The heavy velvet curtains, a deep crimson the color of dried blood, did little to soften the harsh glare of the single flickering candle on the ornate side table. Scooting further into the plush armchair, I hummed idly, staring out into the darkened room with unease. Dust motes danced in the weak light, highlighting the intricate carvings on the mahogany furniture – a gilded cage of exquisite cruelty. My wrist throbbed, a constant, agonizing reminder of the shimmering silver cuff encircling it, a serpent of magic biting into my flesh. It wasn't just a physical restraint; it suppressed a part of me that I had never been without, stifling the very essence of my power, and leaving me feeling weak, vulnerable, a mere shadow of my former self.
The air hung heavy with the scent of lilies and something else… something dark and earthy, a hint of decay beneath the polished veneer of opulence. This room, this entire compound, was a contradiction, a symphony of beauty and unsettling unease. It was a stark contrast to the life I'd known in Mystic Falls, a life that now felt distant, like a fading dream. The realization slammed into me with the force of a physical blow. This wasn't a misunderstanding, a temporary inconvenience. This was imprisonment. Deliberate, calculated imprisonment.
My eyes flickered towards the imposing figures standing silhouetted in the shadows. Elijah, his face a mask of stoic concern, watched me with an unnerving stillness. Rebekah, ever the dramatic one, paced restlessly, her vibrant blue eyes darting between me and the others, a flicker of something akin to sympathy dancing within them. Kol, a whirlwind of restless energy and cruel amusement, leaned against the wall, a smirk playing on his lips, his gaze sharp and assessing. I rolled my eyes at his barely hidden amusement. And then there was him. Niklaus.
He stood by the window, his back to me, the moonlight outlining the sharp angles of his jaw, and the breadth of his shoulders. Even from this distance, his presence radiated power, a dangerous magnetism that both attracted and repelled me. The betrayal burned hotter than any physical pain. The depth of his deception, the callous disregard for my feelings, threatened to suffocate me. The man I loved, the man I had foolishly trusted time and time again, had orchestrated this. He had imprisoned me.
A wave of nausea washed over me, the reality of my situation finally sinking in. I placed my hand atop the swelled skin of my abdomen - the baby kicked below my palm, and I inhaled deeply, forcing calm to overtake me. The initial shock and anger were replaced by a bone-deep chill, a fear that ran deeper than the magic binding my wrist. I tapped my fingers against my stomach, praying to the Goddess that Elena and the others had a good plan. I felt ridiculous sitting here at the mercy of others.
"Elara," Rebekah's voice, a low murmur that masked her steely resolve, sliced through the oppressive quiet. The thinly disguised worry in her tone grated on my nerves. "This decision," Rebekah insisted, "is ultimately for your good. You know better than the others how many enemies we have."
I was so sick of their tiresome, repetitive justification – how much longer would they continue this charade of hollow apologies?
Her words were a cruel joke. The best? Imprisoned in a gilded cage, my magic suppressed, my freedom stolen, my unborn child a pawn in their games? This was anything but for the best.
"For the best? You expect her to believe that" Kol's laughter echoed through the room, sharp and devoid of humor. "Oh, Rebekah, darling, don't delude yourself. This is all for Niklaus's amusement. He cares not for that unborn monster" His gaze, devoid of warmth but alight with compassion, settled on me, lingering a moment too long before shifting to Niklaus.
My feet hit the floorboards with a resounding thud, the stagnant air heavy with suffocating heat. A wave of disbelief washed over me as I fixed my adoptive brother with a furious stare. "Kol," I snarled, the words dripping with venom, "if you ever again dare to utter such vile things about my child, I swear I will ram a length of sturdy white oak so far up your ass you'll be tasting sawdust." My steely gaze flickered to the stiff shoulders of Niklaus, and I once again cursed both Kol and Mikael. Monster was one word I would never allow used in my presence.
Elijah cleared his throat, and my gaze snapped toward him. Apart from the barely there rising of his upper lip – which, frankly, looked more like a nervous twitch than a display of dignified disapproval – Elijah remained silent. His expression was unreadable, except for the faintest suggestion of a smirk playing around the corners of his mouth that he desperately tried to suppress. His silence was as heavy and oppressive as the atmosphere itself, which, let's be honest, smelled suspiciously of burnt caramel and aged oak, coated with regret. He watched us all, his keen eyes taking in every nuance of our expressions, every subtle shift in posture, occasionally pausing to subtly adjust his perfectly styled suit. His silence spoke volumes, or at least, it would have if it weren't for Kol loudly humming off-key Beethoven in the background. A testament to his years of experience navigating the treacherous currents of our family dynamics – which mostly involved dodging flying daggers and passive-aggressive jabs. Yet, I sensed a flicker of disapproval in his gaze, a silent condemnation of Niklaus's actions. Silently, I lowered my head in a form of thanks, appreciating that at least one of them could recognize how awful this was.
