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Klaus' POV
The storm had passed, leaving only the aftermath.
Caroline sat curled up in an armchair, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee laced with fresh blood—my offering, though I had said nothing of it aloud. The scent of her own blood still lingered in the air, but she was silent, staring into the dark liquid as if it held the answers to questions she wasn't yet ready to ask.
I poured myself a generous measure of bourbon, letting the amber liquid swirl in the glass before taking a slow sip. Rebekah took her own glass without a word, settling into the chair across from me, stretching her legs out in a way that spoke of exhaustion more than elegance.
A rare sight, indeed.
The silence stretched, filled only by the soft clink of glass against wood and the distant hum of the city outside. Caroline took a slow sip of her coffee—her sustenance—her fingers tightening around the ceramic as if grounding herself.
Rebekah was the first to break the silence.
"You know, Nik, I had half a mind to let Kol rip them apart," she mused, rolling the glass between her fingers. "Would've been poetic."
I exhaled a chuckle. "Poetic, perhaps. But Kol is a blunt instrument—too quick to kill, too quick to be satisfied. And as much as I enjoy the idea of ridding ourselves of certain pests, their suffering is far more delightful when it lingers."
Caroline stiffened ever so slightly but said nothing. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, noting the minute tremor in her hands before she forced herself to stillness. A mask, carefully crafted, but I had long since learned to see through them.
Rebekah sighed, leaning back. "Elena Gilbert, the self-proclaimed martyr. Do you think she even realizes how insufferable she is?"
Caroline made a sound—something between a scoff and a bitter laugh. "No. And even if she did, she wouldn't care."
Ah. There it was. The disillusionment, the fraying of old ties. Good.
Rebekah smirked. "A rude awakening for our dear Caroline?"
"More like a long-overdue one," I murmured, lifting my glass in a silent toast.
Caroline exhaled slowly, setting her mug down with deliberate care. "I just…" She hesitated, then shook her head. "It doesn't matter."
But it did. It mattered a great deal.
I studied her, noting the way her shoulders tensed, the way she averted her gaze as if unwilling to fully acknowledge the shift within her. She had suffered tonight. More than she had anticipated. More than she had ever deserved.
And yet, she was here.
Not with them.
With us.
Rebekah hummed. "So, what now? Do we let them slink away, licking their wounds, or do we make them bleed a little more?"
I smirked, swirling the bourbon in my glass. "Patience, little sister. Their punishment has only just begun."
Caroline frowned slightly but didn't protest.
A victory in itself.
The room was quiet save for the sound of liquid pouring into glass. Bourbon for me and Rebekah, coffee—laced with blood—for Caroline. She sat stiffly on the couch, fingers curled around the warm cup, her expression carefully schooled. But I knew better. Beneath that mask, her mind was racing, processing everything.
Kol had always been reckless with his words, but this time, his observations had merit. Elena's hypocrisy, her blatant disregard for the people who had suffered for her, was nothing short of appalling. And yet, none of her so-called friends would call her out on it.
But Caroline? She saw it. She had felt it.
Rebekah swirled the bourbon in her glass, watching Caroline over the rim. "She's rethinking everything, isn't she?"
"Of course she is," I muttered, taking a sip. "She's always been loyal to them, but loyalty should be earned, not blindly given."
Caroline's fingers tightened around the cup, but she said nothing. I knew she wouldn't—not yet. She had been through too much to let herself break down in front of us.
Rebekah scoffed. "Honestly, Nik, it's pathetic. That girl—Elena—has been given everything, handed devotion on a silver platter, yet she acts like the world revolves around her. While the rest of them…" She rolled her eyes. "Foolish. Weak."
I hummed in agreement, watching as Caroline finally lifted the cup to her lips and took a slow sip. The blood mixed in was subtle but effective. She needed it after what she'd been through. Her eyes flickered toward me, questioning, but she didn't push.
"You'll have to decide, love," I said, voice softer than before. "Where you stand. Who you stand with."
Caroline swallowed, placing the cup down with deliberate care. "I just… I don't know anymore," she admitted, voice quiet but steady. "Everything's different."
"Yes, it is." I leaned back, fingers tapping against my glass. "And pretending otherwise won't change a thing."
Rebekah arched a brow at Caroline. "So, what will you do?"
Caroline exhaled, running a hand through her hair. She didn't answer, but she didn't need to. The fact that she hadn't immediately defended them, hadn't dismissed our words, told me everything I needed to know.
She was already halfway out the door.
She just hadn't realized it yet.
Rebekah's POV
Caroline was silent, staring down at the cup in front of her. Her fingers curled around the porcelain, but she wasn't drinking anymore. Good. At least she was thinking.
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs as I took another sip of bourbon. The burn was comforting, familiar—unlike the mess we had just left behind.
Kol had been right, of course. Elena was a disaster, and Mystic Falls was a cesspool of melodrama disguised as loyalty. It was exhausting watching the same cycle play out—Elena screws up, everyone bends over backward to save her, and those who suffer for it are expected to get over it.
Caroline wasn't that stupid. Or at least, she wasn't anymore.
"You look like you want to say something," I said, swirling my drink.
