#klaus mikaelson x oc fanfiction | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

spicy30 · 17 days ago

Text

Lycanthropy

Pairing(s): Cregan Stark x Fem!OriginalHybrid Reader, Bennard Stark (Uncle of Cregan Stark) x x Fem!OriginalHybrid Reader

Crossover: TDV/TO→HOTD

cw: graphic scenes (violence) major age gap (Reader is 1000+) PTSD, Self-resentment, unnecessary cruelty, Stockholm syndrome???

Rating: 18+

Add-ons: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, reader is NOT sentimental, Slow-burn

2/2

(Not Proofread)

WC: 11.7K

A deep guttural sound ripped from your throat. You clawed at your clothes ripping them off. It was cold here. Where that witch had sent you, you didn’t know, but here you were in cold white woods.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want your bones breaking. You didn’t want to hear as your screams morphed into growls. You didn’t want to be a hybrid. You yelled out cursing Klaus for dragging you down with him.

Never once did you ever want to acknowledge you were a bastard. You had been such a daddy’s girl even if he did not love you as much as you loved him. It did not change that in your heart Mikael had been your father, you still wanted him to be your father, even if he did want to kill you all.

That is how you phrased it.

Mikael wanted to kill everyone, not just you. It wasn’t personal. Your father didn’t just hate you. You couldn’t have been a bastard.

Yet here you were crying out in pain as you grasped at the trees as each bone in your body broke and rearranged itself. Here you were feeling as your eyesight was impossibly enhanced and you could see in ways you never did before. Here you were feeling as your fangs grew larger than ever before. Here you were smelling everything, including the nearby town filled with women and children who were crawling around like maggots. You hadn’t felt this strong in centuries. Not since you first tasted human blood, not since you ripped apart your first human in an attempt to sedate this inhumane hunger that now consumed you.

You let out one final yell in agony before it turned completely into a snarl.

It’ll be a massacre.

You tore through men, women, and children alike. You had never feasted on human flesh before, only their blood. It was pure animal instinct, this urge to kill, this urge to rip out the insides of anything and anyone that moved. Your favorite part was the heart. The muscle was partially fun to chew through. The blood vessels seemed to pop in your mouth as you drank the blood. You couldn’t count how many heads you ripped off, how many people you tore in half, how many infants you chewed through feeling their mushy heads burst under your teeth.

It all felt so good. You ran through the cold woods, heading towards the next town that would sedate these cruel desires that were forced to lay dormant for near millennia.

…

“I heard the thing tore right through Torrhen's Square then the next day it slaughtered everything in sight in the Deepwood Motte. Not even the babes were spared.” You perked up angling your ear to the voices.

“May the gods give them rest. A stroke of ill fortune to be in the beast's way.” A gruff voice spoke out. “The beast leaves the bodies half-eaten. It eats hearts and other times eats the belly of the person leaving them torn in half, but in all the babes, it only ever eats the head. The monstrosity is hunting for sport.” The gruff voice spat out.

“We’ll see how well it hunts when I use the skin of the beast as a coat and its head hangs in the Great Hall.” Another spoke, this one seemed to be the head of the hunting group.

Your tongue licked your snout, cleaning off blood from your latest kill, though it seemed you just found the newest batch of victims.

Running towards them using your supernatural speed you reached them in no time. You leaped out taking the head of one clean off.

The only thing the men heard was the plop of something behind them. Rickon Stark turned to see one of his men without a head. Instinctually he went to stand in front of his son, Cregan. It had been a mistake to bring Cregan.

Rickon knew he should’ve left him behind. He was his only heir. The only one he had left since his youngest son died in childhood. He had to protect Cregan. He looked around for the creature and his men drew their swords.

A soft crunch was heard and Rickon turned to face the thing. A wolf. A wolf the color of sunlit ivory that seemed to glow with dawn itself. In its mouth held the head of his fallen comrade. The wolf closed its jaw and the crunching of the skull was heard as the wolf dropped the now disfigured head.

Rickon watched in horror as his men charged and in what seemed to be the blink of an eye all of them were on the floor bleeding out crying out for mercy. One was clutching his throat which had a chunk ripped out. Another was holding the inside of his thigh as blood sputtered out in ways Rickon had never seen and the other had his head caved in. The last one, however, forced Rickon to put his hand out covering Cregan’s eyes as he watched in horror as the wolf pulled the organs out and the body laid out, nearly bit in half.

The wolf turned its sights on him and for the first time since his first battle, his hands trembled as he held his sword. The wolf lunged at him and before he could blink Rickon felt teeth biting into his internal organs. He looked down as the wolf opened its jaw making the hole in his stomach bigger. The thing had rammed its snout so hard into him that it punctured a hole in him. Rickon was already dead. He knew this, however, his son was not. Rickon grabbed the fur of the wolf and pulled it towards him as he steered himself away from Cregan. The wolf jerked itself while its snout remained inside Rickon.

He gritted his teeth and yelled as he brought up his Valyrian steel sword, Ice, and drove it down on the wolf. It gave out a cry.

“An abomination!” He yelled out and he felt the wolf pause from its jerking.

“You are an abomination.”

Familiar words echoed in your head.

“That is a pretty dress.” You smiled inching forward towards the maiden. “You were always so good at making them. I asked you for one, remember?”

The girl in front of you began crying. “I promise I’ll make you one! Just please! Please have mercy.”

“No, I want the one you have on. Give it to me.” Dark veins pooled under your eyes as you felt your fangs protrude. Why your family hated this, you could not say. You loved the power it gave. No one could stand in your way, no one could say no anymore.

“Now?” The girl asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, now. Take it off and give it to me.” Though you had yet to kill anyone, if this girl took any longer she would be your first. You watched in amusement as tears streamed down her face as she trembled. As you continued to watch her your smile faded. She moved like a tortoise.

“What will I wear?” Your patience snapped at her question and in the blink of an eye you sunk your teeth into her as she screamed. You pulled her head away for better access, though in your excitement you pulled her head too much and it ripped off. Her blood splattered all over your pretty yellow dress.

You dropped the body and held the head in your hand tilting your head to the side.

“Imbecile. You made me rip off your head and ruin the dress.” You murmured before drop-kicking the head off into the woods. You grinned and kicked her headless body with such force that you heard the snap of the spin as it was flung into the woods.

You turned to walk away before your leg broke under sending you crashing to the ground. You screamed out in pain. Just as quickly as it broke, it healed and as you went to stand up your arm broke and once more you screamed.

As your bones kept breaking your screams echoed through the forest. You looked up seeing your mother looking at you as if you were a monster. Your father was not far behind as your collar bone snapped. Blood filled your every sense, blood on your mouth from your first kill, the smell of it, the feel of the warm sticky blood felt disgusting on your overly sensitive skin, however, the worst was your sight. When you looked up to your father, he had a look of disgust as he looked towards you, every single crease of disappointment on his face you could see as your vision sharpened.

“You are an abomination.” The words came out of your father's mouth. The same words that had been told to Niklaus when it was discovered what he was. A bastard, and now here you were proven to be another fruit of your mother’s frolicking.

You cried and begged saying that it wasn’t true. You screamed and cried as they tied you to the same post-Niklaus had been on. Though as you cried you did not fight him and instead were willing to let yourself be tied. Niklaus was the only one who fought against your father. You yelled to Niklaus to let you be. That you were not a bastard like him, that this was a mistake. You loved your father and your father loved you.

You kept repeating those words over and over as the ceremony to lock away the ugly parts of you that you swore did not exist, proceeded.

You tore yourself out of the man who repeated those same words to you. You inched backward trying to get the sword out of you.

“Cregan, my son! You must go, run back to Winterfell! Go!” Your eyes darted to the boy who stood there in terror. He looked no older than twelve or thirteen. As if you finally came back to yourself to overpower that animalistic instinct to kill you stood still watching the father cry out to his son. Pleading for him to leave, saying that he loved him.

It tugged at a heart string though it was quickly overtaken as the father pulled his sword out of you and you let out a yelp that now sounded more human. By accident, you slammed your paw down and it caved in the man’s chest and consequently his heart.

Cregan looked over to his father who whispered out a final ‘I love you’ before he died. He saw steam rise from the gaping hole in his father’s stomach and the wolf pulled its paw out of his father’s chest. Piercing amber eyes met Cregen’s gray ones. Those eyes, they looked ravenous.

Cregan does not know why his body moved the way it did but all he knows is that he was swinging down Ice on the wolf’s body like one would chop wood.

He heard the wolf’s cry though it was a disturbing cry. It almost sounded human under the wolf’s cry. It was as if a woman was crying out in agony along with the wolf. Cregan kept swinging the sword as blood splattered over him, on his eyes, his mouth, his face, his clothes, and his hands which made it hard to hold the large sword that was much too big for him. Ice nearly cut the wolf in half. It only clung together by skin.

“Cregan!” At the sudden shout of his name and the blood that coated his hands and the hilt, Ice slipped from his grasp. He turned around to face his uncle, Bennard Stark, and his three sons; Benjen, Brandon, and Elric Stark.

They stood still as they watched him. There he stood covered in wolf’s blood and a nearly cut-in-half wolf lying under him. Bennard Stark rushed over to him picking up Ice and dragging Cregan away from the bloody scene. Cregan only looked towards his uncle with blank eyes and trembling hands.

“What happened to Cregan?” His uncle asked him and he could not find it in him to speak so he pointed to the wolf, though to his utter horror, it was gone, only a bloody trail was left. It was impossible for anything to survive that. The wolf’s body only clung together by skin! Cregan was sure.

“Benjen, Brandon, Elric follow the trail. If you find it, cut the damn head off.” His uncle commanded and Cregan shook his head. They would die, if that thing survived its injuries and was restored to its former form, his cousins would be dead in seconds.

…

You had managed to get away, but just barely. The sword that little twat used slowed down your healing exponentially, though your spine reconnected but just barely so that you were able to crawl your way out of there. Your supernatural speed in the use of crawling had gotten you at least a mile away. You panted and cried each time you dragged yourself forward dirt and rocks were lodged into your lower half, inside of you slowing your healing even more.

Your cry became less wolf and more human as you dragged yourself forward eager to get to the town you smelled. You need to feed and fast. The next time you clawed forward a human hand showed with long claws instead of a wolf’s paw.

As time passed you reverted to your human form yet you were still nearly cut in half, this time you didn’t have fur to shield you against the cold of the snow. Your ears picked up steps, not far from you and you cried out for help. An old woman and a young man came running and she screamed. The man hugged the woman shielding her from the view.

“Help me. Please…” You begged. They weren’t close enough for you to compel them.

“How are you alive?” The young man questioned looking down at your naked body and the dark and dirty entrails that spilled out of you though there was no more blood to leak out of you, the vampire side of you kept you alive.

“Just help me.” You begged once more. Finally, the man let go of the old woman who you assumed was his mother, and cautiously crept over to you. As he bent down you looked up making eye contact with him.

“Give your arm and don’t scream.” You compelled and the man wordlessly gave you his arm and you bit into it.

The woman screamed for her son and you let go. “Get your mother and bring her to me.” You compelled him once more and he grabbed his mother harshly bringing her to you.

“Shut up and wrap me with your coat.” You compelled her as well and continued feasting on the man’s arm. Stopping you waited for your healing to increase, but it didn’t, it kept healing at a slow pace only just barely keeping you alive.

“Damn it.” You muttered. You looked up and gave an order for the man to pick you up and take you to their home.

As you entered the small village you looked around and then smelled the air. You’d recognize that smell anywhere. You had lived in it for nine centuries.

Just what had that little Bennet witch done to you?

You looked up towards the man who held you. “Invite me in.” You told him and he did. They set you down on their dining table. “Rinse me and sew me back together.” Wordlessly the man and his mother left and you were left on the table looking down. It was disgusting to see. Part of your liver and large intestine were beginning to form again. The man came in with a bucket of water and the woman with a needle and string.

You clenched your jaw. No way in hell were you staying awake for this. “You’ll shut your mouth about all of this and you will stay by my side until I command it otherwise.” You compelled them both and they began to start preparing for their work. Just as the man went to clean your dirty entrails you stopped them.

“Wait, break my neck first, then work and if I wake and you are not done, break it again.” You told the man and he went and made quick work of you.��

The next time you woke you were screaming in pain. Your spine was fully intact now and that meant all of your nerves were now reconnected. Just as quickly as you woke, you felt your neck snap and once more you fell into darkness.

The next time you woke your body was whole again, but you could still feel your insides rearranging themselves slowly. That damned sword. What had they used? Had it been anything else you would’ve been fine by now. You looked down to see stitches circling your torso keeping it together. You stayed there on the table shivering from the cold air. When was the last time you were this cold?

As a vampire, you never felt the cold, you were dead. What has this new side done to you? Damn, Klaus, you had begged him to leave you be. You could care less about this ugly side of you. You’d rather not relive the moments where you were deemed a bastard. This new side of you, made you aggressive, much like how you first were when you were a vampire. You thought back to your time as a wolf. Every single kill, you remembered. The burst of blood in your mouth, the skulls crushed in your jaw, the crying of the women and children. The men who charged at you only to be killed a second later.

However, the most vivid memory was of the scared little boy whose father you slaughtered in front of him. Why him out of all the people you felt sorry for, you couldn’t say. You probably could’ve killed him and spared yourself this suffering, but you let the boy do this to you. A punishment for being the monster that your father always said you were. Revenge for what you did to his father, justice for the lives you took.

You clenched your jaw but felt something sharp stab the inside of your mouth. You picked your teeth to pull out the thing that stabbed you. As you inspected it you sighed disappointment. A piece of skull. You threw it to the side and simply laid it on the table.