Niklaus finally turned his eyes, the color of molten gold, meeting mine. There was a flicker of something in their depths – regret? Perhaps. But it was quickly overshadowed by an expression of chilling possessiveness, a glint of something predatory in his gaze. He moved towards me, his every step deliberate, his presence a storm gathering force.
"Love...Elandra," he said, his voice a low, seductive rumble that sent shivers down my spine. The words were honeyed poison, each syllable dripping with a deceptive sweetness that masked the bitterness beneath. "It's only temporary. A small inconvenience before we start our life together. Your curse has been broken, things can be different now. Why can you not see that?"
"An inconvenience?" I snarled, the anger finally breaking through the paralyzing silence. "You've trapped me, Niklaus! You've stolen my freedom, suppressed my magic, turned my life into a living hell! What sort of beginning would that be? We cannot start a life for our child based on deception and anger "
He chuckled, a low, throaty sound that sent a wave of icy dread washing over me. He reached out, his fingers brushing against my cheek, his touch both tender and invasive. "My dearest Elandra," he murmured, his voice laced with a dangerous calmness, "you misunderstand. This is for your protection. And for the protection of our child. In time you will come to see that Besides, you've never been able to stay mad at me for long."
Rebekah winced, leaning her elbow onto the fireplace mantle, her head shaking in disbelief at her brother's idiocy.
"Our child?" I laughed humorlessly. The words were a poisoned dart, piercing the carefully constructed façade of his lies. He was using our child as justification, a twisted rationale to further control me. The thought was sickening, fueling the flames of my anger.
The ensuing hours were a blur of accusations, denials, and veiled threats. Each of my siblings had their perspective on the situation, and their motivations for keeping me imprisoned. Elijah, ever the pragmatist, remained silent, observing the turmoil unfolding around him with a detached, almost clinical interest. Rebekah, her initial sympathy replaced by cautious concern, tried to plead my case, her words falling on deaf ears. Kol, ever the instigator, reveled in the chaos, his taunts and cruel jokes adding to the already oppressive atmosphere. And Niklaus, the architect of my imprisonment, stood aloof, his calm demeanor masking a dark and ruthless determination. He watched me, a predator observing its prey, his eyes never leaving mine. He knew he held all the cards.
My gilded cage of imprisonment was not just the opulent room Rebekah had decorated for me; it was the entire compound, a labyrinth of hidden passages and secret rooms, a testament to the family's long and dark history. At least I had room to breathe. It was a place of power, a place of both beauty and decay, reflecting the complexity of the Original family that held me captive in both body and soul. The gilded cages, breathtaking in their artistry, mocked my imprisonment. My loyalty, once a shield, now felt like a shackle, binding me to a family whose cruelty I'd witnessed firsthand. They'd twisted my sense of right and wrong, whispering promises of belonging, a siren song that threatened to drown out the faint echo of my moral compass. To betray them meant risking not only my life but the lives of others I'd sworn to protect. The choice gnawed at me, a festering wound: betray them and escape, or stay and witness what could only be the demise of all I loved. I held my phone against my chest, waiting hopefully for news from Elena and the others. It had been days of dizzying plans that ultimately came to nothing. My hope was dwindling. Maybe this was to be my life now.
Fear for my child coated my tongue. Niklus's obsession wasn't just a march; it was a relentless, self-destructive stampede. He was blind, fueled by a twisted belief in a destiny he'd fabricated, a destiny that painted me and our child as collateral damage. The war he craved wasn't some abstract battle; it was a personal annihilation, a scorched earth policy against everything I held dear: our home, our friends, the fragile peace I'd painstakingly built in both New Orleans and Mystic Falls. And him. The idea of placing anyone else before him was new and sickening, but as my hand cradled the child within me, I knew I had a new love, one I'd protect just as fiercely as I had him.
