be boundaries with her.

Quick, short, fevered kisses were shared as she tightened around him, forehead falling against his, sweat trickling down between her breasts, hand kneading into his shoulder blades as she finished, followed shortly after by him.

Tangled around one another, he could feel her limbs begin to relax, head resting on his shoulder. Leaning back into the bedding, he closed his eyes feeling her heart pounding in her chest, unaware for seconds if it was his or hers.

Usually at a moment like this, he'd usually lift his partner off of him, detaching himself as soon as possible. But it felt wrong, harsh and even uncomfortable to do that now. Certainly at some point they'd have to move. They couldn't spend the evening this way. Eventually Lyanna would have to return to her own room.

But soon wasn't then. Tugging at the sheet below, he pulled it up and over them. Not even trying to convince Lyanna to move or change positions. With her full weight laying against him in exhaustion, he brushed her tangled damp hair to the side, kissing her neck and shoulder before replacing his hands on her back, pulling her even closer if it was possible.

The heat, he loved the heat that radiated off her body, so comforting and natural.

Where could they go from here?

For the first time in maybe centuries he felt at peace, satiated, demons quieted for moments. But it wouldn't last, he just knew it. Nothing good ever lasted.

Like Adam was to Eve, it may have been meant to be, but Ines was right, this fine of a wine could only come from their poisoned vine.

---

Scrathclyde

1492 AD

To Kol's chagrin Elspeth was more than just an unsavory eavesdropper; she also doubled as a chastity guard. When it came time for her to retire, she made a point to lead Lilly to her rooms and then come back for Kol.

"Really, I assure you I can find my way to my rooms."

The old woman muttered something in Gaelic that not even his trained ear could make out.

"I apologize, I couldn't make hear you," he called to her, feet in front of him as she led him with a single candle down the dark hall.

"It is not your rooms I worry about..." she responded quite briskly.

"Why whatever do you mean?" Kol toyed with her.

Elspeth immediately stopped, whirling around. "I know what you are and what you plan on doing."

"Is that so? And what am I?"

She scowled, pointing to her teeth indicating fangs, as if the old woman wouldn't even dignify what he was with a word.

"You stay away from Lady Lockwood. She is a good girl and will wed an appropriate man."

Kol felt like snickering that he had absolutely no intentions of wedding Lilly so truly there was no need to block that action. But he rather didn't think that taking the time to explain to Lilly how her nurse maid died from the shock of being scandalized seemed nearly as appealing as the activity he had planned for later that evening.

However, he wasn't gracious enough to spare her his typical lewd smirk, prompting her wrinkled finger to jab itself into his chest.

"I know what things like you think about. I will have you know that I have posted someone outside Lady Lockwood's door in case you get any ideas about trying to visit her later."

The smirk that was there moments before sagged a little. This old hag really was out to make his existence difficult while he stayed on the premises.

Turning without another word, she walked ten more steps before stopping in front of his door.

"Good night, Lord Mikaelson," the words dripped like a curse from her mouth. He nodded, watching her disappear down the corridor, waiting until he could hear her footsteps no longer before he set out towards Lilly's rooms. Although he had no real notion where they were in the great house, he was easily able to find them by tracking her scent. And true to the old woman's words, there was a man sitting outside the door, hands folded in his lap, chin tucked to his chest. Kol stepped forward preparing himself to compel the poor fool before he could smell it on his sleeping breath: Vervain.

After minutes of haggling with the man on a fair price for his "lapse in memory" Kol deposited a few gold coins in his fist, waiting until he was almost out of sight before slipping inside the room.

On her side, her eyes popped open as soon as he took his first step.

"What are you doing here?"

Pulling his bed shirt over his head, he moved to toss it to the ground, when he could feel a hand pressed against his chest.

"You can't stay here Kol."

Perched on her knees in bed, her chemise had partially slid from her shoulder; hair now unbraided and mused from sleep. All it would take was one well-placed tug and the cotton would slip from her torso all together.