An abomination your father said.

You had killed families, infants, mothers, fathers, and seniors, no one was spared but the boy. You were not your brothers. You were not Klaus, or Kol, or even Elijah for how noble he pretended to be. Your siblings never felt regret for their killings.

But you did. You were different. Right? Your father did not just hate you. You were kind before. You felt remorse. You were NOT an abomination.

A debt was owed. A human life was not long in the span of all eternity. You could do the right thing and repent. You were not like Niklaus. You would not remain guilty of the sins your father had condemned you for.

What was the boy’s name again, you tried to recall? You walked through the memories of blood and carnage.

“Cregan, my son! You must go, run back to Winterfell! Go!”

Cregan. That's what it was. Cregan from Winterfell.

“Where is Winterfell?” You asked out loud knowing your newest slaves were never too far from you.

“Only a half a day’s ride away. Just East of here.” The woman spoke as she sewed flowers on the dress you had told her to make you.

“And who is Cregan?” You asked again.

“Cregan? He is the heir of Winterfell, oldest of Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of North.” The old woman answered once more. You gave out a hum of approval as you laid back on the table shivering slightly as the cold air washed over your naked and broken body.

…

At only thirteen years old Cregan succeeded his father. He sat in the Great Hall in the chair his father used to sit in and in his lap laid Ice. He felt the metal rest heavy on him. A large sword fit for a large man, yet here he was, only a boy holding a sword fit for a man. All because a wolf had taken his father away from him.

A Dire Wolf that was on their banner and represented House Stark. Yet it was a wolf that killed his father. Every night since then he has slept with Ice. That demon wolf was out, somewhere, lurking. He would not rest soundly until that wolf’s head sat hung in the Great Hall like his father wanted and he used the coat to clothe himself.

Cregan sat in the Great Hall with a permanent scowl on his face as he listened to the Lords speak. His uncle sat next to him. He would reign as regent until his fifteenth name-day. Two years, two years would be enough to hunt down that beast.

“My Lord, I present you with a gift. You have lost your father, I will give you someone who can deliver the support a man needs.” Cregan looked up towards Lord Tallhart, his holdfast had been the first to ravage the beast. “I bring you someone who has managed to bring stability once more to Torrhen's Square, now I give her to you, My Lord.” The doors opened and Cregan watched as a woman walked in. A golden ivory dress she wore. The same color as the wolf. That color was forever ingrained in his mind. He watched you walk in and bow. There was something about you that seemed familiar. Something about the way you carried yourself and the way you spoke. It puts him on edge like he should be wary of you.

“I thank you Lord Tallhart, but my nephew has no needs that can be taken care of by a woman. For that, he shall have a wife.” His uncle spoke and Cregan watched your eyes narrow at his uncle.

“Of course, I would never dare to insinuate such a thing. However, I do not give her for duties that a simple whore can manage if one so desires. This woman can offer support unlike anyone, if you are displeased with her I will gladly take her back.” Argued Lord Tallhart. “I implore you to take her.”

Cregan watched as Lord Tallhart vehemently argued for you. What kind of support did you offer? Cregan was well aware of the things whores did for men, his half-sister was born due to these ‘supports’ whores offered. Cregan signed and agreed to take you if it would stop this incessant arguing.

He watched you bow and meet his eyes. Your eyes were sharp and familiar. What kind of support would you offer this young lord?

After the meeting was conducted Cregan walked the halls of the castle holding Ice close to him. He was often allowed to leave due to still being in his mourning period. As he walked these halls that seemed so big and dark to him he felt the wind brush his hair. He gripped Ice tighter and turned around only to see no one there. No servants roamed these halls, there was no one here but him. He sighed and kept forward with a tight grip on Ice. As he turned once more he heard the air rustling behind him. This time Cregan unsheathed Ice. He stayed still looking around, was the wolf back? No, why would the wolf be here, in the castle? The wolf could not be here.

The wolf was not here.

Cregan felt his breath escape him. He held on to Ice so hard that it made the sword shake. He sheathed the sword trying to calm himself. The wolf was not here. Should anyone see him holding out Ice ready to strike air they would call him mad. The heir to Winterfell cannot be mad.

The wolf is not here.

He didn’t feel safe here. He needed to get to his father's chambers. As Cregan walked through the dark halls, he felt as if something was watching. Something that shouldn’t be here. Something that shouldn’t exist here. Something that was displaced and had no right to be here and it was watching him.

The wolf.

It echoed in his head. The wolf echoed in his head. The promise of love his father had told him. Cregan’s steps grew hurried. He ran through that dark hallway to get to his father’s chamber room.

There was something on Cregan’s heel as he ran. Something was breathing down his neck.

Cregan turned the corner and hit something and when he looked up he felt as if those same ravenous amber eyes of the wolf looked down on him. His breath was caught as he looked up at you. He couldn’t move as he looked at you. His hands spasmed as he tried to grab onto Ice for stability.

It wasn’t until he was eye to eye with you and your calming words that he felt his breath come back to him. When you spoke it felt like a cool river rushed through his veins covering his body.

“Are you alright, my lord?” you asked, reaching out a hand. Cregan nodded and took your hand. It was soft and warm; you almost seemed unnaturally warm. There was an underlying fear Cregan had of you, and he couldn’t explain why, yet he felt as if he could not respond accordingly. “Shall I accompany you to your chambers?” you asked, and Cregan shook his head. If anything, he needed to get away from you.

You watched as Cregan left you behind. You sighed in annoyance. All you wanted to do was a little repenting to make yourself feel better, but this brat wasn’t letting you do it and of course, you couldn’t just compel him, it had to be natural, despite the fact you just compelled him to calm down, but that was different, the kid was gasping as if he was drowning.

However, the look in his eyes. You knew that look anywhere.

Fear.

It radiated off him in waves. He knew you, he recognized you.

A cruel smile bloomed on your face and you felt your vision sharpen and lock onto the fleeting figure of Cregan. You dug your fingernails into your palm drawing blood. You breathed in his scent of fear. You grabbed onto the wall next to you. You had to stay put and calm down. The stone cracked under your strength. Damn, Klaus, it has taken you a near century to get your impulses under control. Amongst your siblings, and even Klaus, your thirst for blood was unmatched. That first century of learning to control yourself was pain. You would watch as your siblings would spill as much as they so wished while you were forced to stand on the sidelines eating scraps. Your hunger for blood drew you to rip heads off, even if you didn’t want to. It was an animalistic urge that, unfortunately, ran a lot stronger in you than in any of your other siblings.

It proved to be a problem. In only fifty years the rumors of your bloodshed reached worldwide, and thus The Brotherhood of the Five were born to kill you and your siblings and unfortunately, gave Klaus the weapon to put your siblings to sleep. Once Finn was put to sleep as a consequence of your actions, your siblings, Klaus included, put you down and forced you to get your appetite under control. You had been clean for nearly nine centuries, it would’ve been millennia had it not been for the slip-up in the 20s with the introduction of another who was like you.

Stefen Salvator.

Your brother let you loose along with Stefen, and when your fun ended once more your animalistic urges were put down, like ripping out the claws of an animal. To take the claws from a predator is to leave it bare to the world.

While your siblings were free to turn whomever they wanted once again you were forced to sit on the sidelines and watch. Your blood was infected with this disease of being unable to control your hunger. They say when freedom fades, even sunlight feels pale and so the lines you sired were always put down like lambs to slaughter.

You were never allowed to love another knowing you would always have to ask for someone else to turn them, lest they turn out to be a monster like you. You never understood why Rebekah asked when she simply could. It was a luxury you did not have yet your little sister never used.

And now here you were, alone in the world, with no brothers or sisters to keep you in check, no father to hunt you down. Nothing to kill you. This bastard side of you was pulling you. Bad enough you had already torn through towns, who would help you overcome this?

There was no one here. You’d have to rely on yourself and your will, but there was never much of that.

…

Weeks passed and Cregan continued to avoid you like a plague. You made his hair stand on end. There was something about you that wasn’t quite right. Your smiles were saccharine yet Cregan was never one for sweets. You were indeed helpful and your knowledge of medicine was unmatched. He understood why the Lord Tallhart said you were like a pillar. In only a few short weeks you had become the backbone of Winterfell. Sickness had always run rampant in Winterfell due to the cold, but with you, those colds seemed to disappear. You always seemed to be the one everyone was looking for.

Yet despite all of that Cregan couldn’t shake the anxiousness that you brought him whenever he looked at you.

Today was no different, once more you had gone out to do charity work for the commons, cured illnesses, and healed broken bones, and Cregan stayed far away from you. At first, even his uncle stayed far away from you and in turn, also had Cregan keep a distance from you, but now, as he looked at his uncle talking to you with more interest than a married man should, it seems his uncle has also fallen.

Though Cregan thinks his uncle is far too old for you. You looked to be around Cregan’s age, if not only a couple of summers older.

“My Lord, we have looked in the Wolfswood, there is no sight of the beast. You said it to be a sunlit ivory, we have not encountered any wolves of that coloring. Winter is coming and all the wolves are white here in the North.” Cregan listened and subconsciously gripped Ice.

“Mayhaps it has perished with its injuries.” The man spoke and Cregan shook his head.

“There would be a corpse, why is there not a corpse?” Cregan gritted his teeth. He hasn’t been able to sleep these past few weeks. He always felt as if the wolf were watching him and it terrified him more than he’d like to admit.

“My nephew only wishes to exact revenge on the Wolf that took his father, my brother, your late lord. Find the wolf. Perhaps it has gone South. I saw the coat myself. That wolf is no Northern wolf, it might’ve found its way to the Hornwood forest or even The Neck’s forest.” His uncle, Bennard Stark spoke. He knew his uncle only wished for the best. If his uncle did not back him on this, it would give the appearance that Cregan is mad with grief and riddled with fear of a wolf and Starks do not fear wolves.

Cregan clenched his jaw as he entered his chambers and dressed himself in his night clothes. He laid down on the bed that once belonged to his mother and father, Ice was never far from him as he thought about his next actions. He could not rest until he knew the wolf was dead for sure. There Cregan lay in his father’s bed trying to forget the snarling the wolf gave out, the cries it screamed. Slowly but surely Cregan fell into an uneasy slumber.

A wolf’s howl sounded and Cregan shot out of bed gripping Ice as he looked around the room that was lit by the fireplace in his chambers he could not see anything. But once again he heard the howl of a wolf. He breathed heavily before he felt his throat tighten. He was Cregan Stark, heir to Winterfell. He could not fear wolves, yet he was feeling as if were going to cry because of the howling of a wolf.

Once more he felt his breath escape him as he held his face in his hands.

A knock sounded and Cregan could not gather enough breath to tell them to leave him. He looked over and swore he saw amber eyes in the darkness. He crawled away unsheathing Ice holding it towards the door. He watched as you walked in with what he saw as false concern and your hands up.

“My lord, are you alright?” You asked, looking at the terrified boy. “Calm yourself.”

Every time you spoke to him, he fell into a trance—a trance that was impossible to escape. Your voice scraped the edges of silence, stirring shadows that lay dormant in his mind.

“Who are you?” He whispered trying to resist your calling. He listened as your words danced around in his mind and fog invaded his senses.

Cregan doesn’t remember much from that night or any nights that follow afterward. All he knows is that every night you enter his chamber rooms and the next morning he is awake sleeping through the entire night without a single dream.

One thing does not change, however. His fear of you does not leave him. Not even as you dress him, prepare his bath, bring his meals, brush his hair, or even as you tell him stories of what you depict as love.

“And so the little brother who doomed his family swore off love for everyone and once more the six siblings ran away.” You finished as you finished the last button on Cregan’s coat.

“How old are you?” He shivered at your unnaturally warm touch. You looked down on him and once more gooseflesh pebbled his skin. Cregan believes that he will always fear them.

“Old enough to know that you will be late to break your fast if you do not go.” You always did that. You never really told him anything about yourself. Not your age or where you came from. He didn’t even know if you had a father or a mother, but he’s sure you have siblings. The stories you tell him are always about five siblings, sometimes six. You spoke with fondness, like how he would if he spoke about his younger brother.

As he went to walk out he turned around only to see you tending to his bed. He walked out of his room, however, something compelled him to seek you once more. As he reached the room he gave a sharp gasp. The air whistled within the room. The same whistle that tormented him that day in the hall. He swallowed his fear and looked inside. He didn’t know what to expect. What would he do?

Cregan felt his hand twitch for Ice. Ice was nowhere near him. Ever since you had lulled him to sleep that night he no longer reached for Ice as he once did. What if this confirmed everything he thought of you? What did he even think of you? As he looked his brows furrowed. There you were putting Ice on a counter then you went to put out the fire. It wasn’t what you were doing that confused him, what left him puzzled was that it had been seconds since he stepped out and yet his bed had already been made.

That should’ve been impossible. No maid could make a bed that fast, yet in front of his eyes, his bed had been made. He took a step backward shaking his head. It wasn’t right. You weren’t right. There was something about you. Something about you that was unnatural.

Cregan turned away quickly and walked down the dark hall, this whistle of the air a faint sound.

…

Your teeth grazed the neck of the sleeping boy. You felt the heat radiating off his body and you could practically taste his blood. He still reeked of fear but being this close to him. His blood tastes sweet, almost too sweet or so you would imagine. There is something about these Starks, their blood holds something that they have never tasted before. You have tasted the blood of vampires, werewolves, doppelgangers, humans, and the blood of the Brotherhood five, but the closest you can imagine Cregan’s tasting like is the blood of witches. Like a sweet thick flavor with a slight burn. The burn was stronger with Stark blood. You had fed off of Bennard Stark once. Nearly ripped the man apart.