Yet as a hardened resolve settled within, I couldnt stop the sadness that overwhelmed me. The thought of stopping him, of betraying the man I loved clawed at me. It violated every fiber of my being, every vow whispered in the quiet hours. But inaction was its form of betrayal. To watch him destroy himself, to stand by while he ignited this inferno, felt like a slow, agonizing suicide of my soul. A part of me, a cowardly, selfish part, whispered that if I intervened if I defied him, I might lose him entirely. The thought of his hatred, his cold rejection, was a weapon more potent than any supernatural force he wielded. Yet, the alternative – complicity in his madness – was far worse. To be the architect of our demise, to seal our fate with my silence, would condemn me to a lifetime of regret, a ceaseless echo of what could have been. So I stood at the precipice of a choice I couldn't bear: betray my love or betray my conscience. There was no good outcome, only varying degrees of heartbreak. Perhaps, I thought with a shudder, failure was inevitable. Maybe stopping Niklus meant losing him, and letting him continue meant losing everyone else. Maybe my only victory was to choose the lesser of two evils, a choice that would forever brand me with the mark of failure and sorrow.
The weight of this impossible decision, this crushing failure of my strength, threatened to shatter me completely. I was trapped, not just by the Originals, but by the monstrous compromise I was forced to make. Each moment stretched into an eternity, the weight of my imprisonment pressing down on me, suffocating me, threatening to consume me.
I spent the following days exploring the confines of my imprisonment, carefully studying the details of my surroundings. The ornate furniture, the intricate carvings, the heavy tapestries depicting scenes of ancient battles and forgotten rituals, all seemed to whisper secrets about the past. The compound itself felt ancient, its foundations steeped in centuries of history, and it pulsed with a potent magical energy that hummed beneath the surface. It was a place of immense power, a place that could both protect and destroy. I searched for a weakness, a flaw in the enchantment that bound me, hoping to find a way to break free. There was none.
My every move was meticulously observed. I was not alone. I was a prisoner. A prisoner of love, a prisoner of betrayal, and a prisoner of the family I had foolishly believed would rather protect than hurt me. My only weapon was the cell phone they had either forgotten to take or knew would do little to help. So I seeped myself in my determination, my will to survive, my fierce love for my unborn child, and my unwavering resolve to escape. The fight for my freedom had just begun, so I settled into my new 'home', and waited.
After a few days of silence and absence, Rebekah appeared, her usually vibrant demeanor muted, a flicker of genuine concern in her oceanic eyes. She carried a tray laden with fruits, meats, and veggies – a stark contrast to the junk that filled their kitchen. I had left notes on the fridge begging whoever might find it for healthier options, and it looked like they had finally listened. "Is this… better," she asked, her voice soft, a marked change from her usual playful lilt. "Im so sorry. After a few centuries, it is hard to remember what pregnant humans need to eat,"
She placed the tray on the small table, the delicate china clinking softly. "Elijah insisted we get some meat, for protein. Said you needed proper nourishment for the baby." The mention of my child, my hybrid offspring, a product of my forbidden love with Niklaus, sent a shiver down my spine. It was a fragile thread connecting me to life, a reason for defiance.
My nose wrinkled and I felt my stomach roll at the smell of the prosciutto lining the tray. With a rough swallow, I rid my mouth of the saliva forcing its way past my teeth.
Her sympathy felt as fragile as that china. I knew she was still angry at me for running, so I tried to keep the peace. "He's…worried," Rebekah continued, her gaze drifting to the silver cuff binding my wrist. "Not just about you, though I suspect that's a significant part of it." She hesitated, picking at a loose thread on her exquisite silk shirt. "You know there's a lot of history here, Elara. History that has shaped us. For better or worse. We can't just let you run away with Niklaus's child. He needs you, he won't survive without you, Ellie. And I think you know that. You-You do not know what those weeks without knowing what happened to you were like." The implication hung heavy in the air, a veiled threat laced with unspoken resentments.
Laying my hand atop the small table beside me, I glared into her stormy eyes. "Are you serious right now? I think I know better than anyone what he is like when he thinks he's lost someone he...cares about," I said, placing my hand on my neck, a brutal reminder of the pain I've felt at his hands more than once. "But that's no excuse to take away my freedom! Have none of you stopped to ask yourselves why I ran?" When she moved to speak, I lifted my hand, shaking my finger. "Im not talking about my anger over that nasty she-wolf Hayley. Im talking about once I realized I was pregnant. Why do you think I never called? " I asked.
Rebekah leaned back in her chair, her cheek taunt with the pressure of her clenched jaw. "That's something Ive been asking myself for months."
