Hello lovelies! Eight chapters feels like a milestone for some reason. Thank you for sticking with this story for so long! I cherish every time I see that the latest chapter has a new view. Do any other writers obsessively refresh their story traffic pages?
P.s. Just to clarify in case some people are confused or wondering, this is definitely a Klelijah romance fic. :3
Chapter Eight: Reprieve
/rəˈprēv/
Noun: A temporary escape from an undesirable fate
It was high noon with the sun directly overhead. Klaus had already counted the clouds like sheep trying desperately to escape consciousness. He was unsuccessful, and so Klaus had taken to staring directly into the sun. Slowly, his retina would burn and the world would go black. Then his eyes would heal and he would start the process over again. All in all, it was better than watching the grass grow in between the cobblestones and he couldn't quite focus on his books at the moment.
Finally, he heard a barrage of footsteps approaching the gates, and a murmuring a familiar voices. They sounded happy, and that seemed foreign.
"Niklaus! We come bearing gifts and good tidings," said Elijah with a boyish grin as they entered the manor grounds. He and Rebekah were carrying large cardboard boxes that smelled vaguely of lavender and ocean air, but Niklaus couldn't bring himself to wonder what they held or why.
"I have some news of my own, brother," said Klaus as he sat up and blinked the sun out of his eyes. "Should you go first or shall I?"
The new arrivals furrowed the brows and exchanged confused glances. They weren't sure what news Klaus could possibly have while being stuck inside that small sigil for days on end.
"Go on," said Elijah with one eyebrow raised.
"Well, our dearest father dropped by for a quick chat," said Klaus. He turned his face back up to the sun and closed his eyes.
The announcement was met with a collective gasp, and Elijah began to pace.
"And Marce-?" began Elijah, but he stopped when he saw NIklaus' lips purse ever so slightly.
"He just wanted to know why the siphoning talisman wasn't working," said Klaus. "Then he left, and all was well."
"I'm surprised that he didn't have any witches with him to break down the wards around the property," said Vincent as he scratched his chin.
"Or that's what we have to prepare for next time," said Freya. She began to rummage through boxes, and Vincent joined her.
While the two witches discussed wards, illusions, and traps, Elijah searched Niklaus with his eyes for any sign of wrongdoing. The barriers on the compound held up. The sigil lines were unbroken. There were no traces of blood and his clothes were still pristine, but something was amiss. Then, Elijah noticed full and untouched blood bags hidden slightly behind the edge of the mattress. He narrowed his eyes. It wasn't like Niklaus to lose his appetite, especially in the face of danger. In fact, the only other time he had witnessed this behavior was shortly after the death of Camille. Yes, something was surely wrong.
Elijah approached the edge of the sigil and looked down as his brother. Klaus' body was strewn lazily on the mattress, but lines between brows betrayed a hint of tension.
"Why haven't you eaten?" asked Elijah softly.
Klaus looked up to see worried brown eyes. For a moment, he felt that Elijah could see right through him, that Elijah could tell that he wanted to die. He opened and closed his mouth, unsure of an appropriate lie while the real answer was that temporary hunger blunted his rage and grief. He would always eat before the desiccation set in, but the hunger pains had become a welcome distraction from the constant replay of his father's accusations.
"Just lost in thought, Elijah," he murmured and rolled over to sink his teeth into the nearest blood bag. It was type A positive, a sharp and vibrant taste that shocked his system. The influx of energy made his anxiety surge, and Elijah tilted his head curiously while he listened to Niklaus' heart rate speed up.
Elijah hmmed and watched his brother drink for a few more moments before he believed his brother's lie.
"Well, don't you want to hear the good news?" asked Elijah. Klaus could hear the smile in his voice before he even turned around.
"The only good news would be getting to leave this godforsaken circle of salt," he said dryly.
Elijah's smile widened as Niklaus eyes did the same.
"No," he said with disbelief, having been somewhat positive that he would be trapped for the next few years.
"Yes," said Elijah with a beaming smile.
In his excitement, Niklaus instinctively got up and stepped forward to hug Elijah, but after two paces, Klaus hissed and fell back sharply. The tips of his toes and fingers burned when they had crossed the sigil lines. He cradled his hands as if to nurse them back to health as he scowled. Then, Elijah reached over the lines and grabbed Klaus' hands to take a look at his grey fingertips. He shook his head and grumbled.
"We're taking care of this," Elijah assured Niklaus, but his brother just pulled away and crossed his arms as his to hide his hands.