It was addicting. It ignited that animalistic urge that you now tamed by burning yourself.

You panted desperately trying to keep yourself in control and keeping your groans as quiet as possible as your skin bubbled from the heat of the fire trying to tear yourself away from Cregan’s neck.

You whimpered as your skin ripped and the blisters on your hand popped. You tore your hand away from the fire and yourself away from his neck. A deep sense of disgust began to fill your being as you stared at the peaceful sleeping figure of Cregan. You dug your nails into your palm and quickly made your way into your bedroom.

On your bedside was a piece of cloth submerged in a bowl. As you reached inside the bowl a single sounded as your skin began to burn and smoke rose. You gave another whimper as you grabbed the cloth and rung it out before balling it up and stuffing it in your mouth. You nearly scream as you feel the burning on the inside of your mouth and some of the water goes down your throat burning you from the inside.

In another bowl, there was a rope submerged in the same liquid. Undoing your dress you trembled for what was to come, you trembled from the cold, and from the burning sensation that has yet to stop.

You stood naked as tears fell from your eyes and muffled cries sounded. You grabbed the wet rope trying to bear the burning on your hand. You whipped it backwards and it struck your back and a loud singe was heard along with a muffled scream.

You whipped yourself with the vervain-laced rope and choked on the cloth that was soaked in wolf’s bane.

It was the only way. The only way to sedate this urge, this bastardy that plagued you. It was the way you were put down by your siblings. The only way disgust would not consume you. You would not stop until your back was raw until all the skin on your body was new. Shedding of the old skin for new. A new beginning.

As your skin bubbles and pops you think back to Cregan and the fear he emits anytime you look at him. Another crack of your makeshift whip sounds and once more you cry out before clamping down on the soaked cloth and wolf’s bane is squeezed out burning you. There had to be another way, another way to make him feel at ease that was not by compulsion.

Your head.

You cried into cloth and tears streamed down your cheeks mixing with the wolf’s bane. It slid down your throat and burned until your wolf’s bane tear fell on the top of your breasts, burning them.

The only thing that would possibly calm Cregan was your head, more specifically the head of your wolf form.

You felt your legs give you under you as you gave a final whip to your back. As you fell forward your temple hit the sharp end of your bedside table. You let go of the rope and grabbed your temple as your world spun and your sight went in and out. The only thing keeping you conscious was the healing of your raw back, however, both bowls spilled on top of you and you screamed as the burning liquid soaked your entire backside and for the first time in a century you passed out from the pain.

You nearly gagged from the overpowering scent of wolf’s bane and vervain. You opened your eyes and looked over to see Cregan sitting there with Ice firmly in his hand.

“What were you doing?” You heard him mumble out though your eyes only zeroed in on the light scratched on his neck from your teeth. Tearing your eyes away from his neck you looked at the boy who only kept eye contact for a couple of seconds before looking away. You heard the way his hands gripped Ice. Disgust crept onto you once more.

“I have to go home.” You sighed out looking away from Cregan. If it was your gaze he feared then you would not look. “My brother…” Though you craved to see his widened gray eyes and the slight wobble of his lips as he spoke to you. You shut your eyes. “My siblings. I need to go home for a little bit.” You bit your tongue and turned to him and he turned his gaze down towards Ice. A small sense of satisfaction filled you.

“Why?” You hear him ask. It was small and meek. You tilt your head slightly before shutting your eyes and turning your face away from him. Only then did you hear the grip on his handle on Ice lessen.

“Because…I miss them,” There was a tone change towards the end of your sentence. Almost as if you were asking a question. You simply needed to leave.

Did you miss your siblings?

You hadn’t seen Finn in over nine centuries or Kol for two. The last you had seen of Rebekah was in the twenties. Elijah and Klaus kept you on a tight leash since you couldn’t be daggered, not like Klaus would. Despite his constant badgering about telling you to keep your hunger under control, he would shove humans your way and pretend to not see when you ripped them apart. It was like when you were both little and he would give you extra pieces of bread under the table during dinner then claiming he didn’t know anything about the crumbs on the side of your face.

Elijah despised this and was constantly on you to keep clean. You were always a messy eater. When Klaus would fail to keep you under control it would be up to him to dirty himself to bathe you in Vervain, just like how he would clean up the crumbs on the side of your face so that father would not see.

Were they looking for you? Did Elijah really kill Klaus? He wouldn’t. Not even if Elijah really wanted to. If he truly killed Klaus then he would have no one. Not even you, not the way you are now. Maybe you did miss them, even if it was only a little.

“How many siblings do you have?” Once more his quiet voice sounded. Cregan was quite talkative today. It would've been great if it wasn’t for the constant waft of Wolf’s Bane and Vervain.

“Seven, though I never met my oldest sister. She died in childhood a couple of years before I was born. I do not even know her name. However, currently, I have two. Elijah and Niklaus. The rest…are gone.” You would never see your siblings again. According to your little brother —Niklaus— they were buried at sea. Maybe Elijah would kill him for that.

“What happened?” You fought the urge to look over towards Cregan, lest he turn away from you. Though as you began to think of how to explain your family and how your siblings weren’t dead but they might as well be you fought the urge to smile. This would be perfect.

“My youngest brother, Henrik was killed by wolves.” You heard Cregan perk up as you kept your eyes closed trying to keep your smile down. “My brother Niklaus took him to see wolves hunting. Unfortunately, the wolves did not capture their prey and instead mauled my brother to death.” Slowly you opened your eyes and turned to face him ever so slightly. Cregan this time did not turn away. You both stayed like that. Simply looking at each other and once more disgust plagued your body. You had nearly bitten into him last night.

“What about…your other siblings?” He whispered once more. You took in a deep breath and looked up with a bitter smile.

“My eldest brother Finn was…” How could you explain to him that your family was tired of his constant badgering? Though you never were one to mind it. Your entire family constantly berated you for your tendencies. Finn, despite his demeanor towards the rest of your family, was surprisingly more understanding of you. He made his comments to you every now and then, though he seemed to understand that you simply could not control it. Finn was the only one to never judge you or condemn you. There were times throughout the centuries when you almost successfully pulled the dagger out of Finn or simply stayed beside his body.

Klaus and Elijah would tighten your leash whenever you got too close to him.

“Put down for…crimes against my family.” You decided that was the best way to frame it and you heard the slight shift in Cregan’s posture. “My brother Kol was very…wild and it got him put down as well.” Technically they weren’t dead, but they might as well be. “Finally my little sister Rebekah…fell in love with the wrong person.” There were more people than people but he didn’t need to know that.

“Why did you leave?” So many questions he had.

“My two brothers began to fight. I stayed with Niklaus at first, but then I left for my brother Elijah. Niklaus was not happy with me but in the end forgave me…soon after,” You struggled to come up with something that would explain your presence. It’s not like you were here by choice. “I was brought here. To the North I mean and now I’d like to go home for a bit. See my brothers.”

…

It was strange not having you here. You had been gone only a week yet a crucial part of his routine was now missing.

You were missing.

In the end, Cregan had let you go. He was never planning to deny you, but it was the most he learned of you throughout your entire time here and while a part of him did feel more at ease with you gone there was a strange yearning for your return.

How strange it was.

How strange it was to have you speak to him at night and lull him to sleep with your stories only for him to never be able to recall them in the morning. How strange it was to have other maids dress him instead of you. How strange it was to never carry Ice as much as he did.

However, what was most strange was that he constantly thought of you. The fog that used to cloud his mind seemed to be gone if only for a little while.

Cregan picked at his food looking out the window into the Wolf’s wood. Suddenly his cousins burst into the dining room with blood-soaked armor. All three of them had such bright smiles. Cregan pushed his food away standing to greet them while his uncle reprimanded them for their poor manners.

“Father, look! Here cousin we brought you a gift!” Elric pulled out a red-stained gold ivory coat. A wolf’s hide. Cregan’s breath hitched and he gripped onto Ice.

“By Viserys, what is that?” His uncle swore. “You didn’t clean it!? Where is the head? Did you cut off the head?”

As his cousins explained how they caught the wolf, Cregan felt as if his ears were being plugged with cotton. All he could do was try and reclaim the breath that seemed to escape him. He felt sick. The taste of the chicken was fresh in his mouth. The white glossy meat and the waft of it nearly made him vomit.

Breath.

Even when you were gone you helped him. Your voice was clear and echoed in his head and suddenly his breath returned to him.

“Where’s the head?” His voice took on such a tone that he had never mustered before. All three of his cousins turned their attention swiftly to him and so did his uncle. In that instant, he did not feel like ‘Cregan Stark, Heir to Winterfell’ but instead like ‘Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North.’

His uncle coughed and smiled. “Yes, your father wanted to mount the head in the Great Hall. A wonderful suggestion, nephew.”

“I want to see it. Bring it to me.” There it was again. The tone of ‘Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North.’

Breath.

Once more your voice sounded in his mind and a calm filled him. It wasn’t long before they brought the wolf’s head before him. Those amber eyes now clouded over. How did they find it? How did they kill it? What his father and his men could not do his cousins did.

Cregan reached his hand out to touch the matted coat. It was so cold. So different from the warmness that coated his hands when he first sliced into it. Cregan could not look away from the eyes. The eyes that seemed to have plagued him for the past couple of months. They didn’t seem so familiar anymore. They were just so cold. Those amber eyes he swore he saw whenever you entered a room. Those amber eyes glinted and now those same amber eyes were clouded and cold.

This head was so cold. Death is cold.

The night was cold.

Now Cregan shivers under the covers of his bed. It is so cold. Everything is so cold.

It is so different from you. You were so warm. Unnaturally warm. A warmth he craved now as he shivers under the covers of his sheets. His hands touch the soft golden fur that lies atop his bed. They sent the head away but the image of those cold amber eyes was clear in his mind. Those eyes were cold, nothing like yours. You were nothing like the cold head that sat at his table in the morning or like cold golden fur that brought him no warmth.

Every night after that night was cold. So unbelievably cold for Cregan.

For the rest of his life, Cregan swore that it was the coldest month the North had ever experienced even if no one else recalled.

So shivering he crawled out of bed roaming the halls of his keep. It was dark. He kept his hand on the warm walls of his keep. He leaned against them, relishing the warmth they brought him. This night is dark and full of terrors yet in these halls he feels warmth and light. When he breathes it is clear and refreshing. He continues to roam his warm halls. They almost brought him the warmth your hands did whenever you buttoned his shifts or when your body heat hit him whenever you would coax him into bed. He would have to light a fire in his room to keep himself warm without you.

Cregan walked to where they kept the firewood but stopped when he heard a moan. His head snapped towards the sound. His father had told him that he was reaching the age where he would soon become a man. It was not unnatural for him to creep closer to the sound. Curiosity was a good thing, right?

It came from his uncle’s room. His wife was away. The door was slightly ajar and another sweet sound came. His eyes looked through the slit in the door. There was a feminine figure moving up his eye raking her figure greedily taking in the sight. He had never seen another woman in this light. She seemed divine, almost unnaturally so. He watched as tilted her head upward and another sound came from the woman. It was almost cloying. His breath hitched when he realized who it was.

There you were pleasuring yourself on his uncle as a red bead rolled down the side of your mouth onto your breast that was cupped by his uncle’s hand. There was blood on his uncle’s chest and on yours. His eyes trailed up your naked body and asserted that the blood was not coming from you.

Cregan gave a small gasp as he saw the gaping wound from his uncle's neck, spurting out blood every couple of seconds.

He sees your head turn with disturbing speed. Cregan doesn’t remember what happened all he knows is that he awoke in his bed with a warm sticky feeling in his pants the next morning.

Were you here? Had you come back for him? He was unsure of what to do with himself. Had he dreamt of you? That would be the first. Cregan has never dreamt of anyone. Cregan was not unfamiliar with sexual acts. His cousins once brought him to a brothel outside the walls of Winterfell. He saw what he only thought was for marital duties to be performed. To think of you was new. He saw a slight tent through the covers. What was he supposed to do now? What if you came in?

Cregan waited in his bed until a bath was brought to him. He eagerly took to the bath trying to rid himself of the stickiness. He watched the maids take away his sheets and the coat of the wolf. It was to be made into a coat, one that he would wear when he would inherit Winterfell and claim the title of Warden of the North.

When he had finished washing himself the maids came and dressed him. Their hands were cold on his skin as they buttoned his shift. Flatting his attire he walked out to meet his cousins and his uncle. Uncle Bennard seemed to be in high spirits. Flashes of memories flashed before Cregan eyes and grimaced though there was no sight of any irritation on his uncle’s neck. He had been sure there was blood spilling from his uncle’s neck yet there was no sign.

Has it really been a dream? It felt so real. Your name fell from Cregan’s lips and his uncle turned to him.

“She is expected to return either today or tomorrow.” His uncle spoke. So you weren’t back yet. What a strange dream, but that’s all it was, a dream. You weren’t back yet.

“Come nephew, we have petitions to hear today.” His uncle commanded. Cregan followed closely behind his uncle along with his cousins.

When he stepped into the Great Hall the first thing he caught sight of was the preserved head of the world hung on the wall. It had been preserved in a snarling manner. The pink-brown gums are on show while the incisors and canines are on full display. The pupils of the wolf permanently dilated and now a much clearer color than what he saw the other day.

All Cregan could do was stare at the wolf throughout the meetings. He knew as the future Lord he really should pay more attention to his people, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Looking at it, he doesn’t know how to explain it, but there is a sense of giddiness. He feels as if there is something good happening. Something good will happen.