Reaching for it, he answered, "No worries, your guard will be taking an extended leave..."

His cool hand was quickly slapped away, coupled with Lilly's scolding, "Kol, I meant what I said. You cannot be here."

Well this was an interesting change of events. Standing there, awkwardly naked in front of her, he tried to find the most appropriate position in standing, to best show off his assets, as to clear up her obvious confusion.

Instead of desire his efforts were met with a hardy laugh, "Really Kol, please," she shook her head moving from the bed to retrieve his bed shirt from the floor.

Was he dreaming? Was this the same woman that practically came undone from a simple touch days before? Perhaps it was the coitus, uncomfortable the first time, she most likely worried it would feel the same every time.

"Lilly I understand that before, it was..." the word escaped him; this was the type of conversation that was meant for sensitive men that had a delicate way with words and women. Kol was unfortunately neither. However, if he wished to find Lilly under (or above- now wasn't that an interesting thought (?)) him anytime soon, he would have to muddle his way through.

"Unpleasant," he continued, "But at first," (if he could remember correctly from his other virgin encounters) "it is always that way for," he stopped, swallowing the word, his eyes beginning to roll from the sensitivity of it all, before he stopped himself with the image of Lilly naked again, "Your..." he nodded in her direction.

"Women?" she offered, somewhat amused at his obvious discomfort.

"Yes, but I promise it does improve..." he flashed her, a smug grin, "Remarkably so, or so I've been told."

Shaking her head while she approached, as if she had eaten up every word of his bumbling speech, she pandered, "Is that so?" stopping in front of him, he could feel the heat coming off her body; stimulate his in a pleasant way.

"Yes," he eagerly encouraged.

She leaned in closer, her lips less than inches from his. If he took his eyes off of hers for a mere second he was sure he'd be able to see straight down the neck of her chemise, getting a good view of those breasts he'd praised so much with words and other verbal attributes.

"I'll keep that in mind for the future," she answered, her breath hot on his mouth. He leaned forward to greedily kiss her only to find a wadded heap of cotton shoved into his abdomen and Lilly headed in the direction of the door.

"You may wish to put that on before you return to your rooms. Elspeth has been known to walk the corridors at night. The sight of you might frighten her to death."

At least someone would be appreciative, Kol thought to himself, rather displeased by her lack lustre response.

"Have I missed something here?" he questioned, drawing the cloth back over his body.

She stopped at the door, turning around to face him.

"Is this about-"

"No," she answered quickly. "I'm sure that the next time, that it will be... it was lovely the first time, Kol."

Women: human, werewolf, vampire, witch or fairy, they were always so horridly bewildering. His hand passed over his over his face, running through hair in frustrated confusion, "Than what exactly is the issue, Lil?"

Her fingers toyed with the ends of her long curly hair, as she seemed a little hesitant to say what she had on her mind.

"Lilly...?"

"It's only..." she drew her hands up motioning around the room, "This is my father's home, my brother's... I- it isn't right..."

Kol realized suddenly exactly what she meant. Their conversation earlier about her family, this was her childhood home. Undoubtedly her nurse maid raised her to believe that a Lady such as herself would stay chaste until she was wed to a proper Lord. Anything but, would be an insult against her father, then her brother and now their memory.

"I know it seems ridiculous to you and I don't expect you to understand. But I just can't."

He knew, she meant more that she would not. She most certainly did not wish to blatantly dishonor the wishes of the men that had been in her life before, and she most definitely did not wish to stain her childhood bed (so to speak) in her father's home, where she'd likely laid awake many nights fantasizing about her future husband and all the pretty things she'd been told as a child- all the things Kol would never be.

A strange feeling crept over Kol, something he hadn't encountered in such a long while that he almost didn't recognize the twinge: remorse. He forgot at times how briefly removed Lilly was from her human existence. And perhaps it wasn't just that.

He suddenly felt as if it were Rebekah looking back at him, reflecting each time she'd let her heart break over something, the disappointment of what wouldn't be. Lilly in that moment was no different from his sister. She was just a woman, standing in front of a completely unworthy man, wishing for more.