The desiccation felt like his tormentors marking their territory, and he didn't want Elijah to see that. He couldn't be happy about this. Even without the siphoning, the rituals, and the desiccation, he still couldn't imagine his body as being his own. Klaus curled in on himself as he crossed his arms ever tighter. If freedom didn't bring him peace, the white oak was still there.
"Niklaus…" said Elijah with uncertainty as he watched the depression sink its teeth back into his brother. He searched for the right words, but then Freya called everyone to meet her by the boxes and unpacked piles of magical ingredients. She started handing out items to everyone but Klaus.
"Elijah – carve the candles with this symbol here," she ordered and handed him a paper with an intricate pattern.
"Rebekah – I'll show you how to lay down the salt lines," said Freya and Rebekah nodded. "Vincent – you know what to do."
Then, everyone set to work on his or her own separate tasks. Klaus sat in the center of the commotion and watched as his simple sigil was slowly becoming much more elaborate and ornate with the addition of candles, new salt lines, and herbs. At this rate, the sigil would consume the entire courtyard.
"So would anyone like to fill me in on the details of whatever the hell this is?" asked Klaus with apprehension as he gestured to the spiraling salt lines and elaborately braided sprigs of lavender laid carefully on the ground.
Rebekah huffed and sucked her teeth, seeming altogether displeased as she measured out a perfectly even swirl of salt on the ground.
"Well," began Elijah hesitantly, "to be clear, it's not really a way to free you from the siphon link specifically, but Freya did find a way for you to survive outside of the sigil."
Niklaus' face fell, and the gloom emanating from Niklaus felt like a tangible fog drifting through the courtyard.
"I see," he said softly.
Rebekah gestured towards Niklaus aggressively and put her hand on her hip.
"See, I told you he wouldn't like it," she said, "You got his hopes up for this stupid, dangerous plan."
"It's not stupid," countered Elijah, "and it's better than letting him deteriorate in this – this prison."
"Staying in this sigil is better than risking both your lives!" said Rebekah as she raised her voice. "I won't lose another brother this year!" The courtyard fell silent and her voice rang throughout the halls of the manor. Her eyes started to water and she turned around sharply.
"Elijah, what's she talking about?" asked Klaus.
"We won't die…Freya said – " he muttered and averted his eyes. He took at deep breath to steady himself through the fresh grief of losing Finn.
"Freya said wait?" asked Klaus through clenched teeth.
"Hold on now," interjected Vincent with raised hands. "Freya did the best that she could. Essentially, Freya deconstructed the original ritual and made it possible for you to draw on someone else's power as the talisman draws on your power. Elijah volunteered for you to siphon him."
Vincent would have continued the explanation, but a withering glare from Rebekah stopped him in his tracks and he went to stand by her side.
Meanwhile, Klaus furrowed his brows. He could think of so many ways for this to go horribly wrong.
"I will not put Elijah in harms way," said Klaus, "I can stay in this sigil for a while longer."
"Niklaus, we're doing this," said Elijah sternly. "While you siphon me, Freya will connect me to the core magic of the earth. She said it would take a spell of apocalyptic proportions in order to do any real damage."
Klaus could think of a few spells like that instantly.
"Exactly," said Freya, finally interjecting as she wiped sweat of concentration from her forehead. "This type of ladder siphoning drastically reduces the chances of either of you dying."
The cold and logical explanation did not sooth Niklaus.
"Why use Elijah? Why not just link me to the earth in the first place?" asked Klaus.
"You're too weak right now to be released from the sigil alone," she said, "You wouldn't be able to draw on the energy of the earth quickly enough to sustain your life force before the siphoning killed you today, and so you need a powerful buffer like Elijah to make the siphoning safe."
"You promise this will work? That Elijah will be okay?" asked Klaus.
Freya nodded and finally looked up at him to make eye contact for the first time in days. Klaus could she prominent dark circles and red veins creeping into the whites of her eyes. Even her skin seemed dull and dehydrated.
"I promise you, Niklaus," she said heavily.
The stared at each other for a few moments longer, examining each other's ragged appearances and sunken cheeks.
"Okay," he slowly. "I trust you. Let's do this."
Freya blinked rapidly to hold back tears as she nodded and turned away again. Klaus cleared his throat and tried to decipher what he felt when he looked into her eyes, but there were more pressing matters at hand.