The day seemed to pass, though, to Cregan, it felt like no time had passed at all. He had spent his time observing every crinkle of the snarl on the wolf’s face. It truly was a beautiful creature. For a moment Cregan wishes it had really died by his hand. Then at least he could’ve seen it in its beauty before he killed it.

It wasn’t until he was brought out by his uncle that he finally ripped his eyes away from the wolf’s head. His uncle told Cregan to mount his horse. Cregan listened while his cousins mounted theirs and his uncle prepared another horse once he finished prepping his own. All five of them rode out through the East gate to the town outside of Winterfell’s walls.

It wasn’t long before Cregan saw who the extra horse was for. There you were in a simple blue gown with linings accentuated with ivory coloring. Uncle Bennard was the first to greet you. You gladly took his hand helping you mount your horse. It had been so long since he had seen you. Sure he had dreamt about you, but to look at you, it was something else. Have you really looked like this all this time? Cregan supposes the only time he really looked at you was to see your eyes. Those eyes that held such familiarity.

How well they suited you.

The entire ride back he spent looking over towards you while his uncle took up your time and attention. Much to his surprise his cousins did not seem to mind this excessive attention put on you. Cregan is not his uncle's son yet he feels frustrated that his uncle is acting in such a way with you. One would deem it most inappropriate.

After all, you were gifted to Cregan, not Bennard. Yet here his uncle was, taking up all your time when it should instead be focused-

“Mayhaps father will let me wed her.” Cregan’s attention was immediately pulled to the conversation his eldest cousin was having with Elric and Bradon. Benjen sat proudly on his horse eyeing you as your body swayed with every step the horse took. “I am to be one of the bannermen of our dear cousin Cregan.”

“To be a bannerman you need to wed the eldest daughter of some lord Benjen.” Brandon chastised.

Is that why they didn’t mind their father acting so inappropriately with you? Benjen wanted to marry you? You seemed to be a couple of years younger than him so it wouldn’t be a bad match but Cregan would much rather have you here than wherever it is his cousin would keep you. When they finally arrived at the gates of Winterfell you turned your attention to Cregan. He gave a small smile as he quickly rode to the stables. Much to his delight, you rode after him.

Cregan quickly took you inside to show you the wolf’s head. He heard you give a sweet laugh.

“They have the wolf.” He said eagerly. Cregan eyed your reaction. He watched you rub your neck before smiling down at him. It was a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Have you been able to sleep better?” You asked him and Cregan was unsure of how to answer. He no longer faced night terrors as he did once, but now it’s too cold to sleep. Cregan decided a simple no would suffice.

…

You gave a loud cry as you felt the sword slice into your neck. You snarled at the man. The least the idiot could do was give you a clean death. You had even stood here letting them get close enough while you feasted on the entrails of a man. Yet here you were snarling because he couldn’t get a clean cut across. You looked towards the said idiot.

Benjen Stark.

He struggled to get his sword free from your neck. Luckily for you, his two brothers came and finished the job. When you awoke you were laid naked on the snowy forest floor. You got up quickly, shivering. You could smell where they had taken your head. Much to your surprise, they had left your lower body, and from that, you regrow your head.

You walked through the forest trying to warm yourself. You smelled the air, not far from here you left yourself a little snack. You ran and found the woman you had left here, for what you assumed was hours ago, as a way to regain your strength after your head would be cut off.

Quickly you compelled the woman to take off her dress. Once she did, you hung it on a tree branch while you trailed your nails across the woman’s neck. It wasn’t long before dark veins pooled beneath your eyes and your enlarged canines protruded from your mouth as you smiled before ripping into the woman. You gripped the woman’s shoulder trying to show a little restraint. Much to your displeasure, you broke her shoulder bone and in turn caused a gush of blood to be sent your way.

You gave a sound of content as you greedily drank. Soon enough you began to feel a wave of euphoria take you, you pushed yourself closer to the woman. Close and closer you drover yourself opening your jaws as wide as you can to allow for more room. By the time you sucked her dry her head only hung on by a ligament of muscle.

You let the woman drop before whipping your mouth and putting on the woman’s clothes. Now that the boy had his wolf’s head, his fear of you shouldn’t be much of a problem anymore.

“They say the ‘realm’s delight’ has given birth to another plain-featured bastard.” You heard snickering.

Realm’s delight?

“Seems the princess shares her delight with anyone.” Another voice laughed.

A princess. How long has it been since you’ve played the games of court? Oh, ages. The last time was in 1820 you reckon. George III otherwise known as ‘Farmer George.’ No one ever writes stories of how fun it is to play with heads of monarchs. To see their descents into madness. It was simply divine to watch. Though playing with the ladies and their word games was never much fun. You had too much of a short temper. Ripped off the heads of many in court. That earned you a ‘time out’ for nearly a century by Elijah.

By the time you returned, it was clear times had changed and monarchies were going out of style. What a shame. In the end, you turn to the next best thing. Politics. Playing jump rope with lines that could start wars. It was such a surge of adrenaline.

Perhaps it’s time to head back to court, if only for a little while after your penance with Cregan. Just another…fifteen years? The average lifespan in this era is about thirty or maybe forty. Regardless, a small blip in time compared to all of eternity.

It wasn’t long before you were staring at your own head hanging on the wall. You went to rub your neck, the terrible job that Benjen had done. In any case, you had received a warning from Bennard. You had come late in the night and to say you were parched was an underestimate. Not to mention it had been oh so long since the last time you had attempted to procreate with another. It was fine, he ended up passing out mid-way. You had gotten too excited with him. A miracle you didn’t take off his head. You healed him soon enough with your blood after Cregan had come and interrupted your little rendezvous with his uncle.

You stalled off coming back for another day. You didn’t want the kid to fear you again. Not after you had given your head to him.

So for now you would hold your disgusted face and instead give Cregan a mute smile. It was in poor taste.

Once more you returned to your penance and every night once more you would prepare Cregan for his day and lay him to rest at night. He was growing. Growing fast. In the short time away it felt like he nearly doubled in size. Such a strange thing. You had only ever gotten as big as your short years of human life permitted you. You often wondered if you would’ve grown taller or how your body would age in your years. How your body would change with a pregnancy. If you developed those terrible eyebags your mother did when she was pregnant with Henrik? Such a fascinating thing to watch little ones grow.

“How were your brothers?” Cregan asked as you tended to the fireplace and he sat on a chair simply watching you before looking away. You lifted a brow. Maybe you have a little bit more work to do to get rid of that fear. Though it was a bit strange. You couldn’t feel it, you could hear the slight increase in pace within his heartbeat but not the sweet scent that humans produced when they got scared. Maybe you were almost there.

Then you considered the question. How were your brothers? Was Niklaus dead? Your only or what you assume is your only full-blooded brother (who knows if your mother had a taste of other werewolf men) was dead or did he rewrap Elijah? Probably the latter knowing just how much Elijah valued family. “They were good. My brothers are okay.”

“Were you worried for them?” Cregan asked as he leaned forward and you looked over to him. There was something your ears picked up. His voice was dropping.

“What’s the saying you Starks have?” You looked towards the growing boy and he looked back with those grey eyes.

“Winter is coming.” Cregan did not look away as he spoke.

“Winter comes in many different forms.” You looked away from him as you pulled your hand away from the fire watching the slight regeneration happen before your eyes. The regeneration was constant. You were constantly regenerating to keep your dead body from rotting, though recently your regeneration seemed less needed. How strange everything was.

You turned and walked over to him. Cregan looked away as you began to undress him, preparing him for bed. It was a routine the both of them had fallen into. Just another fifteen years.

(It would be a lot longer than fifteen)

Cregan slipped on his robe as he made his way into his bed. You picked up Ice and went to hang it up. It had been a while since Cregan had asked you to lay next to him.

“When will you see them again?” You paused in your movements. When would you see your family again? Probably never thanks to that Bennet witch. Your grip tightens on the sword as a sudden wave of anger passes you. If you were never going to see your family again you would’ve rather it been on your terms. Should you ever return you’d hunt down every last Bennet witch and everyone she’s ever met.

“I don’t know.” It was a simple but truthful answer. You didn’t know if you would see your brothers again, much less when.

“I had a brother once.” It was a slight mumble and while you really should listen to him earnestly you honestly couldn’t find it in you to care all that much. So you tuned him out as you thought about your situation. It was selfish but it was but a small moment in all of eternity. That Bennet witch. Every single one of her descendants, you’d hunt them down and throw their heads at her feet. It was always better to make a person take their own life. There was a certain art to making a person hate themselves, to no longer have a reason to live. So as Cregan spoke you thought about all the ways to make that Bennet witch rue the day she learned of your existence.

Your back faced him until he eventually found sleep. Only then did you face him again. You looked over his sleeping form. A growing boy who would one day be a man. You wonder how he would react if he one day discovered it was you who killed his father. What kind of face would he make?

The ends of your lips quipped upwards in a knowing smile. Maybe you’d tell him on his deathbed to see his face. The shock would kill him, or at least that's how it plays out in your mind. (You would never find out if it would or wouldn’t.)

You stepped out of his room only to feel arms wrap around you. Your nose twitched in irritation, though quickly soothed by a bloody wrist that was brought to your mouth. Black veins formed underneath your eyes and your vision sharpened.

“What are you?” A voice whispered but so close to your ear the man might as well have been yelling. You tore yourself away from the man’s wrist.

One moment you're in front of Cregan’s door and the next you’ve got Bennard Stark shoved against a wall away from Cregan’s chambers with a bloody smile. The amber wolf-like eyes glowed bright in the dark.

“Why don’t you take a guess…” You licked the drop of blood that fell from the side of your mouth.

“You are fast and stronger than ten men, you feast on blood yet your skin feels as if you have a constant fever…” Bennard stared into your transformed eyes then trailed his gaze to your impossibly long canines.

“There was a time when I was as cold as a dead body.”

Note: Let me know what yall think. Lemme hear them predictions.

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klausysworld · 2 years ago

Note

“In certain situations, like when he knows you’re trying to make him jealous or when one of you is particularly needy, he will just fuck you in the nearest secluded area with a hand over your mouth to muffle your pleasured screams.

Sis I just love the recent NSFW POST of yours! This concept had me 😧😧😧🥵🥵 Can you write something like this whenever suitable?

All his

Klaus had made me go to this ball thing, something about a truce with the factions and Elijah saying we all had to behave.

Rebekah had me dressed in a tight blood red dress that hand a high slit in the leg going right up my thigh. It pushed my tits together perfectly leaving no need for a bra, this however caused my nipples to show a little through the fabric. Sometimes that clashed with Elijah’s rules of our ‘best behaviour’

So there i was making my way through the crowds of people to Rebekah and Hayley

“Klaus seen your outfit yet y/n?” Hayley asked trailing her eyes down my body as she handed me a glass of champagne, Rebekah smirked as i did a little spin to show how it squeezed my hips

“you don’t think he’ll like it?” i asked with a fake pout on my face

“oh he’ll like it…just not when there’s a hundred other people also eyeing you up” she said gesturing to the hungry eyes watching my movements

“he can’t yell at me till later, may as-well have fun” i grinned and took their hands as we made our way to dance

The ball ended up being a little more…club like by the time Klaus had actually decided to join the room. His brows furrowed as he approached a clearly unamused Elijah

“why are there strippers dry humping each other in our house?” he asked confused

“it would seem our sister, Hayley and Y/n decided to…’spice things up’ as they put it.” Elijah air-quoted with a tight lip smile

“Y/n’s in there?” he laughed not really thinking you would be so bold

“mhm right in the middle. Just over…there….” he pointed to Klaus’s lover, he turned back to see if Niklaus could spot you but found he was already marching his way though everyone

“Y/N!” i could faintly hear my name being yelled over the music and i looked around, my eyes met Klaus’s dark angry ones and i gulped, Rebekah pushed me and called a “good luck” as i made my way to him. Just as i got to him someone grabbed my hand and spun me making me gasp, hands were on my hips and i was pulled right against someone. This someone was not Klaus. I tried to pull myself away but he wouldn’t let go, he put a harsh kiss to my neck and before i could react i was ripped out of his arms and was being hauled out the room.

I was shoved into the bathroom and a hand gripped my jaw

“how. dare. he.” Klaus spat as he glared at the mark left on my neck. His eyes bled into gold, veins covered all under his eyes as a possessive growl sounded in his throat

“i- i didn’t think that would happen i swear” i spoke in a pleading tone hoping he wouldn’t think i had the intention of being touched by anyone else, marked by someone else

“i know, it’s just unfortunate you have to suffer because of someone else’s actions” i went to ask what he meant but his fangs in my throat wouldn’t allow any words to form. He wasn’t gentle like he normally was. His hand on my jaw was tight and he gulped my blood down hungrily, i could feel my skin tear open slightly when he pulled his mouth away. His tongue lapped at the blood that dripped now me

“You. are mine. Why do people not know that for fucks sake” his tone was dangerous and low, i felt my underwear stick to me as i dampened them. Quickly he picked me up and sat me on the sink, he yanked my panties off and spread my legs as wide as the dress would let them. Immediately two of his fingers were sliding up and down my folds making me jump and grab onto his arm

“you’re fucking soaked” he told me and shoved his fingers in my mouth. I sucked them after a second and swirled my tongue over them. He pulled them out and grabbed my face again. I looked at his predatory eyes before he pulled me to him and forced his tongue into my mouth, he kissed me in a rushed aggressive manner leaving me no time to try catch up as he dominated my mouth.