And for the first time in his life, for that brief moment he wanted to be that more- whatever it was.

It was his move; it had been for a while. The only problem was that Kol didn't know the rules to this game but clearly understood the punishment for loss.

Forget the rules, since when had Kol ever been one to heed caution? Swallowing, as if he were some common human male, easily intimidated by the fairer sex, he hesitated for less than a second before he acted on anything but his natural instinct.

Normally, if this were any other female, no matter the species, Kol would have compelled his way into their bed or been out the door before their first words were uttered. His instinct told him to be crass and explain to Lilly that if she were harboring the belief that not rutting under her family's roof still somehow meant that she was pure, then she was delusional. Part of him considered reminding her that if she believed that this new moral dictate would prompt him into committing to her in a more permanent- human way, then she was clearly trying to manipulate the wrong man.

But a very small section of Kol's conscience, the part he all but abandoned for the past five hundred years, pleaded with him to bypass the first two natural responses and instead go with, "Okay..."

"Okay?" she looked at him suspiciously, as if she were preparing herself to respond to one of the first two instead.

"Yes, okay..." It may have been a risky move- not in its boldness or act of dominance but more from his lack of aggression and overall compliance. It was completely out of character for him, but it seemed as of late, when it came to Lilly, Kol's steady and true characteristics, were in flux.

"I... I understand." One word, how could one small concession feel like a shift in a person's entire being?

"You do?" Lilly's eyes went wide with surprise and then quickly admiration and finally love. They were all the things that made Kol's lapse in defences worth every second.

"Yes," he nodded. A smile broke out over Lilly's face, prompting Kol to make another lapse in character when he promised, "I will not touch you in any way that is less than cordial as long as I am under this roof."

It wasn't a promise of the future, it wasn't a declaration of love but instead something else that meant just as much to Lilly in that moment. As he made his path to the door, Lilly took his hand, tugging him down for the good night kiss she couldn't give under Elspeth's watchful gaze.

As her tongue traced his bottom lip, Kol considered taking back every word he'd just said until her mouth had left his and her hand had pressed the door open, displaying the dark hallway.

"Good evening, Kol."

She had scooted him out into the hall and given him one last lingering look before Kol found himself taking in the view of the granular pattern of the door to her room rather than the other sight he'd imagined not a half hour before.

As Kol slinked back to his own rooms and a cold bed, he found himself wishing that he would have asked for a parting gift before he began his promise.

It seemed being More, was considerably more difficult than he'd originally thought.

---

1492 AD

Somewhere Between Space and Time

Night came in a whisper, stretching smoothly out over the land. There was no sound that punctured the air; it was as though even the dullest of creatures had the good sense to claim silence. There was only a weak wind that moved between the trees and over the grass like a sigh. It brushed against walls and sank into the cracks of stone, the splinters in the wood. Like the bitter breath of a curse, the hollow wind poured into windows and into beds, turning dreams sour with the truth of the world. Creeping into Ines's ear it spoke, each sigh forming the syllables of her name pulling her from the troubled visions of her sleeping mind.

She was calling. And Ines could not deny Her.

She crawled from her bed, rising slowly from its warmth into the sighing air. She shivered though not from the cold. There was something far worse than a cold breeze lurking in the darkness and Ines was obliged to meet it. Soundlessly, Ines left her bed and stood for a moment neither moving forward or back to her bed. She spared herself a quiet moment to prepare for what was to come. Then the moment passed and Ines rushed into the night.

Through the forest her feet took her. Each moment another sigh fell over the land.

I-

The disjointed voice crooned to her, guiding Ines in the dark.

-nes

And though this was not her first time and surely not her last, Ines could not stop the erratic beating of her heart as she rushed after the sighing wind. Gathering her hands to her chest she pressed down on the curve of her sternum as if to smother the sound of her fear.