Caroline blinked, snapping out of whatever daze she'd fallen into. "I don't know what to say."
I scoffed. "Please. You always have something to say."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "I just… I don't get it. How could she—how could they—" She shook her head, like even finishing the thought was impossible. "We were all in danger. We almost died. And she just ran to him like nothing happened."
"Because she doesn't care," I said bluntly. "Not about you. Not about Bonnie. Not about anyone who isn't worshipping her at that exact moment."
Caroline flinched, and for a second, I thought she might argue. But she didn't.
Instead, she exhaled, shaking her head. "It's not that simple."
"It is," Klaus murmured, his voice smooth and assured. "You're just not ready to admit it yet."
She swallowed hard, looking between the two of us like she was seeing us for the first time.
I smiled, raising my glass. "Welcome to reality, sweetheart."
Caroline didn't smile back.
But she didn't deny it, either.
And that was a start.
The silence stretched, thick and heavy, wrapping around the room like a noose. Klaus was watching her carefully, the way he always did when he saw someone teetering on the edge of a revelation. He loved these moments—the slow unraveling of carefully crafted illusions, the moment someone realized they'd been a fool.
And Caroline had been one.
Not an idiot, not in the way Elena and the others were, but a fool nonetheless. A fool for believing in loyalty that only worked one way, for giving her heart to people who never protected it.
I sighed, setting my drink down with a deliberate click against the table. "You're not stupid, Caroline. So why are you still trying to justify them?"
Her head snapped up, blue eyes sharp, but there was no real fight behind them. "I'm not—"
"Oh, but you are," I interrupted smoothly. "You want to believe there's some explanation, some reason why Elena's betrayal isn't actually betrayal, why Stefan's silence isn't cowardice, why Bonnie's absence doesn't mean she's just as complicit." I tilted my head. "But deep down, you already know."
She swallowed hard, her hands tightening around the cup again. "They're my friends."
"Were," Klaus corrected lazily, taking a slow sip of his bourbon. "Past tense, love."
Caroline looked down at her lap, fingers clenching in frustration. "It's not that simple."
"It is," I said with a smirk. "You're just making it complicated because the truth is ugly."
She scoffed, shaking her head. "Oh, and you two are such experts on friendship?"
Klaus chuckled. "No, but we are experts in betrayal."
That shut her up.
I sighed, leaning back into the plush chair. "Look, I get it. You want to believe they care about you the way you care about them. But if they did, they wouldn't have left you bleeding out while they ran off to fix Elena's mess."
Her breath hitched, just slightly.
Klaus smirked. "There it is."
She looked away, jaw clenched. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"Of course you don't," I said with a shrug. "Because if you talk about it, you'll have to admit that we're right. And if you admit that, then what? You cut them off? You walk away? And then what, Caroline? Where does that leave you?"
Silence.
She didn't have an answer.
Not yet.
Klaus studied her for a long moment before leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "We're not telling you to make a choice tonight, love. But sooner or later, you will have to decide where your loyalties truly lie. Because if you keep pretending, it'll destroy you."
Caroline exhaled sharply, rubbing at her temples. "I need some air."
She stood abruptly, setting her untouched coffee down. I watched her, curious if she would actually leave. But she hesitated at the door, fingers hovering over the handle.
A beat.
Then another.
And then, without another word, she stepped out onto the balcony, the night swallowing her whole.
Klaus chuckled under his breath, sipping at his drink. "She's breaking."
I rolled my eyes. "She's waking up."
"Same thing."
I shot him a look. "You're enjoying this way too much."
And why wouldn't he? He's attracted to her in a way Nik hasn't been attracted to any woman. It's been a thousand years since I've seen him so light, without the burden on his shoulders.
He doesn't realize how to accept that girl into his heart—or what he would do after that.
Uncertainty—the bane of Klaus Mikaelson.
I huffed a laugh.
He smirked. "Of course I am. It's always fascinating watching someone realize the truth."
I groaned, shaking my head. "You really are insufferable."
"And yet, you're still here."
I didn't dignify that with a response.
Instead, I glanced toward the balcony, where Caroline stood motionless, staring out over the wilderness. She looked small, lost. Like a girl who had just realized the home she'd built was nothing but a house of cards.
Good.
It was about time.
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So, I reread everything—except for the first few chapters where I was basically bungling around in the dark. The rest was... okay. But I can't keep slicing off flesh to serve wagyu-level beef only for it to end up a bite-sized portion with no substance.
As for the new chapters:I'll be posting all chapters up to Chapter 40, which were already available on Patreon.
Chapters 41 and 42 will come after I set a schedule for my work this week. That way, I can properly plan which fics to post on which days—because right now, my main focus is on this Daemon Targaryen fic and my main project, the one I haven't posted anywhere yet.
That fic is about Cregan Stark, the Bloody Wolf, son of Brandon Stark and Barbrey Ryswell. I've wanted to write it ever since I read Reborn into Wild Westeros, but I haven't been able to—not because of lack of interest, but because lordly duties (aka worldbuilding and making things make sense) are a pain. If you don't write them, things fall apart. If you do write them, they risk being boring as hell.
You can support me on
P@treon/LUCIFER482(replace the @ with an "a").
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free members - ch 41
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