“put your legs around me” he ordered still swallowing my tongue. i complied and wrapped my legs around his waist, our bodies flush against each other. I wound my fingers into his hair trying to keep up and his teeth clashed against mine, he bit into my bottom lip and sucked at the blood that began pooling, i gave a surprised moan in response.

I felt his hands leave my face and the sound of a belt hitting the floor, i tried to pull away to see when he was doing but a hand was brought to the back of my head pushing me into him. A second later i felt his swollen cock at my entrance, he pulled me off the sink and thrust up into me, i gasped and then moaned and he went straight into a bruising pace. I was slammed against the bathroom wall as he moved at an inhuman speed. He pulled away from the kiss and started to suck as many marks into my neck as he could. His hands gripped my hips as he pushed the skirt of my dress up.

My mouth hung wide open as my walls clenched continuously around him, strangled sounds escaped me while i pulled at his hair, he grunted and then tore the skirt of the dress off of my body completely and threw in on the floor

“Tell me Y/n, what did you expect to happen when you had your tits on full display?” his thrusts became deeper and even more forceful hitting somewhere overwhelming inside me, a scream sounded through the room as tears ran down my cheeks

“im sorry! im sorry klaus im sorry” i sobbed with my face in his neck hiccuping back my cries of fulfilment, my limbs went limp against him, i tightened around him more than i ever had before

“fuck there’s a good girl huh? All fucking mine.” i nodded helplessly, the waves of bliss crashing through me repeatedly while he continued to fuck me. He groaned and grunted into my ear, the sound of our skin meeting and our content noises drowned out the sounds of the party still happening in the next room.

“i need- klaus…can i-“ i moaned before i could ask but he knew what i wanted as a thumb was on my awaiting clit rubbing harsh and fast circles. I lifted my head and pressed my mouth back to his as i let the feeling inside of me snap. We both moaned lowly into each other, i milked his cock for the next few moments while he carried on moving inside of my walls slowing down gradually to ride out both our highs.

“Alright y/n, alright. Come here, i’ve got you” he lifted me off of his cock and carefully lowered me onto my heeled feet making me wobble slightly.

“take them off for me love” i glanced at him and saw him fully kick his trousers off away from his ankles and i realised we weren’t finished. I slipped out of the heels and looked up at him, he groaned as he studied me, i had grip marks on my thighs, hips and neck, the only thing i was wearing was the top part of what was once a dress and even then it barely did anything, my nipples were hard showing through and they were only just covered anyway especially from being fucked against the wall, my breasts had almost bounced out. My mascara was down my face, my hair messy and my upper body littered in hickeys.

“bend over the sink” his voice was monotone and although it somewhat scared me i could still feel my clit pulse and slowly made my way back to the sink, i got a grip on the sides of it and bent myself over

“legs apart and arch your back for me”

“okay..” i whispered nodding and followed his directions

i felt his warm hands on my shoulders as he massaged them for a moment, he pushed his finger into the top of the dress at the back and pulled ripping it down the middle, i inhaled nervously as it fell to the floor and he traced my spine

“Relax love, you know i wouldn’t harm you” i nodded and flexed my fingers before getting a better grip as i let my eyes fall closed. He took his length into his hand and pumped himself a few times before carefully pushing into me from behind.

I moaned out and pushed my ass back against him taking him all the way. One arm wrapped around my waist and held my hip while the other applied a pressure on my back to keep it arched. He began with slow but jarring movements, seeing just how deep he could hit in this new position. I clenched around him a few times making sure i was comfortable as guttural sounds vibrated through me.

Quickly he lost all sense of sense of control and began thrusting with his combination of vampire and werewolf strength. I let out heavy moans as he repeatedly smashed into just the right spot. His grip on me got tighter as he bent over with me so his chest touched my back and grunted into my shoulder

Suddenly there was a knock at the door and his hand was held over my mouth. He squeezed my face in his hand and fucked me even harder, my moans coming out as muffled cries as i rocked my body back and forward to meet his movements

“someone in there?” Klaus dragged his teeth to my earlobe as someone spoke from the door

“should we let them hear how much you love me fucking you from behind?” he whispered gruffly as his other hand found my clit and i screamed into his palm.

“scream my name” he demanded as he removed his hand and buried his teeth back into my neck, he released deep inside me as i fluttered and throbbed my cum going all down my legs that nearly gave out beneath me when i cried out his name over and over.

Gasps were heard from the next room but all i could focus on was the full feeling of him still inside me as i whimpered. He thrust a couple more times before pulling out, his fingers stayed on my clit as they continued to rub fairly quickly. My legs buckled but he kept my body up as he played between my thighs still draining my neck. I began to feel dizzy, my next orgasm taking over far too quickly as electric shocks went straight to my core. My clit was on fire while i kept moaning his name. His teeth left my throat and he latched his mouth to mine in a desperate kiss. He swallowed around my tongue and explored my mouth, again. My sounds didn’t falter despite him trying to drown them, I felt the tension inside me break again and i sobbed at the overstimulation. I ached and closed my legs as soon as his fingers left me alone.

He lowered me onto the floor and i led into a foetus position. I could hear him putting his clothes back on before returning and petting my hair

“i don’t want anyone to see me naked” i whispered and he nodded kissing my head

“nobody but me will ever see you like this, i promise you i would never let that happen” He came down onto his knees and sat me up. My arms were put into his jacket sleeves and he did up the front buttons. Gently i was lifted into the bridal style carry, the jacket nearly went down to mid thigh and he tucked my head into his neck

“you did so good for me sweetheart you know that?” i whined and tugged the blazer further down my legs, he put his hand just below my ass so nobody would be able to see up and exited the bathroom, he made his way to our room with a fast pace. I could hear Hayley drunkenly cheer and Rebekah laughing sluggishly

He locked the bedroom door behind us and slid us both under the covers

“you’re all mine y/n, i love you too much to let anyone else have you”

“all yours promise”

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seriesxwriting · 1 year ago

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Soulmates

W Klaus Mikaelson <3

Warnings- swearing, flighting, kissing.

Series- the vampire diaries/ the originals

Summary- After being prisoner to mikael for a century your finally free and can find your soulmate again… once you’ve sorted out a few issues about why you left in the first place. Presuming the Mikealson’s don’t kill you first.

Recreating a post I deleted from when I first started writing<3

I’d just arrived in New Orleans. It had been a long ass time since I’d been here. It had been a century. I was here for only one reason. Id been dwelling on if it was a good idea or not for a while. It wasn’t, I’d probably lose my head as soon as I got into town. But I grew some balls and followed my heart. And that lead me to New Orleans.

I stepped off the train and just looked around for a second breathing in a deep breath of New Orleans air. I remember how this place looked since I was last here. It hadn’t changed much apart from the vending machines and new benches made of metal now.

Working up the courage, I left the train station and went into the square which wasn’t a long walk. It was kind of refreshing. Being back was scary almost but it was home, I knew I was risking a lot coming here but I had to. For myself, for him. I walked down to my favourite bar, I needed to be a little intoxicated before I faced him. Rousseau’s.

There it stood, proudly if anything. I’d missed this place. That feeling was very short lived as a hand tightened around my throat dragging me into an alley next to the bar. I struggled against them but could only use vampirism after I was out of sight from the humans. I elbowed the man but he managed to push me against the wall.

I looked up to see who it was and the colour left my face. “So it really is you” he scoffed shaking his head. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t removed your head and give it to him in a box?”. Elijah Mikaelson. Always a pleasure. “Get off me!” I hissed as the tears started forming in my eyes. He had never been hostile to me before. I’d only seen it when he was fighting his families enemies. Now I was an enemy of the Mikaelsons.

He threw me against the wall again after letting go of my neck. “I came to explain not fight” I scoffed rubbing my neck from the throbbing pain. “You shouldn’t have come here if you didn’t expect a fight” he mocked shaking his head. “I assumed it would be on the table” “why are you here? After what you did?” Elijah asked squinting his eyes at me.

“I didn’t do anything!” I hissed trying to contain my tears. “Will you hear me out or not?”. Elijah looked like he was debating it. “Fine I will hear you out but I can’t promise I won’t pull your heart out mid conversation” “I’m not a fool Elijah- I know you don’t trust me I know you don’t want to see me- he won’t want to either but I owe it to myself to explain what happened” I told him pushing off the wall now.

“Let’s have a drink shall we, be civil about this?”. He looked like he was holding back a laugh but he nodded his head once and then followed me into the bar. We took one of the back booths so we could talk without being heard or seen. “You look different” he told me sitting across from me. “You look worn out, skinnier” “where do you want me to start?” I asked swallowing, feeling even more intimidated now it was really happening.

“Start from the fire” he told me bluntly keeping his eyes on me. “1919, we were in the Oprah house” I began thinking back to that terrible night. “Klaus had gone to get our seats while I went to the bathroom, when I exited I saw a face that still horrifies me to this day” “mikael” Elijah exhaled as he began to realised there was much more to the story. “I ran to get away from him but he caught me quickly over powering me”.

“He told me all these things- everything he was planning on doing to klaus, I struggled but he was too strong” I shook my head as the tears started forming again. “He compelled me- to leave with him- compelled me to say what I said to Klaus- I told him I was done I was leaving and that i couldn’t stand the sight of him- those words rang in my head for years” I sniffed as the first tear fell down. “After that mikael snapped my neck and left me in the trunk of some car” I explained.

“He did what he did in New Orleans- and kept me prisoner for years on end, he thought he could use me to help find Klaus as I knew him so well- I refused and that’s when his violence appeared”. Elijah looked horrified. That was the only word to describe his face. He reached over to my hand and nodded sympathetically. “You can compel me if you don’t believe me” I made very clear.

Elijah shook his head vigorously “I believe you’ve had enough compelling to last you for a lifetime” he told me rubbing my hand gently. “I believe you y/n” “thank you Elijah, truly” i gasp nodding my head agreeing I’d had enough. “I’ve heard enough about mikael- how’d you escape”.

“He didn’t come back to where he left me for a while- I had the chance to escape with him gone, but I don’t know where he is- he must be looking for me” I shook my head not wanting to think about it. “He’s not” Elijah squeezed my hand as he plunged in abruptly. “He’s dead y/n, Klaus killed him”. I sat back in the chair as my eye brows knitted together.

A weight off my shoulder literally lifted off me and I felt as if i could breath again. The tears leaked out my eyes without permission as I laughed from happiness. Elijah moved round to my side and embraced me. It was nice having him back, he was always so caring towards me. I’d truly missed him. “It’s over y/n- you done it, your home- and I am so! So sorry that my father put you through that, that he turned us against you”.

“You weren’t to know” I shook my head not wanting an apology from him. “What happened? When I left- Klaus- what happened?” “He um…” Elijah started before his eyes drifted to the table. “He hasn’t been okay since” Elijah shook his head vigorously. He must have been thinking of the events because I practically saw them flashing in his eyes.

“I didn’t think he ever would be again” he smiled before looking at me. “But you both will- I assume that’s why your here” “I’m here to explain- I understand it’s been a long time- I don’t expect him to feel the same way about me now” “do you want to see him? I’ll take you to him- help you smooth things over” “yes please” I nodded feeling my heart patting against my chest. “I’d like that very much”.

“Let’s go” Elijah nodded with a smile getting up from the table. I was afraid to face Klaus. I knew what his temper was like, once upon a time I was the only one who could control it. Though I didn’t think now would be one of those times. Elijah walked me over to the house. I stopped at the threshold taking a deep breath. “It’s going to be fine” he whispered comforting me. But that was when I heard his voice.

“Brother! Bout time you were back we have business to discuss” klaus called out as we walked into the house. His back was turned to us and he was pouring two bourbons. “Yes brother, we do indeed” Elijah told him forwardly. “We have much to discuss”. With that Klaus turned around. His smirk dropped off his face as he locked eyes with me. How the hell do I feel right now? I didn’t know myself.

He clearly didn’t. It took a few seconds but his face hardened just as I remembered, just as I’d imagined it to do. “You were foolish to step into this house” he told me seriously. “Thank you for delivering her to me brother but I have no intention of looking at her for more than two seconds, your welcome to let her out” klaus crushed a glass in his hand. The glass scattered everywhere.

“I thought- you’d want me dead for sure” I told him in a wavy voice. “I want you dead believe me, I just don’t want to watch it” he frowned as his jaw locked together watching his cuts heal up. “Brother, I haven’t delivered y/n to you to inflict any sort of harm” Elijah stated making Klaus look at him with the hard look now. “Explain yourself now Elijah” his hand flew out and I saw his eyes getting watery. “You should sit down and let y/n explain herself” he nodded taking a step forward.

I guess he knew Klaus was about to attack him as that’s exactly what happened. Klaus vamp ran towards him knocking Elijah off his feet. Klaus turned to me, his eyes orange now. That was new. “Get out, before I change my mind” he told me without a wave of anything but anger. “Klaus please- that night didn’t go down how you think it went down” I told him with tears in my own eyes now.

“Don’t think you can lie your way out of this one” he scoffed, the veins seemed to run further down his eyes onto his cheeks as his teeth came out. He had another set now, that was new too. “Klaus, she’s not lying- she was compelled” Elijah explained as he stood back up fixing his suit. “Oh really and by who exac-.” Klaus trailed off as a moment of realisation hit him. “No” he shook his head as his eyes went back to normal and he took a step back.

He looked me up and down before shaking his head and walking off toward the bourbon again with his hand pointing out. “I will not hear these lies!” “I’m not lying- I’ve never lied to you” I told him confidently, it was working he was realising. “If so, why didn’t you come back? Why didn’t you look for me?” Klaus asked me with a frown. “Because you had no interest in it!”.