Ines

The wind sighed again, pulling her onward like a marionette on a string. Feet crackled over leaves and twigs beating at the silence. Suddenly the air was thick with sound echoing in her ear, the pounding of her blood, the crinkle of her foot prints over the ground, then the sigh.

Ines

It seemed louder now, perhaps even demanding. At the center of her chest, the brisk murmur of her beating heart replied, "I know, I know." Further still into the forest, into the dark, Ines slipped past trees, over rocks, and through the underbrush. Never once did she even consider stopping to catch her breath or to soothe her aching feet. There was no time to spare. There was no room for disappointment.

Ines, Ines, In-

Then nothing. No wind. No crinkle of the forest below or sway of the branches above. To step through a wrinkle was a strange thing. The world contorted or perhaps the person did but either way the feeling was that of a camel being pulled through the eye of a needle. For a second and an eternity Ines was stretched so very thin and pulled through and through. There was no Ines for a split second. There was no sight or sound, no taste or smell, only that sensation of pulling and pulling from the center.

Her senses returned all at once, tripping over one another, falling into the wrong places then hopping back and forth. When then had finally realigned, Ines felt in her belly a queer feeling settle like a disease. A window to her right showed rain bleeding over stained glass but the light played tricks and the water seemed to bleed the wrong way. Ines could hear the sound of it inching upward, screeching on the glass.

"You disappoint me, Ines," came a voice; the sound of it was like a thin steel wire cutting down through the air.

It was a woman who spoke. Before Ines was she was seated in a chair that seemed more like a throne. Behind her was a fireplace; a blaze that was more like the mouth of hell. The chair was of dark wood as though all of the evil and goodness in the world had been reduced into one color and painted upon that throne. It was delicately decorated with images of war and death but of life and peace as well. In the wood there were monkeys turning to men and devils kissing feathered ladies and if Ines stared too long and looked too hard she could have sworn they moved. All the pictures acting out the plot of their tragedies and victories, they were forever doomed to live within those moments.

The woman was dressed simply, the flickering fire behind her colored her dark skin orange and red. She was the picture of youth and freshness with rounded shoulders and flesh that was full and smooth. There was not a blemish upon her small frame. She had no deformity or defect that could strike the sort of fear into a person that Ines felt. For it was not a woman who sat upon that throne, it was not a god or a devil, neither beast nor angel. There was no word for what she was, only a name.

Silas

"There have been complications," Ines mumbled but regretted the words as soon as they passed through her lips.

Silas moved quickly with deadly precision. In less than an instant she had Ines's face in her hand. The smooth dark skin of her fingers felt like knives coasting over Ines's skin. At any moment they could sink down into her flesh and make red ribbons of her face.

"Complications?"

Her breath was sweet as it moved over Ines's face, getting caught in the witch's hair like she was nothing but dark sap and sugar inside. Ines knew better for whatever lay inside Silas was nothing so natural as sap and sweetness. The shifting flames of fire captured in a hearth, cut living shapes into the walls and floor. Ines shifted from her right foot to her left, her bare feet turning cold against the stone.

She opened her mouth to speak but Silas raised a hand causing the witch to silence. This unearthly being backed away, turning her eyes to the flames of her large fire. Ines had thought it strange that she could not even feel a bit of warmth from it. She could not feel the chill of the rain either. She was numb.

"Complication was the point, Ines. Distraction, interruption, hindrance, that was your job. And yet Niklaus moves closer toward his goal. As I recall it was your responsibility to make sure that did not happen," she drawled her tone betraying no concern.

Of course Silas was not concerned. What was a bug to a god? What could a blade of grass be to the whipping wind that tore trees from the earth? What concern was a sad boy with a sad purpose compared to her? Niklaus was of no concern to Silas. He was a pain, a headache, a mosquito buzzing in her ear. It would be far too appropriate to simply squash the annoyance between her fingers, if only she had the time for it. That was why Silas had people like Ines. It was such a pity when they failed her.

"You should know by now that I'm not at all tolerant of failure, Ines."

"I haven't failed you yet."