My shoulders slumped, a single, weary sigh escaping my lips as I arched a skeptical eyebrow. "Good. At least you're trying," I conceded, the words laced with weary amusement. Rebekah's snarl was a sharp counterpoint, a venomous hiss in the dimly lit room. I rolled my eyes, the movement a small rebellion against her frustration. Dust motes danced in the lone shaft of sunlight slicing through the open ceiling, highlighting the tension between us. "Think, Beks!" I urged my voice sharper now, a desperate plea cutting through the suffocating silence. "Why hide this baby? For its damn safety! You've said it yourself – our enemies are legion. A ravenous pack, hungry for blood. Imagine what they'd do if they knew about us. They'd hunt us down, leaving a trail of carnage in their wake. Niklaus isn't changing. Never. Why would I condemn my child to a life lived in the shadows of war, a life stained with sorrow before it even draws its first breath?"
Rebekah's eyes, brimming with unshed tears, mirrored the understanding slowly dawning in their depths. A single tear traced a path through the fine lines etched around their corners. Her voice caught, a choked whisper lost in the heavy air. "That isn't fair," she managed, the words raw, vulnerable.
"Isn't it?" I countered, my voice a low thrum of bitter truth. The ornate, tarnished silver cuff brushed against my hand - it felt heavy, a tangible weight mirroring the burden of my secret. "His crown… it's all that matters to him. That suffocating weight… he'll never relinquish it. Not even for me."
Rebekah flinched, her eyelids fluttering closed against the unspoken judgment hanging heavy between us. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, broken only by the distant clang of a church bell – a mournful toll echoing the sorrow in my heart. Her silence, a stark testament to the truth of my words, was far more damning than any outburst could have been.
Later that day, it was Kol's turn to try and convince me to stand by them and understand why they had trapped me. Or at least that's what I expected. I should have known he would never be anything but surprising. He was the antithesis of Rebekah's subdued grace, a whirlwind of chaotic energy and mocking laughter. Funnily enough, he didn't offer apologies or explanations. He merely tossed a handful of rare herbs onto the table, a sardonic grin splitting his face. "Ingredients for a spell. Wanna pretend me still have magic?" he asked. "If we wanna finish it, we can just have one of my witches add some of their magic."
I grumbled under my breath, lowering the grimoire I held to the floor. "What the point?"
Kol sat down beside me and smiled. "Gotta learn what it's like for us muggles, darling."
With a glare, I stood, walking over to the bookcase and running my fingers along the spines of the countless books that had been my only companions for the last few days.
"Just..go away, Kol. I'm not in the mood to play."
His casual amusement hid a deeper layer of complexity, however. I sensed a strange undercurrent beneath his playful facade, a hint of something akin to… envy. Deep down he knew I wasn't like him, my magical suppression was, hopefully, temporary. Where his lack of magic was a permanent punishment for what he was. It was a fleeting impression, easily dismissed as his usual theatrics, yet it lingered, a disquieting echo in the oppressive silence that followed his departure. Pity coated my rolling stomach, and I sat back down, mind rotating like a disquieted sea.
The mahogany table, polished to a mirror sheen, reflected the single flickering candle flame, its light dancing across the vast emptiness of the dining room. Dust motes swirled in the weak illumination. A floorboard creaked – almost inaudible – then the heavy oak door swung inward, soundless as a wraith. Elijah. He settled opposite me, the crisp whisper of his impeccably tailored suit a stark contrast to the silence. His face, usually a sculpted mask, was etched with something deeper than his customary reserve; a tremor in his jaw, barely perceptible, betrayed a profound unease.
"Good evening, 'Lijah, I said, lips dry and newly unused to the action of speech.
His eyes were like cold pools of shadowed ink, piercing mine with an unwavering gaze. A flicker of concern flashed across his face before he turned back to stone. I lowered my head, the sadness and fear emanating from him setting me on edge. Guilt threatened to consume me, but I pushed it down - they were the ones who should feel ashamed.
Elijah didn't speak. He didn't need to. The weight of his presence – a physical pressure, like a hand on my chest – was palpable, heavy in the suffocating stillness of the room. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken tension. The cage around me felt less like a sanctuary and more like a tomb. Timidly, he placed a book before me. Not just any book, but one that had held my heart once upon a time. Ancient vellum, cracked and brittle, pages yellowed with age, whispering tales of forgotten rites and shadowed power. The scent of dust and time, tinged with something oddly sweet and sinister, filled my nostrils. His gesture, seemingly innocuous, felt like a defiant act against the omnipresent shadow of Niklaus – a silent rebellion, a secret pact sealed in the shared knowledge of this forgotten lore. His dark eyes lingered on mine, a silent question, a silent answer. He wanted my trust again, and I knew in that moment, that nothing he could do would ensure my forgiveness, not yet at least.