"So," started Klaus as he tried to find the right words for a question that had been nagging at him for the past hour, "do all siphoning rituals involve similar activities?"
"Similar activities…" said Elijah as he trailed off before he realized that Klaus was referencing the assault.
Elijah blanched as he watched redness creep up Niklaus' collarbone. He stuttered as he attempted to correct Niklaus' apparent misunderstanding, but he felt his tongue tied by the lewdness of the potential implication. Instead, he just shook his head vigorously to let Niklaus know that there absolutely would not be any sexual interactions today.
Luckily, Freya came to the rescue.
"To create any sort of bond between two people, there needs to be… some type of physical interaction," said Freya as she lit the candles with a flick of her wrist. "You just need to hold hands during the ritual."
Klaus took a deep breath to steady his nerves. That wasn't so bad. He felt rather ridiculous for worrying about anything else. Of course Freya and Elijah wouldn't do anything to hurt him, nor were they going to invade his privacy without asking.
As Klaus mulled this over, Elijah made his way through the courtyard, careful not to disturb any of the intricate work. He sat by the edge of the mattress and the brothers just waited for Freya to finish her preparations.
"You don't have to do this," whispered Niklaus.
"Always and forever doesn't look like this," whispered Elijah as he gestured to the sigil. "Let me do this for you."
Something in Elijah's deep brown eyes and earnest gaze chipped away at the ice that had encased Niklaus' heart. He nodded. Then, Klaus remembered the words of Stephen King: 'There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don't.'
Klaus took a shaky breath. He would find out soon enough.
And then, the sigil was ready.
Freya corralled Elijah and Klaus into their designated positions on either side of the Sigil. They were trembling slightly, both aware of the gravity of what they were about to do. Klaus took one step back, but Elijah grabbed his hands tightly and held them to his chest. His hands were warm and comforting.
"I can't lose you to this," Klaus whispered. "I should just stay in this sigil until Freya figures something out."
Elijah smiled slightly, "You won't. Just look at me, it'll be fine."
"It'll be fine," repeated Klaus without faith as fear settled into his gut. His confidence in Freya was draining every second.
"Look at me," said Elijah once more as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against Klaus' brow.
Niklaus looked forward into Elijah's steady eyes and felt his anxiety fade slightly. His breath slowed. Maybe – just maybe – he could make it through this pain and anguish if he had his brother by his side, his noble Elijah.
Then, Freya began to chant in the Mikaelson mother tongue, "Bundet av hud, bundet av blod. Bundet av hud, bundet av blod."
Elijah and Niklaus flushed simultaneously. Freya was chanting the words: bound by skin, bound by blood. It sounded more like an old Viking hand fasting ceremony than a spell casting.
"BUNDET AV HUD, BUNDET AV BLOD."
A sudden gust of wind rushed through the courtyard and scattered the salt that created the sigil lines. Driven by protective instinct, Elijah pulled Niklaus into his arms. A flash of light blinded them and heat coursed through their bodies. Their hearts raced as their vision returned. They remained standing and swaying together as the wind died down and Freya stopped her chanting. Niklaus peaked over Elijah's shoulder to catch a glimpse of his own bare hands. He stared in shock as he saw that he hadn't desiccated in the slightest even though the sigil had been destroyed.
"It worked," whispered Niklaus.
His cool breath sent shivers down Elijah's neck.
"It worked!" repeated Rebekah in glee as she and Vincent hugged before running over to congratulate Niklaus. Hugs, smiles, and laughter took over the courtyard. They jumped and jostled each other, taking care not to crush Vincent with their superior strength. Drunk on success and lightheaded from the magic coursing through their bodies, Niklaus and Elijah found themselves leaning against each other for support. It created an electricity between them, and neither seemed to want to pull away.
Meanwhile, Rebekah was hugging Vincent and swaying as she thanked him.
"By the gods, I could just kiss you for everything you've done for us," she said and Vincent felt himself blush. He desperately hoped that she would, but not in front of her brothers.
She pulled away and went to hug her brother's one more time.
"All of this stress has made me famished," she said with a happy and airy tone. "Vincent, would you join me at the café?"
Vincent nodded, a bit dazed by her affections, and followed her out as she waved goodbye.
"Bring me a croissant with peach jam!" called Klaus as he watched them leave with a wistful expression.
Meanwhile, Elijah frowned enough to create permanent wrinkles on his immortal face.
"So that's why she didn't meet me for breakfast," mused Niklaus as the budding romance finally became blindingly obvious.