"No, not yet," she said softly and again Ines caught the smell of her breath, the sweetness of it turning her stomach, "And you won't because if you do there will be consequences, for you and everything you've ever loved. Am I understood?"

The water dripped up the glass and the wooden figures squirmed and shrieked without sound. Behind Silas the mouth of the hearth seemed to yawn wider as if to swallow Ines whole.

"Yes."

"Go now, Ines and do as I bid you."

Ines nodded, her body shaking as she turned and stepped back through the wrinkle, leaving Silas alone with her flickering thoughts.

Staring into the fire, she smiled to herself, reading Ines's mind, knowing what she'd do. Her hand reached out to the fire, fingers twisting the flames as the image appear below:

Niklaus, he was so enamored by his human and fighting it so violently at the same time. She could see the poetic saga that was waiting to play out. The hunter that had been sent, by his mother in penance for the crimes she'd committed against Silas, would do as she was created.

There was the doppelganger, so blissfully ignorant- so much potential. It was a pity that she wasn't one of Silas's. The brothers believing themselves to be so clever, so put together, so in control of their emotions and situation, were crumbling at the seams. Their alliance splintering with each day that past as the hunter and the doppelganger she sought to protect, fissured relations between them.

There was such symmetry in human's existence. They were born, lived only a short while and then they died, returning to the same dirt from which they were made. No matter how many centuries, millennia that passed, it seemed nothing ever truly changed. They were always the same stories, replaying themselves in new bodies.

This tragedy however, was one of the more amusing ones. She remembered the first, fondly. Samson was made of such weak will. He was so easily manipulated. God had given him the strength of the unearthly but cursed him with a human mind. And his Delilah: possibly the first female hunter of any kind.

I was a calamitous, lamentable affection, one that crushed Samson in its dissolution. If Hashem hadn't intervened, stepping over the bounds of what had been agreed upon between himself, Lucifer and Silas; finishing him out of benevolence, the story would have had a different ending.

Silas wasn't nearly as forgiving of those who betrayed law. And unfortunately for Niklaus, there would be no intervention in this story. This Samson would have his Delilah for his short while and curdle in grief after its demise.

There was a price for insolence, one he'd pay many times over.

---

Eltham Palace

1492 AD

He didn't know how long he'd been asleep. It could have been minutes or days. It was the combination of sunlight filtering through the window, the smell of Lyanna, and freshly brewed black tea that woke him.

Sprawled on his stomach, he could see his drawings neatly collected and stacked next to the bed, smudges of charcoal on the bottom of the cotton sheet from where she'd lain and he could hear human breathing. Rolling onto his back, he found her.

Sitting in the small alcove she had wrapped herself in the sheet from the bed, body fitting snugly in the stone frame, teacup in hand, a sketch of his in her lap, fingers tracing the frosted outlines of the widow that gave her privacy from the King's Alley below.

Had he seen more beautiful things in his life? Yes, of course he probably had. Could he remember a time in particular? No. At that moment, he was sure (as he would be in the future) that for those few brief seconds he had seen perfection.

What had he done or rather what had he allowed her to do? She shouldn't be here. Where had she gotten that tea? Who had seen her or knew that she was here?

His plans to help her cause, one slip up for them and it could all be ruined. All it would take is one person finding her here, for the Parliament to have some type of witness to their suspicions that Niklaus had an attachment to this woman and reason to therefore discount his testimony of her innocence.

Watching her somehow, for a short while, he didn't care. He just wanted to enjoy the moment.

But as soon as he was warmed by the image of her, he was somewhat repulsed by himself. Hadn't he slept with thousands of human women? Hadn't he screwed royalty and beauties that would forever be immortalized in famous art, writings and history?

Klaus had, had women crawl after him on their knees: promising all they owned, their lives, anything for a moment longer with him. He should have forced her to leave last night. He should have stopped it from happening or even beginning long before.