"I am sorry that you feel betrayed, Lannie. But please, do not darken your heart to us," he begged, standing to his feet in a swish of burnt cinnamon and vanilla.
His movements were fluid, almost ethereal, a true distinction to the turmoil in my heart. The spoon felt heavy, mirroring the weight of my unspoken anger. The silence stretched, broken only by the clinking of the spoon against the porcelain bowl. Doubt gnawed at me; could I remain unforgiving? It wasn't in my former character to do so, but as my eyes caught the shining silver of my hair, I felt anger pinch my battered heart. A single tear traced a path down my cheek, reflecting the uncertain future ahead, a future still shrouded in the bittersweet scent of his apology.
After a few days of gnawing loneliness, punctuated only by fleeting glimpses of the Mikaelsons, another visit loomed. Unlike the others, this wouldn't be a brief, polite exchange. Niklaus, a silent sentinel at my side since the beginning, had been lingering in my periphery, his presence a suffocating weight. Yet, his voice, that deep, resonating baritone, remained silent – a stark testament to our last, brutal argument. He was, as always, a maddening conundrum. His presence was a palpable force, a storm brewing beneath a deceptively calm exterior, a storm I was increasingly afraid of being swept away by. His appearances around the compound were less frequent now, each visit marked by an almost unbearable tension, a silent battle of wills waged not just between us, but within me. He would sit beside me, his gaze intense, boring into me with a possessive intensity that chilled me to the bone. His fingers would toy with the silver cuff binding my wrist – a constant reminder of his power, of my captivity. And in his eyes, I saw a strange mixture of possessiveness and carefully veiled regret, a regret that felt both genuine and manipulative. The regret was a weapon, a tool to disarm me, to make me question my righteous anger. My hatred for him warred with a desperate, shameful yearning for his touch, for the twisted comfort of his presence. This visit, however, felt different. He felt...different.
"You look pale, Elandra," he said, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down my spine, a dangerous blend of tenderness and threat. His hand reached out to me but paused mid-stride, and lowered back to the couch between us. "The child… is it well?" His concern for our child was genuine, of which I had no doubt. It was a testament to his unexpected paternal instincts, an endearing contrast to the ruthless predator he usually presented himself as. However, the concern never fully overshadowed the possessiveness, the underlying assertion of control.
His actions were a tangled web of cruelty and tenderness, a constant tug-of-war between his desire to possess me and a grudging respect for my strength. He would leave me gifts – exquisite paintings, rare books, even a small, hand-carved wooden doll for the child, but to me, those gifts were always tainted with a subtle threat, a reminder of my imprisonment.
Sighing, I looked away from his shimmering cerulean eyes - my favorite color- and lowered my chin. "I'm fine, Nik, please just leave me be."
His hands clenched into fists and he sat forward, elbows on his knees. Our conversations were a dangerous dance, a delicate balancing act on the razor's edge of love and hate. The unspoken accusations hung heavy in the air, fueling the ever-present tension. His silences were often more telling than his words, his presence a suffocating weight that reminded me constantly of my captivity, of his unwavering control over my life. Yet, within those silences, I detected a flicker of something else, something akin to vulnerability.
The air crackled, not with magic, but with barely contained fury. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence that followed Niklaus's outburst. He stood over me, the flickering candlelight painting harsh shadows across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the grim set of his mouth. The magical suppressant cuff, cold and restrictive on my wrist, felt like a physical manifestation of his anger.
"How-How can you still not see that this is for your good, Elandra," he spat, the words laced with a venom that belied the underlying tremor in his voice. "You were spiraling, losing control. Do you understand the danger you were in? The chaos you were unleashing?"
"Danger?" I retorted, my voice shaking despite my efforts at control. "It's my magic, Niklaus! I know how to handle myself. In no way was I unleashing chaos." I snarked, rolling my eyes at the absurdity of his statement. Waving my arms around, gesturing to the compound, I bared my teeth in frustration. "This... this cage you've built around me is far more dangerous!" I tugged at the cuff, the faintest shimmer of violet magic protesting against its binding. It wouldn't budge.
He took a step closer, his eyes burning with an intensity that both terrified and strangely comforted me. The room, usually a haven of calm, felt claustrophobic, the air thick with unspoken accusations. My anger warred with a deeper, more unsettling fear – a fear not of him, but of myself. Had I truly been out of control? The memory of the near-catastrophic surge of power, that had changed my very appearance settled in my mind, an acrid shadow of truth.