Elijah, on the other hand, was unimpressed.
"He doesn't seem good enough for our sister," he said. "Shall we take care of this one as well? She hardly has good taste in men."
Klaus almost laughed. Elijah and Vincent had been butting heads for years in New Orleans, but for once, Klaus was pleased with the man Rebekah had chosen.
Without thinking, Niklaus brushed his fingers against Elijah's forearm as if to sooth his brother's temper. Warmth spread from Klaus' fingertips, and Elijah seemed to drift into a stubborn relaxation.
"Brother, our sister deserves happiness," said Niklaus, "Not to mention, I promised Vincent that no harm would come to him."
Elijah closed his eyes briefly as the pleasant tingling of Niklaus' touch made him forget his bitter feud with the male witch. Something in his brother was changing for the better. Perhaps it was Vincent's good influence. If that was the case, Elijah owed Vincent a great debt for more than just saving Niklaus' physical form.
"Kindness suits you, Niklaus," mumbled Elijah as he caught Niklaus hand and held it against his cheek.
Taken aback by the compliment, Klaus scoffed before Elijah embraced him. Nicklaus didn't know what to do or say as he slowly wrapped his arms around Elijah in return. There was something surreal about meeting Elijah's expectations for the first time in centuries.
"This is almost over, I promise," mumbled Elijah into Niklaus shoulder, and for a moment, Niklaus believed him.
A few uneventful nights passed in the manor, and Elijah decided to go an expedition to search for rumors of Mikael and Marcel in the city. Despite the good luck with the channeling spell, they still desperately needed a clue that could lead them closer to destroying the talisman.
This was compounded by Elijah's drive to prove himself as an older brother, and so he wracked his brain from places that Mikael might haunt. Over the years, Mikael had developed a taste for high society much like the rest of the family. This made it easy for Elijah to put himself in his father's shoes. And so, tonight, Elijah was visiting the most elite and restrictive society club in New Orleans. He was sure that his surname would gain him entry, and yet he still felt the need to don his finest attire for good luck. His suit would be his armor against the ill intentioned universe.
Preening in the boudoir vanity, Elijah wore a light grey, fifty thousand dollar suit. He adjusted his two hundred-dollar tie, and then added an opal tie bar. Elijah smoothed out the few hairs that were centimeters out of place. While he busied himself with this compulsive need for perfection, Elijah didn't notice that Niklaus had stopped to lean in the doorway with a slightly smile on his face.
"The women of New Orleans will be ravenous tonight, brother," remarked Niklaus.
Elijah looked over his shoulder briefly when he heard Nikalus' voice, and then turned back to cast a dashing smile into the mirror.
"The women of New Orleans will have to wait," he said as he drew a finger over one eyebrow, "There are more pressing matters at hand."
"Ah, yes, hunting the monsters that go bump in the night," said Klaus. "There's no better work than that."
This dark humor did not earn him a reply, and he watched in silence as Elijah obsessively sharpened the creases of his collar and lapel. Klaus frowned and crossed his arms. He was beginning to feel more and more like a ghost in the halls while Elijah went on about his life. They shared brief and fleeting moments, but it seemed that no one had time for him because everyone was busy trying to take care of him. The helplessness and loneliness only grew over the past few days and made his freedom seem somewhat bleaker.
He sighed and turned to leave, not sure of what he expected of Elijah while Elijah did everything for him already.
Then, Niklaus heard a whistle of quick movement behind him just before Elijah grabbed his wrist once more and spun him around. Anxiety at being manhandled dissipated quickly as the skin of his wrist pulsated with a pleasant heat. It was the sensation of some magical energy transfer. The day had been full of these little touches, but neither man was entirely sure of how to act while the transfer took place. And so, there was only silence – painful, vulnerable silence.
Klaus pulled his arm away and turned to leave.
"Be safe tonight," he said over his shoulder.
Elijah opened his mouth as if to speak, feeling a similar, inexplicable pain. There were so many things left unsaid, and so many emotions left unexplored. He never wanted to leave his brother alone ever again, but he would hate himself if couldn't avenge Niklaus. And so, Elijah simply murmured a vague reply and left to hunt those monsters that went bump in the night.
Out on the town, hours passed as Elijah mingled with old money socialites and wannabe heirs. There were no hints of Marcel or Mikael whatsoever – only rich men and women with too much time on their hands. Elijah was beginning to fear that these men had left the city and would be impossible to track. Elijah grimaced. He would be damned if they got away and were able to siphon Niklaus for the rest of their lives.