He was supposed to out manoeuvre her. She was supposed to fall at his mercy. He was the seducer not the seduced. But as he watched her in the window, tracing her patterns, drinking her tea, he realized he had lost. He may have been a killer but so was she, only she didn't know it yet and she was so much more precise, agonizing, in her execution.

Niklaus Mikaelson was in way over his head. He'd never get out now. Not intact, anyhow. Lying there watching her, he prepared himself for all of her possible reactions. Perhaps she'd woken in an unfamiliar place and wished to take back every word from the night before. Mayhaps she traced words of regret on the panes of the widow and was stringing together words of contrition into a speech to deliver when the time was right.

At least she'd pretended to care enough to wait till he woke. She wouldn't slink from his room in the early hours of morning and avoid him like a disease for the next few days.

It was funny the pretty packages insecurity wrapped itself in. Behind layers of wisdom, life experience and grey indifference, there was still a twenty something year old human, standing outside a door, realizing that every word he'd spoken had been in vain.

"You shouldn't be here."

She turned to look at him, tea cut dropping to her lap, sheet slipping, exposing faint black smudges from where his hands had been the night before, like a road map of every touch.

The doubt he felt, painted over her face with his abrupt greeting. Before she could answer he continued, "Do you regret it?"

"What do you think?"

He didn't answer, mostly because he was sure she would. Nothing good could ever stay. Five hundred years and that he knew that for sure.

"Will you give me a reason to?"

Possibly every day for the rest of eternity, but wasn't that the risk they had to take? he thought.

"I don't know."

He rose from the bed, making his way to her. Taking the tea cup from her lap, he drank from it as she reached up, sheet falling to her waist, pulling him down, the taste of tea leafs fresh on his lips.

"What is this?" she questioned, holding a sketch of his out for him to see.

It was a rough drawing, a faceless woman, back turned, hand reaching out towards the fire in front of her.

"Just a sketch, Love…."

"Yes, I can see that. But of whom?"

He didn't know for sure, but he assumed it was her. He'd dreamt it, days before. A woman waiting for him- he could sense it. When he was near, she had looked over her shoulder in his direction before stepping forward, like she was immortal, right into the fire. Flames licked their way up her skirt, through her skin, it singed her hair but she didn't cry out, she never screamed. And no matter how loud he'd call after her, begged for her to come back, to not continue, she wouldn't listen. Instead, she'd only paused, glancing over her shoulder once more, before continuing into the light.

He had tried to follow her but he couldn't. It was too bright and then darkness had swallowed him whole.

"I don't know. It was from a dream." One for which he had no notion of its meaning, as haunting as it was.

"I should have ordered you some tea." No she shouldn't have. She shouldn't be here. She'd have to leave soon but he'd not think of that now.

Forget the tea. He didn't care if he ever had another drop for the rest of his life. He'd gladly take his from her lips, any day of the week.

The tea cup clattered when it hit the ground, Niklaus grabbed for her foot, spreading her legs to press himself between, when he hissed in pain. He looked down at the red letters that were scrawled across his hand, burned into his skin of his palm. Before they faded he read: La via, la vertia, la luce.

"What?" she questioned.

Roughly he grabbed her foot, turning it, before reading the black markings inked into the skin, a heady feeling of nostalgia coming over him.

"What are these?"

Confused, Lyanna replied, "I don't know."

"Did Elspeth do this?" Did the witch know or the wolves? Who would mark her like this? Who knew about the hunters besides himself, Elijah and Ines?

"No. I've always had them."

"Since when?" he asked harshly.

"Um… forever, when Elspeth found me she said it was already inked there."

He studied her for a moment, trying to decipher if she was possibly lying to him. His mind flashed back to weeks previous, before he'd found her in the woods, had Ines's revelation, the abbey, the ball and everything said in between:

"The full moon is tomorrow, brother. After all these centuries it is finally time."

"I've been to see our witch," Elijah paused, "She believes she may have found a way to spare the doppelganger."

"What does it matter if she lives or not? She is a means to an end. That is all…."

"So she should die for your gain?"