"You should know by now that I would never deliberately harm you," he growled, his voice softening slightly, almost reluctantly. He ran a hand through his soft blonde hair, and my fingers twitched to do the same. His usual impeccable composure frayed at the edges. "But I couldn't stand by and watch you destroy yourself. Or worse our child. Ive never seen you like this, El, and it's my fault...mine. Do you think I do not know that?"
Shame sent a tremble down my arms and into the palms of my hands, but I shook it out. "You could have talked to me," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the frantic rhythm of my pulse. "You could have told me the truth about Hay...that woman," I spat. The injustice of it all clawed at my throat, suffocating me. He'd always claimed to trust me, yet here I was, treated like a volatile, unpredictable force.
Shadows danced in the single shaft of afternoon sun slicing through the gloom of the lounge. His voice, a low growl that vibrated in the cavernous space, rasped, "When did you want me to talk, Elandra? How? You bolted. Vanished. Leaving us all; hiding something that's as much mine as yours!" His gaze, sharp and possessive, dropped to my swollen belly. A shudder, involuntary and deep, ran through me. He didn't wait for an answer. The words tore from him, raw and ragged, each syllable a painful expulsion. "Talking wouldn't have worked. You were lost, Elandra, drowning in anger, in grief, blinded by what I was forced to do. This… this was the only way. To save you. To save us."
His fingers, calloused but surprisingly gentle, brushed my cheek. The contact, a fleeting featherlight touch, sent a jolt of electricity – a raw, primal shock – down my spine. The air crackled, thick with unspoken accusations and buried longing. His eyes, the color of stormy seas, searched mine. A flicker of something – regret? Desperation? – crossed his face before vanishing. He whispered, the sound almost swallowed by the echoing silence, "I did it because I love you, Elandra. Even if you can't…won't… see it now." He stepped back, the distance between us widening, an abyss opening up, choked with the weight of unspoken words. As my hands shook, the cuff clinked against my skin, a constant reminder of his desperate, misguided love and my rebellious spirit.
The argument, unresolved, hung heavy in the air like the scent of spilled incense. I stared at him, my anger slowly giving way to a weary exhaustion. The cuff, for all its restriction, couldn't restrain the painful truth: his actions, however flawed, stemmed from a place of deep if misdirected, affection. And that knowledge, more than anything, wounded me most profoundly.
"It was for you, all of this was for you and our baby.," he whispered as if the words were supposed to melt into my skin and shatter the wall around my heart. "None of this was merely for me or our child. It was for you and your siblings. You felt weak and useless knowing I was, once again, out of your reach. Then when you discovered...this" I said, looking down at my worn body. "You were consumed by the vow of 'Always and Forever.' Admit it, Nik, when family becomes involved, you go a little...mad."
Scoffing, Niklaus twisted away, turning to look at the clear blue sky. "Must I always be the villain? How can you not see the change in you? Never before would you have treated me this way."
"I'm merely defending myself. Never before would you have pretended to cheat on me, get me into bed, and then break my heart. For my own good or not, that's pretty villainous, Niklaus, I taunted.
A heated golden glare was shot at me as he turned to glance at my blank expression. "Would you have rather I let you die again?" he genuinely asked. "I would have rathered you tell me what Esther revealed so that we could have made a plan together. A real plan, not this… charade. But instead, you chose to lie to me, and then cage me – to silence me – rather than trust me.
Niklaus chuckled darkly, his expression calm yet grim. "The irony isn't lost on me; I've always prided myself on my loyalty to you, on my unwavering commitment to our relationship, even when it meant compromising my own ideals. But then I was faced with a choice: betray everything I believe in, everything we've fought for, or lose you completely. And that was something I could not live with. So I chose the darker path, one I am sadly quite used to."
I watched his golden eyes shutter with sadness and felt my throat thicken with anger. Never would I hate anyone as much as I hated Esther.
With as much strength as I could muster, I placed a hand atop his warm stumbled cheek. "I only ever wanted your trust and faith Niklaus, I wish you would have come to me. "
He pulled my hand into his own, kissing my knuckles with such soft love, that I felt momentarily weightless. "I would rather have you both here safe than have lost you entirely. If that means I will never again hold your heart, then so bet it," he said with such finality the weight of his words anchored me to the floor.
With one last look, his eyes shadowed with determination and understanding, he walked away, leaving me behind with his final sentence and a pain in my heart that had never felt before.