“I came as soon as I escaped from mikael- well- a week after- I was debating whether i should come or not, I wasn’t sure if you’d hear me out”. Klaus’s face dropped. “What do you mean… escaped from Mikel” he asked me walking slowly towards me. “He- he kept me prisoner, he wanted my help to find you” “he- no I would have known- I- no” klaus shook his head but I knew he was just in denial about it now.

I slid my hand up to his face. “Klaus, I never would have left you” I told him when his eyes landed on me. “You don’t have to believe me- I didn’t come and see you to make things go back to how they were I just- i couldn’t live with you thinking I hated you” I told him softly holding eye contact with me. I slowly took my hand away but he caught it holding it bringing it back up.

“He- hurt you?” “It’s over now Klaus I’m free” I shook my head not wanting to give any details. “He hurt you?” Klaus asked me again in a much more authoritative tone. I nodded losing eye contact with him drifting to the floor. Klaus moved forward wrapping his arms around me tighter than I’d ever felt a hug. He didn’t want to let go and I was okay with that.

“You two- you should talk, clear everything up” Elijah told us with a smile on his face. “It’s good to see you again y/n” he nodded before wondering out of the door. “Elijah!” I called out before he got too far. He turned innocently looking at me under his brothers arm. “Thank you- seriously thank you” I nodded with sad eyes. “Who am I to keep soulmates apart” he chuckled as he walked off backwards.

Klaus didn’t say anything more to me just led me to the sofa and looked at me. He scanned me for a minute or two. “Klaus- it’s me” “I know” he nodded still looking at me. “I’m savouring it” he answered a few seconds after. He was holding my hand and hadn’t let go since we sat down. “What do you want to know?” “Nothing gorgeous- I believe you, Mikael is a bastard always has been, I presume Elijah told you he’s dead”.

I nodded frantically. “I’m free” I smiled again as it really sank in the the nightmare was over. A hundred years later. “I’m tempted to bring him back so I can kill him again for the years he kept us apart”. “I’m glad you came- I’m glad you chose to come” he told me fiddling with my fingers. “So am I- I don’t- expect anything from you Klaus not for you to take me in, take me back, nothing, I have peace knowing you know the truth”.

“Y/n, You are the queen of New Orleans and you are never leaving my side again” klaus told me putting his hand on my cheek. “Does that mea- mean you’ll have me back?” “Your my always and forever” he chuckled kissing my hand softly. “I should have knew something was off- I should have looked for you” he tutted, I spotted a tear falling down his face. “No don’t do that” I warned him.

“Don’t not make this your fault- you were hurt and you had every right to be” “y/n I know you better than anyone- I should have known something was wrong” he clutched my hand to his chest. “Can we- stop talking about it please- we can tomorrow just…” “…it’s done- I just want to make up for lost time, my love” he brushed my cheek with my thumb.

“Then there’s no better way” I smiled as I moved my head towards his attaching his lips to mine. Klaus didn’t hesitate for a semi second. He was right there with me, we’re truly were soulmates. We moved like we were made for each other because we were. “Now, nothing can take you away from me” he whispered holding me close.

“I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that” I smiled putting my head in between his shoulders and neck. Klaus kissed my head gently. Heaven.

For more like this

Masterlist of masterlists

The vampire diaries Masterlist

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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desiresiwant · 6 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌-𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒

(The Originals)

☆ 𝗔 𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗢𝗙 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗦 what if the child was a teenager/YA throughout the show duration and not at season 5?

𝗙𝗘𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: Original 𝑩lack And Of Color Characters In Paranormal Fiction, 𝑩lack Bisexual MC, 𝑳GBTQ+ rep, Slight 𝙒hy Choose?, 𝑴ore Father & Daughter + Family Duo (𝑫uo Pov), 𝑴orally Grey Characters And Flawed, 𝑪haracter Development, 𝑮ood Girl Turned Bad (Within Reason...And Maybe For Fun), 𝑴ental Health Rep, 𝙒erewolf Mating Bonds, 𝑳ike Father Like Daughter...Eventually. 𝙋𝙇𝙐𝙎 𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙀 𝙏𝙊 𝘿𝙄𝙎𝘾𝙊𝙑𝙀𝙍 𝙒𝙃𝙄𝙇𝙀 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙄𝙉𝙂!

𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗚: Mature

↳ strong language, violence & gore, murder & death, eventual explicit sexual content, heavy prejudice, blood magic, sacrifices + more overall mature subjects not suited for young audiences (each fic are rightfully tagged and labeled of these subjects and more that happens later on within)

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Cast List

Alternative Set Up For The Fic (read before reading)

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

< Read The First Five Chapters Of Book One Posted Here >

Chapter One | New Orleans

Chapter Two | The Prophecy

Chapter Three | Nature’s Loophole

Chapter Four | Human

Chapter Five | A Dream Through The Night, A Nature That Bites

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

Where To Read ?

Book One

Book Two

Book Three

Book Four : Coming Soon

Wattpad Link If Not On Ao3 : Four Books In One (not as separately organized as ao3 )

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tanjamikaelson · 2 months ago

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FULL MASTERLIST

I will put here all the fan fictions that I wrote over the years.

THE VAMPIRE DIARIES & THE ORIGINALS:

Kol Mikaelson x oc:

LOVE FOR ETERNITY - MASTERLIST (94 chapters posted)

Klaus Mikaelson x oc:

BITTERSWEET - MASTERLIST (7 chapters posted, hopefully I will start updating it soon)

OUTERBANKS:

Rafe Cameron x oc:

STRANGE LOVE - MASTERLIST (ongoing)

Rafe Cameron x fem!reader:

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - MASTERLST (ongoing)

ONE SHOT - Rafe Cameron x fem!reader:

UNSPOKEN CONFESSION

CAN FRIENDS KISS?

UNEXPECTED HEAT

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lanassgirlll · 1 year ago

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Do you love me?

Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Warnings: fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, no mentions of y/n

Words: 1,7k

AN: This is my first time writing and actually posting something, so please excuse any grammar mistakes and all that if this actually ends up getting read. Thank you, and enjoy!

It had been a few days since Klaus had left town, telling his girlfriend that he has some business to deal with, which concerns his family only. He had said the words “my family” to her, like she hasn’t been with him for years now. He had made her feel like she didn’t belong with them.

They met a really long time ago, while the girl, had still been a witch. But meeting Klaus and falling for him, she eventually decided that she wants to spend eternity with him. So she abandoned her magic and became a vampire, so she could be with her only true love.

It had been years, since she turned. She learned what it is to be a vampire first hand, she learned control. Even if it had taken her a while to come to terms with the fact that she has no magic anymore, having Klaus by her side, had helped her a lot through it all.

But now, Klaus had changed. She loved him more than anything life could offer her, but could she say the same about his feelings for her?

For the past few months, she noticed a change in him and the way he acts around her. He had gotten more distant and more cold towards her. She didn’t know why. Was it her fault? Was it something she had said or did, to upset or hurt him in a way? She had been trying so hard to find out, to fix things between them, but her effort was pointless.

Now? After months of trying, she had finally given up on trying to find out why Klaus had been pushing her away. She was usually a bright and bubbly person, who could make you smile in an instant, without even putting much effort into it. She had stopped doing the things she loved, she had stopped seeing and talking to most of her friends. All because she couldn’t figure out what was so wrong, that made Klaus hate her so much.

She was tired of trying. Thinking that he had fallen out of love with her, she started keeping her distance from him as well.

It was late at night. Laying in her bed, their bed, which now was barely shared between the couple, she was yet again thinking about him. Sure, they never officially ended things, but it felt like they did in a way.

She had been laying there for hours, crying as silently as possible. Not that anyone would hear her. She was all alone in the house.

Standing up, she walked over to where Klaus’ drawers were, and slowly took out one of his shirts. She slowly put it over her own and smiled sadly, smelling his light scent coming off the fabric of the shirt. She missed him so much, yet she felt like she had no right to.

She walked out of their room, and instead went to try and sleep in another one of the rooms on the floor. As she walked into the room, flipping the switch to turn on the lights before making her way over to the bed in the corner of the small room.

She sat down and did her best to wipe the already dried tears off of her face. She was exhausted of crying all the time.

Taking out her phone from the pocket of her jeans, she turned it on and looked for Klaus’ number. She took a deep breath before pressing the button and dialing it, already feeling regret after the first two seconds.

Answering the call, Klaus spoke from the other side of the phone “Hey, is something wrong?”.

She took a few seconds to think before speaking up “No I- why would you assume that?”

“Because what else would you- call for?”

“Oh.., right, I guess you have a point. I mean why would I want to call my so called boyfriend right? It’s not that I miss you or anything.”

She instantly felt regret after saying those words out loud, and before Klaus had the chance to say anything back, she apologized and hung up the phone on him.

She then turned it off and laid down on the bed, deciding to just try and sleep it off.

Klaus was worried about her. After their call last night, he had immediately decided to go back home and talk to her in person about what was wrong. He knew he has been distant and pushing her away the last few months, but he had only been doing it, so he could keep her out of the problems that had been rising every other day. He thought that she was already involved enough and that he didn’t want her to get caught in the middle of it more than she already had.

Truth be told, he was scared to lose her. And only after hearing how sad she sounded over the phone, he had realized that by pushing her away, he was slowly losing her still.

So there he was. Getting out of his car that he had just parked in front of his house, early in the morning. He walked inside and quickly walked up the stairs to their shared room.

Opening the door and seeing the bed empty, his heart dropped to his stomach. Had she left him? The hybrid took a deep breath and tried focusing on hearing her heartbeat incase she was still there.

He heard her, not far from where he was and relief instantly washed over him. He walked back out of the room and followed the sound of her heartbeat.

Opening the door of the room she was in and seeing her asleep on the bed, he let a tiny smile dance on his lips for a few seconds only.

The hybrid walked over to the bed and slowly sat down next to her, gently taking her hand in his and tracing his thumb over the knuckles on the girl’s hand.

Klaus was happy that she was still here.

Feeling the movement of the bed, she slowly started to wake. Humming a little, she looked up and saw him looking down at her. The girl freaked out a little, since she didn’t expect him to be next to her.

“Niklaus? You’re here?”

Slowly sitting up, she pulled her hand away from his and looked down.

“I am. You got me worried last night with that call, love.”

Chuckling a little, she rubbed her finger over her hand.

“You haven’t called me that in so long, I actually had forgotten how it sounds when you say it to me.”

“I know that-”

The girl looked at him again and shook her head.

“No, Klaus, you don’t know anything. It’s been months! Months since you told me that you loved me, months since you’ve stopped talking to me. I tried so hard, to fix it, to- to find out what was it that I had done wrong, but you never let me fix it.”

Klaus clenched his jaw. He was angry at himself for what he had done.

“Love, I was only trying to keep you safe. It took me way longer than it should have, to realize that by pushing you away, I was still going to lose you.”

She stared at him in disbelief. She wanted to cry, but she had nothing to give.

“Are you being serious? You’re a million years old, and yet you are that stupid to think that the solution to all your problems, is to fucking push me away?”

The hybrid looked at her sadly. He understood why she was angry and upset with him. And he knew that he’d do anything to fix it. He loved her too much.

“I was scared, I- please tell me how to fix this, I will do anything you need me to do, just please, love.”

Klaus gently took her hands into his and held them tightly, too afraid to let go.

“Do you even- love me… still? Are you still in love with me, like you were before?”

“Yes. Yes, I am. I love you more than anything, sweetheart, you know that I do.”

The girl looked down, staring at their hands. Hearing his say that he still loves her, made her feel such relief, but yet she was still so hurt.

“Then why wouldn’t you just talk to me Nik? If you had told me how you felt, I would’ve helped you, I would’ve done whatever it is that you needed me to do. But instead you pushed me away and you hurt me- you hurt me so damn much.”

Klaus’ heart broke for her. He never wanted to hurt his girl, he just wanted to keep her safe.

“I’ll fix it, okay? I’ll make it right. I’ll spend the rest of my miserable life, making it up to you, for hurting you like this. I never wanted to. God, I am so, so sorry, sweetheart.”

Tearing up himself, he gently wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest and stroking her hair softly.

The feeling of his warmth, finally so close to her again, she just broke down into his arms. She had missed him so much.

“Shh, love. I’m here now. I’m here and I am never leaving you again.”

With trembling hands, she held onto his shirt, clutching it so hard she thought it would tear.

“I love you. I love you so much, Nik. Please never do this to me again, I beg you. I can’t- I can’t live without you.”

Klaus slowly laid down, pulling her with him without letting go. He held her tightly and close, still stroking her hair and rubbing her back softly, trying to comfort her and help her calm down a little.

“I swear, I will not. You are my everything, love, my whole world, my sun.”

They laid there for what felt like hours. She cried until she just couldn’t anymore, and Klaus held her the whole time, helping her calm down.

He deeply regretted everything he had done and said to her those past few months, but he would do all that he could to make his girl happy again.

#klaus mikaelson #tvd klaus #tvd #the originals #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson fluff #female characters #short story #love #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson x y/n #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus mikaelson x reader

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klaus-littlestwolf · 1 year ago

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Okay so…I may have taken the innocence thing just a bit too far? I grew up Mormon and now I have a shit load of religious trauma and I think that propelled this one a bit so…I hope it was everything you wanted and if it isn’t I’m so sorry😅 but this is probably the most fun fic that I’ve ever gotten a request for and now I want to write more like it🤣

I apologize in advance

Warnings: Major Innocence Kink which pushes its way into Dub-Con, Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink (Dd-Lg), Religious Trauma

DD:DNE

This is a Religious Fic.