He could sense it then, his brother's weakness for the girls, for Katerina and Lyanna. He'd save the doppelganger possibly for himself but surely to spare Lyanna (Elijah's Lyanna) pain.

"She is human, her life means nothing."

"I beg you to reconsider this." Niklaus had warned him to not become so attached.

"Are you so foolish as to care for her?" Which 'her' was he speaking of? Either would do. It was a pointless question for they both already knew the answer, regardless of his brother's response.

"Of course not," Elijah lied.

"Love, is a vampire's greatest weakness and we are not weak, Elijah. We do not feel. And we do not care."

And he'd meant it. His doppelganger would die; the little wolf that his brother seemed to toy with would not be far behind. And Lyanna Lockwood, she could write his brother hundreds of letters, inspire dozens of drawings and nightmares. But not even her imaginary God could save her.

"We did once." And they'd all paid for it dearly.

"Too many lifetimes ago to matter. Tell the witch not to bother. The sacrifice will happen as planned."

He had known before Lyanna had come to his room, before the walk back from Henry's festivities, that ever since the ball he'd made perhaps the worst mistake of his entire existence. He was stupid enough to believe again and furthermore to love the one person put on this earth to eliminate his existence, ruin all of his plans and drive him to misery and utopia in same breath.

Niklaus was out of excuses. Before, he could have said that it was simply in his best interest to hate her. Later he could've argued that she loved his brother and he knew Elijah returned similar sentiments. He wouldn't be foolish enough to fall into the trap again.

He had planned for two months, two failed opportunities and last night another, to eliminate Lyanna, but he knew he could never do it. He'd known since that moment in the garden, when she burned what protection she had left and looked at him as if she were wholly unafraid of what would come next.

He'd never let Lyanna die. For he was plenty sure that if she went, so would whatever comfort he had left in this wretched life, littered with disappointments and betrayals. The doppelganger would die, Lilly and Elspeth as well.

Whatever was left that held her to this place, he'd cut those strings and sever the ties she never would have left. He would have it all. He'd break the curse, build his army and no one would stop him. Mikael would be nothing but a smudge on a dusty country road. Elijah, Rebekah, Kol and even Finn, they'd never have to fear anything ever again. And he'd have Lyanna.

Maybe his plans were loose and fast at that moment. Not every detail well thought out. Many contingencies he'd later wish he'd accounted for. At the moment, however, he didn't care what his mother had tried. Niklaus didn't care about the warnings Ines had subtly tried to give.

He needed to believe that it wasn't the curse that made him feel this way. That she wasn't drawn to him as he was her, because it was forced. And that maybe then, for the first time, he'd finally gotten something right between him and Lyanna.

Esther may have had plans but she couldn't have accounted for this. Lyanna might have been leading him into hell, but that was a chance he was willing to take. Dropping her foot, he pressed her against the chilled window. Unfolding the sheets, kissing her neck his hands slid up her thighs before he pulled her forward, entering her. Lyanna's head fell back, legs wrapping around his waist, "Niklaus… I'll never regret you," she promised.

If he ruined this, there would be no going back. There wouldn't be second chances, so he'd have to make sure that he did it right the first time. No mistakes, no apologies. As they moved against the window whispering promises and encouragements to one another, Silas's prediction came true.

Had he never loved her, he could have had it all, everything he'd ever wanted- or close enough. She didn't need to cut his hair to overtake Niklaus. His Delilah killed him slowly with love and affection, poisoning herself at the same time.

It was possibly his last chance at happiness that he grasped at greedily, not caring about the consequences.

Lyanna pressed him closer, inviting him in, wholeheartedly, committing.

Three days they'd spent in London together. The only time Klaus would ever be able to look back at his life and clearly remember what bliss felt like. He'd never take Lyanna to Rome, Spain, the Ziggurat Mountains. They'd never do all the things he planned, when he decided to turn her. But those three days would be the best and subsequently later, the most painful of his existence.

He was right, no matter what he'd keep Lyanna forever just not the way he had intended. Nothing ever worked out the way Niklaus planned.