"Another brandy," said Elijah as he returned to the bar for a seventh time that evening. "Make that a triple."
At least he could find comfort in the dampening of his senses and the numbing of his guilt. But as he drowned his sorrows in too many drinks, Elijah could not dispel his loneliness. He felt distant from Niklaus. He had not truly known Hayley in years. His pain and his drunkenness drove him to find comfort in somebody else – anybody else. Elijah scoured the room and searched for a pretty face. Without thinking, his legs took him across the room to a tall and lanky brunette that reminded him vaguely of a lover he had met long ago.
"I'm sure I'm not the first man to approach you tonight," he said with an automatic smile and a slight slur in his words.
She looked up at him with doe brown eyes and blinked twice before returning his smile.
"You're the fourth, but that's my lucky number," she said.
"I'm more of a believer in fate," he replied.
"When an inner situation is not made conscious, it appears outside as fate," she quoted with a flip of her hair. "Coincidence seems more likely."
"Ah, straight from the writings of Carl Jung," said Elijah, happy that the conversation was as intelligent as it was charming.
"I have a few more where that came from if you're into the musings of a wannabe psychiatrist in med school," she said.
Elijah nodded and stepped forward to brush his hand through her hair. A brazen move given the fact that they had only met mere minutes ago, but his good looks had always afforded him these moments over the years.
"Would you be more interested in positive or negative reinforcement then?" she whispered and closed the gap between them.
Elijah grinned and let his imagination go wild.
"Come home with me," he whispered, careful not to compel her, and careful not to let his desperation for physical contact and comfort scare her away.
"I don't often go home with men I just met." she purred and traced his lapel, "It's not in my nature, no matter how handsome."
"Do you want me?" he asked softly, and she nodded. "Then what desire can be contrary to nature since it was given to man by nature itself?"
She laughed suddenly as she recognized the quote, "Foucault is a low blow. How can I argue with one of the great minds of philosophy?"
He grinned and downed his thirteenth brandy.
"Right this way," he said and gestured for her to lead the way to the exit. He stumbled a few times behind her as the room started to spin away from him. Elijah was grateful for the fresh air once they reached the sidewalk.
"You never told me your name," said the woman as they left the venue and waited for a valet to fetch his Aston Martin.
"Elijah," he muttered as he closed his eyes against his suffocating drunkenness. He could feel his respiratory system slowing down. "And yours?"
"A pleasure to officially meet you, Elijah Mikaelson," she said as the valet returned. "My name is Clara."
He nodded and fell back against the brick wall, not noticing that he never told her his last name.
"You can drive," said Elijah as he gestured for the valet to hand her the keys. Elijah slumped into the passenger's seat and never quite remembered that drive home.
She gladly accepted and drove swiftly to the infamous Mikaelson Manor without direction. All the while, Elijah's hand slowly crept up her thigh.
"N'klau…" slurred Elijah as they parked, which luckily sounded as if he were struggling to say this woman's name.
"Clara," she reminded him as she guided his hand further up her leg.
Elijah pulled her forward into a kiss. She was reasonably skilled, and so Elijah half pulled, half carried Clara through the courtyard and up a staircase. Elijah stopped in the hallway outside his bedroom and stared her down in the darkness.
"Do you want this?" he asked as he kissed her neck and unzipped her dress.
Clara's pulse quickened and Elijah started to kiss along her jaw. He needed the comfort of a woman in his bed. He needed her to say yes, to agree to take away his pain for one night.
"Yes," she breathed and he kissed her deeply. Without stopping, he opened his bedroom door, hoisted her up to straddle his waist, and carried her inside.
Just as Clara began to undo Elijah's tie, the lights in the bedroom turned on.
"Bad idea," said a voice from the other side of the room, "you have no idea how long my brother spent fixing that damn tie."
Elijah and Clara froze, both flushed from arousal and embarrassment. Elijah set Clara down without grace and blinked twice to be sure that he wasn't drunkenly hallucinating his brother in his bed.
Niklaus sat up against the headboard with a tattered book in hand, and with tortoise shell reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He had a curious expression on his face as he flipped through the pages of his Stephen King novel, ignoring the rightful owner of the bed as he searched for something in those pages.
Elijah couldn't find the right words to describe the unease in his stomach.