Don’t Like = Don’t Read!!

It’s possible I took the innocent thing a bit too far but considering you didn’t want her to know what sex was at all I assume that’s what you wanted? I hope it’s what you intended.

If you had told Klaus that one day he would work at an all girls catholic school he wouldn’t have believed you. Here he is though, Saint Holy Mary’s School for Girls as an Art teacher and he’s never been happier.

When Klaus met Y/n he knew she was perfect, she had been home for summer break at the time and Klaus scared off some teenage boys making vulgar comments to her as she walked home. They talked for a few minutes and it didn’t take Klaus long to understand that she’s innocent. Alarmingly innocent. She’s a teenager who is almost an adult that no one has taught about sex, and while Klaus wanted to know how that’s even possible, he decided instead to just enjoy the gift he has been given in the form of his innocent little Bunny.

She was shocked to see him in the school but pleasantly surprised, she blushed whenever he spoke to her, blushed whenever she saw him in the halls or at meals and blushed whenever he complimented her projects. Klaus had spent nearly 2 months just getting her comfortable in his presence, she spends a lot of time with him and often helps him with things that get her out of different classes. Y/n loved spending time with Klaus just as much as he did with her, she proved it the first time he touched her, though she clearly hadn’t understood what was going on and he found it truly adorable.

‘Might as well just spend the rest of class here love, there’s 20 more minutes.’ She shrugged, blushing as he pulled a chair over beside him for her to sit in. She made herself comfortable and Klaus couldn’t keep from looking at her legs, the short skirt she was forced to wear everyday showing several inches above her mid thigh and he couldn’t stop from imagining them wrapped around his head. ‘So, tell me Y/n, what made your parents choose this school for you? Were you too naughty for them to control anymore or did your parents go here?’ Once again her face was red as she quickly corrected him.

‘My mom went here! I didn’t-I’m not-‘

‘I was teasing love, I know you’re the most innocent girl here.’ He was still teasing her, wanting to see how she would react and she didn’t disappoint him.

‘I’m not that innocent. I just don’t like to break the rules…my dad never paid much attention to me when I was a kid unless I did something right so breaking the rules wasn’t really an option I guess…I don’t like-‘

‘You don’t like people to be disappointed in you. It’s a good thing, but I don’t think anyone could be disappointed in you Bunny, you’re perfect.’ He could practically smell the blood rushing to her cheeks as he rested a hand on her knee but she didn’t pull away. ‘Such a good girl.’

‘Thank you, you’re always so sweet, I love getting to talk to you Mr.Mikaelson.’

‘Ah ah ah. What have I told you about that? You call me by my first name now that we’re friends. You wouldn’t want me to be…disappointed in you would you?’ He questioned, moving his hand up to hold her thigh and seeing his fingers only about 2 inches from touching her panties making her breath just a bit heavier.

‘No! I’m sorry, I just, it’s weird to call a teacher by his name is all-‘

‘But we’re friends. After all this time I thought we were…more than friends even?’ Her eyes widened and she held the sleeve of his red Henley tightly.

‘Of course we are! We’re best friends! I’m sorry Klaus, you know I love spending time with you.’ He couldn’t help his smile at her nearly idiotic level of innocence as she thought he meant ‘best friends’ even as he has his hand almost under her skirt.

‘It’s okay. I love being your best friend, you’re my precious little Bunny. I could never really be disappointed in you love.’ His hand squeezed her flesh and she gasped quietly just before he caught a heavenly scent coming from her making his fangs ache in desperate need of being buried in her throat. In the 2 months he had known her, he had never smelled that sweet slick between her legs until now and he could see as she pushed them together that she didn’t quite understand what the feeling in her stomach was. He would have to teach her everything…he couldn’t find it in himself to be upset about that.

For the next month he got her accustomed to him touching her, arms, legs, back, face, his hands anywhere on her body wasn’t something she minded, not even when he hugged her from behind and rested his hands on her lower belly. That’s when he knew, when she leaned back into him and pushed her thighs together, he knew he could have her.

The next time they were alone together he made sure they had plenty of time. Y/n was scheduled to stay at home that weekend but Klaus made sure something came up with her parents so she couldn’t go. When she spoke to him, he convinced her to not tell the school and just spend the weekend at his place. It would be fun. She was so excited by the idea of spending time with her friend outside of school that she barely worried about the broken rules, getting off at the first bus stop after leaving the school and hopping into his car with a huge smile on her face.

Klaus had gotten all kinds of snacks and drinks, ordering takeout and relaxing with her eating everything she’s not normally allowed to. He had also gone to the store and gotten her clothes, both pajamas and day clothes to wear if she wanted to go someplace tomorrow or Sunday, all of which were short or revealing and he had her change into black short shorts and a tank top with a wolf on it. Last but not least he put on an R rated movie. She argued but didn’t put up too much of a fight about it. It was a horror movie and she was shocked by the cursing and the drugs, but she enjoyed the stupidity of the characters and how they died.

It wasn’t until they got to the reason Klaus chose this movie that she seemed uncomfortable. She watched as the teenage boy pulled his girlfriend onto his lap and ripped her top off, her tits flashing on the screen before he seemed to make a meal out of them.

Klaus had ensured that Y/n was pressed against his side firmly with his arm around her waist so that he wouldn’t need to pull her closer when the scene came on.

As the boy continued kissing down her body he flipped the girl over and ripped off her panties, shoving his face into her. Y/n gasped, completely stunned by this action and looking up at Klaus in shock. ‘What are they doing?’ She questioned and he looked down at her, trying to stay neutral.

‘They’re having sex love, being normal teenagers. You…you know what sex is…don’t you?’

‘Of course I do, I…it’s to make babies…my mom said I didn’t need to know until…until I was ready to get married. They’re sinning.’ Klaus chuckled at that and Y/n looked back up at him confused before turning back to the television and watching as the boy began thrusting into the girl roughly and she began crying out in pleasure.

��All teenagers have sex Y/n, it’s more strange not to have done it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t support mindless sex with a bunch of people you don’t know but if you love someone, really care for them then you should express that with them. You don’t have to make a baby, there’s ways to avoid it if you want to but sex is called ‘making love’ for a reason, it’s the best way to express your care for that special someone.’ She looked confused but he could also smell her excitement. ‘They love each other, so they’re making each other feel good. It’s normal and I’m so sorry you’ve been deprived of basic knowledge…do you see her face?’ He asked, knowing exactly how he was going to convince her to let him touch her. ‘What does her face look like?’

‘Happy…really happy.’

‘Right, and the sounds she’s making? Tell me, what do her sounds make you feel?’ Her face was redder than he had ever seen and she looked away from the TV quickly before he tilted her head up. ‘It’s okay Y/n, I love you. You can tell me how you’re feeling. I would never betray your trust and tell anyone anything. You can be honest with me…do you want me to tell you first?’ She nodded quickly and he tried desperately to hide his smile. ‘Well, when I hear her moaning like that I…honestly it makes me desperate to know what you would sound like if you felt good.’ Y/n was now turned toward his body and holding his Henley tightly, clearly trying to calm her breathing as she got too excited. ‘What are you feeling right now? I won’t make fun of you, I want to help.’

‘I…I feel tingly in…in bad places Klaus…sometimes when-Oh God-‘

‘It’s okay. You’re doing so good Bunny, so, so good for me.’ He pulled her onto his lap gently and ran his hands up her sides.

‘When you…t-touch me I get…I feel hot…and tingly…and I get…I-I get-‘

‘Does your pussy get wet for me Bunny?’ She groaned out, in embarrassment and relief both but he didn’t care as he gripped onto her thigh tightly. ‘It’s normal. It means you love me a whole lot, just like I love you.’ Her whimper was quiet but instant.

‘You do?’ He nodded. ‘Do…do you get wet too?’

How stupid is her fucking mother that she could teach her daughter basic-fuck that women!

‘No Bunny, but my cock gets hard for you whenever you touch me, or I think about you, sometimes at night I touch myself and just think about how precious and beautiful you are and it makes my cock feel so much better. When a man’s cock gets too hard it hurts and you are always the one who makes the pain stop, you make me feel so good Precious.’

‘Are you in pain now Klaus?’ She wondered and this was exactly how he knew he would get her to let him do anything he fucking wanted.

‘Yes Bunny, I’ve been in pain since the movie started.’ She looked up at him in shock and worry making him wince a bit as he moved to prove his discomfort.

‘How do you make it stop hurting, I can-I can leave you alone if you need-‘

‘Don’t leave me Bunny, no! Please? I need to hold you Y/n, don’t go-‘

‘Okay. I’m not going anywhere.’ She reached up, running her fingers through his hair and it sent a shiver down his spine.

‘Have you ever seen a cock before?’ He asked her and she shook her head, probably thankful she couldn’t get redder than she is. ‘Do…do you want to?’ She hesitated before looking back up at him and nodding, trying to look determined which made her all the more adorable. He moved slowly so she didn’t get scared, it had been probably about 200 years since he had fucked a virgin and he knew he needed to be even slower with Y/n. He pushed his sweat pants down along with his boxer briefs, his cock standing straight and hard, leaking at the tip, and completely red which seemed to make her believe he was in serious pain.

As if Y/n couldn’t control herself she reached her hand out and touched his tip, dragging her finger down his length before yanking her hand away when he groaned. ‘I’m Sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt you! I-‘

‘No Bunny, no! You made me feel so good, so fucking good! Please just…oh God, please touch me? Please Bunny, help me?’ His desperate cries of pain were too much for her and she reached out, wrapping her hand around his cock, watching him throw his head back as his hand tightened on her thigh. She pumped her hand up and down his length a few times before her eyes found his tip which was leaking. She swiped her thumb across it and his hips thrust up, nearly throwing her off of his lap. ‘My good girl, so good for me! Such a good little Bunny for your Daddy! Don’t stop? Please?!’ He held her hand and helped her speed up for a few moments before looking back down at her and his eyes flashing to her lips. ‘Y/n…will you do something else for me?’

She nodded quickly. ‘Anything Daddy.’

Fuck! He could have cum right there and been completely happy with it but he pushed it back. ‘Please? Daddy needs your lips.’

‘My-my lips?’

He nodded. ‘Please? Just the tip if you want, suck on it like I gave you a lollipop…can you do that Precious?’ She looked back down at his cock before smiling and nodding her head, moving from his lap and kneeling. He could see the excitement in her eyes and he knew right away he was creating a desperate whore. He was going to ruin this girl and he couldn’t care any fucking less, she would belong to no one but him for the rest of eternity and he would never let anyone else touch her perfect body so…how wrong is it really?

She wrapped her lips around his tip and suckled, tongue running over his slit which made his legs stiffen and shake as she did it again, dragging her lips down his length and moaning. That was the final straw for him. He had imagined her mouth and her noises so many times and nothing came close to this, she was perfection and she was never getting away from him. He held the back of her head still as he came up into her mouth and though she jerked a bit at first she got used to it and quickly swallowed, sucking on his cock for more. ‘Did I make you feel better?’ He couldn’t speak, only nod in that moment of total bliss, head thrown back against the couch to keep her from seeing the dark veins under his golden eyes until he could get his hybrid visage under control again, Fuck this girl does things to him! ‘Can I have more cream Daddy?’

‘Oh Fuck!’ Her innocent eyes and words were going to push him over the edge much too quickly. ‘Daddy…Daddy wants to give you more cream. I’ll give you Daddy cream all you want Babygirl but…do you think Daddy can put it somewhere else?’ She tilted her head, looking up at him from her knees. ‘Do you trust me?’ Y/n nodded her head quickly and he smirked, knowing this would be easier than he thought. ‘Can I show you?’

‘Yes Daddy.’ God he’s going to stretch her pussy so much this weekend there will be a permanent indentation of his cock. He lifted her up and laid her onto the couch, throwing his shirt away and grabbing ahold of hers, pulling it off and quickly keeping her arms from covering her perfect tits. They were just the perfect size for his hands and so fucking cute that he couldn’t resist leaning down and wrapping his lips around a nipple, her hips flying up when his teeth nibbled. He took full advantage, dragging his hands down her sides and holding onto her shorts and panties, nibbling again and pulling the clothes down and off as her hips thrust up again. ‘Daddy!’

‘Shh…it’s okay Y/n, it’s just Daddy. I love you Bunny, and I want to spend the rest of eternity at your side making your pussy drip for me, do…do you want me?’ He asked, seeming nervous so that she feels needier for him.

‘Yes Daddy, forever but…you’re my teacher, how-‘

‘You let me worry about that, Daddy will make it all okay…just let Daddy…let Daddy inside of you.’ He groaned, pushing her legs apart and squeezing her thighs with an image of his girl round with his baby burned into his brain, silently begging whatever Gods exist if any to allow him to be able to put a baby in his Little Bunny. Leaning his face down into her wetness he licked his tongue up her slit, lapping at her like a thirsty animal before caressing her clit with the tip of his tongue.

‘Oh Daddy! Don’t Stop! Please?!’ He didn’t, he shoved his face into her cunt and ate her like his life depends on it. He wrapped his hand around hers as he wiggled his tongue against her clit and felt her legs lock around his head as she reached her peak for the first time ever, crying out so loud he knew the neighbors would hear if he’d had any. When he pulled away he crawled back up her chest and kissed her neck, lining his cock up at her hole and pushing his way into her before she had time to have doubts, still on cloud nine as he pushed the last 2 inches in a short thrust and she squealed.