---

(Quick things that you should pick up on)

Scene 2:

A few things to pick up on here (again I won't go into nauseating detail) first, notice that Elspeth mentions anointing the doorways with oils and sleeping with the rosary under her pillow. This is significant in many ways. First, as described in the scene it brings back all kinds of interesting meaning from what happened last time Lyanna+ a rosary + Niklaus were put together and its significant for Niklaus's commentary. There is mention that he started these rumors that vampires fear God and holy things. THIS IS VERY VERY IMPROTANT. LOCK THIS DETAIL IN YOUR MIND AND DO NOT FORGET IT. Also its interesting that he started this whole rumor in mocking of Hannah (our first judeo Christian religious hunter). Hannah is also the one that curses Niklaus. If you don't know what curse I'm referring to go look at her poster on my tumblr. This little detail will be coming full circle in so many ways this chapter and future chapters.

Again, if I quote things, especially things from books there was a reason. It wasn't just to fill the page. This entire quoted dialogue between Niklaus and Lyanna is very telling and important.

The necklace, well I explained the original purpose for the stone and what it was meant for originally when Niklaus intended to give it to Tatia. Then he gave the stone to Lyanna, the one that he kept all those years…. What did that stone mean? Think… what was that stone's purpose? Okay, I'm done.

Scene 3:

Katerina, isn't it interesting the misconceptions she has about Lyanna's situation? They will become quite interesting in her future story. Also, I have a head canon of Katerina that is much different from most people's human Kat. I think she was always a little dark. She was always a little desperate but hid it under a pretty face and a ton of charm. She has 2 MO's: survive, and leave men before they leave her. Perhaps before they realize what is behind that charming smile? I think she grapples with some serious well hidden insecurities. Also- her character mirrors Niklaus's in many, many ways. I have intentionally set it up that way. As Elijah mirror's Lyanna, Katerina mirrors Niklaus.

The letter scene:

If you have read the 2051 Teaser you know exactly what this entire scene is setting up.

Prostitute Scene: The whole context of what has happened in this scene has HEAVY foreshadowing for the future, well past Lyanna/Caroline.

The Nyanna Sex scene:

All of these are quotes that are important

"I am someone today to you, but will I be tomorrow? I am not a wide eyed, naïve girl anymore. I know things now that can't be unlearned."

….

"Men break what is not theirs too easily and without thought. They ask for trust, implicitly then betray it without apology. They take what they want and when they are done they do not care for the ruin they leave behind."

"You fear I will break you?" There it was: the edge of malignity, creeping into his voice. Cruelty bred from fear and knowledge of a loss that was to come.

"No, I fear I could be foolish enough to someday let you try."

…..

Instead of kissing him, she hovered, fingers tracing his face and changing expression. It was like she was studying him, appreciating him, making a memory with her outlines as they watched one another.

This should jump out at you. This exact scene with similar wording was in the 2051 teaser. What is the context of this scene? Lyanna is showing Niklaus what love is and what is happening in the 2051 teaser? There is a reason why there are these parallels.

The final scene:

Notice that in this final scene Niklaus decides with certainty that he will change Lyanna into a vampire. This is an interesting parallel drawn from Elijah before. Elijah wanted to save Lyanna because he loved her as well. He knew he could run with her forever, but because he loved her he knew it was kinder to let her die because she won't wish to live if Katerina, Lilly and Elspeth were gone. Notice Niklaus not only plans on changing her but making sure all 3 women are dead to sever her ties to her human life.

Ines and her dialogue about the brothers and their thought process…. This is so telling of both of these characters.

Oh and Tatia: Tatia was pregnant for few reasons when she was killed. Esther touched on this when she spoke of the trying to circumvent the spirits. A-Two lives Esther took when she killed Tatia and 2 doppelgangers that were born. B- Two lives Esther took and two of her children were also slaughtered: Kol and Finn. The debt was repaid. Henrik wouldn't be included because his death (as you remember) was before Tatia's death.