Breaking the silence, Niklaus flipped to another page of The Stand and read aloud, "I am afraid, but I have been afraid before. All he can take from me is what I would have to give up someday anyhow – my life. I will not let him make me less than I am, if I can possibly help it."
Then, Niklaus then raised his left hand and let his sleeve slip down to his elbow. Black desiccation was creeping down Niklaus' wrist and the sight made Elijah's heart stop. Forgetting Clara, Elijah moved quickly to kneel at the edge of the bed. Niklaus closed the book and finally looked at Elijah with pained eyes.
"I thought I would wait for you here," he explained.
Panic and concern suddenly made Elijah feel four drinks more sober.
"How could the desiccation return so quickly?" muttered Elijah as he examined his brother's arm. A wave of warmth spread over Klaus' skin and the desiccation receded.
"It started as soon as you left," said Niklaus gently, and Elijah frowned deeply. "I couldn't sleep. I hope you don't mind."
Elijah shook his head as his thoughts raced.
"It must hurt," mused Elijah, "And you must be tired. Stay in my bed tonight."
Klaus exhaled deeply, happy to be rid of the dry and aching sensation in his hand.
"Well, I wouldn't want to intrude," said Klaus as he motioned to the girl forgotten in the corner of the room.
Elijah turned to see Clara looking alarmed while she held up her unzipped dress with crossed arms. "Shouldn't he go to the hospital? That looks like sepsis," she said.
Elijah rose to his feet and approached Clara with such intensity that she squeaked and fell back against the wall. He stared into her eyes, and his pupils dilated as he compelled her, "Forget what you've seen and heard. Forget me. Now go and never come back."
Clara left quickly, and Klaus whistled.
"Harsh," he said.
Elijah shrugged grumpily as he began to undress and hang his expensive clothing. He teetered briefly as he struggled to remove his slacks.
"Do women enjoy your blunt nature, or do you put more effort into charming them?" asked Niklaus dryly.
Elijah had stripped down to his boxer briefs and looked over his shoulder at Niklaus as he said, "trust me, you would know if I were courting you."
Niklaus scoffed as his heart skipped a beat.
"Careful Elijah, you may give someone the wrong idea," said Niklaus as he tried to focus on his book.
Elijah simply shrugged with a boyish grin as he slipped out of his underwear and into a pair of plaid pajama bottoms.
"I have fantastic ideas," he muttered to himself.
"What's that?" asked Niklaus as he looked up just in time to watch his brother nearly topple into the dresser.
"Careful, Elijah, that's an antique," he said just before Elijah knocked his knee into the coffee table while putting away his cuff links. "By the gods, I haven't seen you this inebriated in centuries."
Elijah turned around, and Niklaus found himself staring at Elijah's pale, marble-like abs. He felt a twinge of jealousy, having withered away in the past months, along with another twinge of something unfamiliar in his stomach. He looked away as he felt heat in his cheeks.
"Shy?" Elijah asked.
The jest made Niklaus flush fully now.
"You're a peculiar drunk," countered Niklaus but Elijah ignored this comment.
"I apologize for not being here for you sooner," said Elijah as his drunkenness turned back into sadness and desolation. He waited to climb into bed with Niklaus. "I should have known better than to leave in the first place."
Niklaus crossed his arms and looked away, feeling vaguely vulnerable sharing a bed with another man so soon after Marcel had – he didn't want to think about it.
"Your life shouldn't revolve around me," muttered Niklaus for the first time in his life.
"Perhaps I prefer that it does," said Elijah.
Eternally perplexed by Elijah's unwavering devotion, Niklaus gestured for Elijah to join him.
"And I apologize for ruining your evening," added Niklaus as Elijah settled into bed. "She was stunning."
"Perhaps I prefer my evenings this way instead," said Elijah as he reached his fingertips to rest on Niklaus' forearm. This would keep the desiccation at bay.
Silence stretched on as Elijah closed his eyes and began to drift into a half-sleep.
"I apologize for making your life so difficult," whispered Niklaus.
Klaus sighed deeply as he settled into the bed and tried to fall asleep as well. Anxiety fluttered over his skin as traumatic memories burrowed through his nerves. He could still feel the weight on his back and the pain in his core. The only physical reprieve were Elijah's fingertips on his arm. After thirty minutes of restless shifting and jitters, Niklaus caved into his needs. He rolled onto his side and nestled backwards into Elijah's chest so that he was somewhat spooned by Elijah.
Bliss spread through his entire body, and for the first time in months, Niklaus was at peace.