‘That’s it Bunny, oh god you’re so perfect. So fucking perfect! So tight on my-‘

‘Daddy! Y-You’re in-inside…you can’t-‘

‘Clearly I can. And I am.’ He turned her face to look up at him and made sure she was looking him in the eyes. ‘My cock is in your pussy right now, so deep you can practically feel me in your guts, can’t you?’ She nodded, whining. ‘This is my pussy now, all mine. No one can ever take you away from me…you have the most perfect cunt I’ve ever seen baby.’ He pulled back a few inches before pushing in again and pressing his lips to her lips for the first time. ‘Tell me Bunny, what was it you wanted from Daddy?’

‘Daa-ah!’ He thrust up again when she didn’t answer and he smirked, feeling his fangs trying to push out of his gums as he became more and more desperate to mark her.

‘Tell me what you wanted.’

‘D-Daddy cream…wanted m-more Daddy cream…please Daddy? Can I have more?’ She was begging now, whining in desperation for his cum in her womb.

‘Daddy will always give you cream. Daddy’s gonna fill you with so much you’ll be leaking for days. We’re going to fill you with cream for the next 2 days and maybe I’ll keep you even longer just to make sure it’s all properly fucked into you.’

‘Yes! Daddy cream! Want you inside me Daddy, inside me forever! Your cock feels so good! Why did no one tell me it feels so good! Can you stay inside me forever? Daddy, please?’

‘Oh Bunny…Daddy’s gonna breed this little body so much, gonna fill you with my cum over and over again until you’re a leaking, fucked out mess, until all you can do is whine and babble my fucking name! Until all you can say is ‘please Daddy more?’ And I’ll fill you over and over until it takes and you’re carrying my baby inside of your gorgeous body.’ Her eyes widened as she looked up at him, his hips thrusting harder as she realized what he meant, what he was really doing. ‘That’s right Bunny, you’re gonna give Daddy babies, gonna fill you with my babies over and over and still you’ll be desperate for more. Cause you know what bunnies do? They breed, they breed like crazy, they get Fucked-‘ he thrust hard getting deeper into her, now holding her legs up and getting as deep as he physically can. ‘-until they can’t anymore and then they do it again cause they’re so needy and desperate and slutty that they can’t stop. You have a slutty little pussy Bunny, are you ready for Daddy to fill it?’

He knew he wouldn’t stop even if she said ‘no’ but he wanted her to want it, because she is his for the rest of eternity. ‘P-please? Daddy cream! Fill my pussy Daddy! Please?!’

‘That’s my good girl. Daddy’s good girl, gonna be so full of me! Fuck!’ He shoved his cock into her as deeply as he could, feeling her pussy squeezing him through her own orgasm and practically milking his cock for all he could give her and Klaus had never felt so blissful, not in 1000 years.

He kept himself buried inside of her cunt, holding her close and pulling a blanket over the both of them, nuzzling into her throat to find some comfort before drifting off to sleep with the TV sound in the background.

Sometime in the night Klaus had moved them upstairs to his bed and cleaned the both of them up. Later that morning he was awoken by the girl in his arms moving, opening his eyes to see her sitting up and keeping the sheet wrapped around her body.

‘I saw it all last night gorgeous, might as well leave the sheet.’ She turned her head to look down at him and as soon as he saw the tears in her eyes he was moving. ‘Oh no, Bunny! No tears, why are you crying?’ To his relief she didn’t fight him, crying into his bare chest as he held her.

‘What am I going to do?!’ She cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and sniffling.

‘What do you mean? You’re going to stay right here, with me. I love you Y/n, and all you and I did last night was show our love for each other, there’s nothing wrong with that-‘

‘Unless I’m Pregnant! My Mom Is Going To Kill Me! I’m a disappointment to God and my father-Oh God My Father! He’s gonna kill me-‘ Klaus clamped his hand over Y/n’s mouth to stop her sobbing.

‘No one is Ever going to hurt you, and do you know why?’ She shook her head, tears streaming down her sweet face which he reached to wipe away. ‘Because you’re my Little Bunny. All mine. You asked last night why you weren’t told how good you could feel, remember?’ She nodded. ‘You weren’t told so that they could control you. You’re almost an adult and no one told you about anything, that’s wrong and cruel and dangerous! You gave yourself to me last night and I am going to spend the rest of our lives worshipping my girl like a Princess…you still love me…don’t you?’

‘Yes! Of course I do Klaus! I love you so much but my father will never let me be with you! He doesn’t care what I want, he will choose my husband once I graduate-‘

‘Y/n, you’ve already chosen. You’re 18, an adult, able to make your own choices. No one can tell you what to do anymore unless you want them to…we can go. Go back to the school, pack your things, I’ll quit my job and we can be together.’ Klaus knew when he looked at her curious eyes that he had her, he was going to make this happen and the best part is Y/n will think she made her own decision for the first time ever.

‘But what about your job? We’ll go live together with no income? I won’t have a diploma so I can’t get a job to-‘

‘You will never have a job!’ Klaus swore and she looked startled. ‘I have plenty of money, I’m an artist, I sell my work all the time. I worked in that school because…because I fell in love with you. I know it’s crazy, of course it is but I couldn’t leave you Y/n! You were already my everything…please tell me you’ll come with me? I can give you everything you’ve ever wanted! A wonderful house on acres and acres of woods and privacy, no one to bother us…except maybe my siblings on occasion but they’ll love you! Your parents won’t be able to control you anymore. You can wear what you want, anything you want, eat what you want, read, write, study, learn whatever you want! I’ll give you jewelry and silk sheets, a maid, the library you always talk about wanting, I can-‘

‘I just want you…’ Klaus’ eyes widened at her soft words. ‘I don’t need all that fancy stuff if I have you…don’t get me wrong, it sounds wonderful but can…can you promise me you’ll never leave me? That it will always be us for the rest of forever?’

He smirked at that, knowing instantly that the deal was sealed, Y/n is all his. ‘Forever and a day my precious girl. I love you so much, and we’re going to be so happy together.’ Y/n grinned, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his lips to hers in a wonderful, needy kiss. ‘I’m going to make you scream in pleasure every night until you can’t remember your own name anymore, Bunny.’

She pulled back from his lips, peeking up at him with a shy look. ‘Daddy’s gonna give me babies?’

And just like that his cock was so hard he felt like a teenager again, desperately horny with an erection that won’t quit. Y/n is going to be full of him there’s no way she won’t end up carrying his child and he already has plans to speak to a witch about ensuring it. ‘Daddy’s going to fill you with babies everyday, every single day until it takes. Gonna keep you so full you won’t know what it’s like to be empty anymore…in fact, we should fill you up before we go get your things, shouldn’t we?’ Y/n squealed as Klaus lifted her, sitting her onto his lap and holding her up with one arm around her waist as he lined his cock up with her dripping hole. ‘Already soaking wet for Daddy, my needy little whore. So perfect-‘ She gasped loudly, looking down at him in desperation.

‘Not a whore Daddy! I’m not! I would never-‘

‘No, Shh, Shh, Shh. It’s okay Princess, My whore. Daddy’s whore, My girl who will do all the wonderful, depraved things Daddy wants you to. Do you understand? Not A whore, My whore. Any other cock comes anywhere near you I’ll cut it off and stick it up their ass.’ He pushed his cock up into her and she whined, still a bit sore from last night but feeling too good to care.

They ended up staying in bed for another 4 hours, Klaus filling his girl 3 more times before taking a nap together. Getting to the school and compelling the Dean was arguably too easy and they were long gone before Y/n’s parents ever came looking for her. It’s not like they would want her back with how badly Klaus had corrupted her.

Their little girl was gone.

She’s Klaus’ Little Bunny now.

Religious Teachings Moodboard

Klaus Mikaelson Masterlist

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wholoveseggs · 1 year ago

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~♡~Dating the Mikaelsons~♡~

One-Shot Edition

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

♡A date with Klaus♡

After a long day at work, you just want to go home and relax. Fortunately Klaus knows exactly what you need to unwind.

In celebration of getting to one-hundred followers♡ I wrote some smutty one-shots based on my dating the mikaelsons headcanons.

♡ Thanks for all the love and support ♡

Warnings: smut, rough sex, biting, blowjobs, rim jobs, all the jobs...I firmly believe Klaus loves booty.

{Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

After an exceedingly long day, exhaustion had fully seeped into your bones, leaving you feeling burdened and emotionally numb. Exiting your workplace, you headed towards your car, desperate to get home and relax. Rifling through your bag for your keys, you extracted them along with a neatly folded piece of paper.

Intrigued, you unfolded it, revealing a charming sketch of your profile gazing out of a café window. The guy you were seeing must have snuck it into your bag. You smiled, the thoughtfulness of it warming your heart. You pulled out your phone, sending him a thank-you text.

You

"I found your drawing, thank you. I've had a tough day, and this made it a bit better."

Nik

"Which one?"

You paused. There had been multiple drawings? You hadn't seen anything else in your bag. You typed back a quick reply.

You

"There was more than one?"

Nik

"Maybe..."

You unlocked your car, climbing into the seat, closing the door behind you, and pulling your bag onto your lap.

Sure enough, there were several more folded pieces of paper. You pulled them all out and unfolded them. The first was an intricate study of the hands of a man and woman, fingers laced together, palms touching. The second was a silly doodle of you, looking grumpy and flipping off the viewer.

You giggled. It was actually a great likeness. The next one made you blush and look around. It was an illustration of the two of you, nude, kissing in an intimate position. Your face was obscured by his, but the details were quite erotic.

Your body flushed at the thought of him touching you; you hadn't even kissed yet, let alone seen each other naked.

You

"I found the other ones, very creative,"

Nik

"I'm glad you like them, are you busy tonight?"

You paused. What did he want to do? You had planned on vegging out and watching some mindless television. But that sounded incredibly dull.

You

"No, why?"

Nik

"Good. I'll pick you up,"

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat, feeling the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter. You had a feeling you were going to be staying up late.

You had no idea where he was taking you; Klaus hadn’t given you any hints, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he had planned.

You were sitting in the car with him, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. It was a beautiful evening, the sky painted a brilliant hue of purple and blue.

You glanced over at him, admiring how attractive he was. You knew that he was a vampire, a powerful one at that, but you didn't mind. You had known others, and none of them were dangerous. At least not to you.

"I thought we could take a walk; I want to show you some of my favorite places," he said as he drove.

"I would love to see them," you replied, smiling at him.

He parked the car, and the two of you climbed out, making your way down the street. It was a clear night, the air crisp and refreshing, and you could hear the sounds of traffic and the chatter of people from a distance.

Klaus walked close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours every few steps. His presence was soothing, and you felt comfortable with him. He casually took your hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours.

You looked up at him and smiled. He returned the smile, squeezing your hand.

"This is the park I like to draw in," he explained. "It's quiet, and the light is beautiful in the morning."

The two of you walked, talking and enjoying the view. He seemed to know a lot about the city and pointed out different buildings, sharing stories from his past.

You found yourself growing more and more attracted to him, the more he shared about himself.

"What was it like here, one hundred years ago?" you asked.

"It was different, but not that much. There were fewer people, and the buildings weren't as tall. It was quieter, I suppose."

You nodded, enjoying the sound of his voice. You loved hearing him talk; his accent was so alluring. You walked in silence for a while, and then he led you over to a bench, and the two of you sat.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked.

"Of course." you replied, giving him a gentle smile.

"I love this city; I helped make it what it is, but as time passes, sometimes I feel like I'm a stranger here."

You nodded, understanding, "You must see time so differently from me," you mused. "I can't imagine how it must feel."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes staring out into the darkness.

"It can be lonely," he said, finally. "But with you, I don't feel that way."

You intertwined your fingers with his, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. He leaned in, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shiver through you, and you found yourself wanting him.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips with yours. He kissed you softly, his lips warm and inviting. You felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands wandered, caressing your back, and tangling in your hair.

You broke the kiss, looking into his pretty blue eyes, "Do you want to show me your place?" you asked, your voice a breathy whisper.

His eyes flashed, a smirk spreading across his face, "It would be my pleasure."

He took your hand, leading you back to the car. The drive to his place was filled with a heavy silence, both of you knowing what was about to happen.

You had seen the outside of the compound many times, but you had never been inside before; it was gorgeous, the décor was expensive and tasteful.

"Wow, your home is beautiful," you remarked, your heels clicking against the floor.

"Thank you," he said, smirking. "I decorated it myself."

The compound was quiet; everyone else was out or asleep. You followed him into his room, your heart racing.

He closed the door, turning to face you. He reached out, cupping your cheek. His touch was gentle and loving, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"You are so lovely," he murmured, his thumb stroking your skin.

You blushed, the heat rising in your cheeks. You placed your hands on his chest, running them up to his shoulders, feeling his muscles beneath his shirt.

You stepped closer, closing the distance between you. Your lips brushed against his, and you kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You pressed your body against his, feeling his hardness.

He pulled away, his eyes flashing yellow. He picked you up, carrying you over to the bed, laying you down gently. He climbed on top of you, his mouth trailing kisses along your neck and collarbone.

He lifted the dress off of you, tossing it aside. You laid there in nothing but your underwear, his gaze raking over your body.

"Nik," you breathed, your voice full of need.

He leaned down, his mouth on your breast, his tongue swirling over your nipple. You moaned, arching your back. You gasped, feeling his fingers sliding down your abdomen, and under the waistband of your panties.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered, his hands caressing your skin.

"So have I," you replied, lifting your head and pressing your lips to his.

His fingers circled your clit, eliciting moans from your lips. You closed your eyes, his touch was quickly driving you crazy, pushing you to the edge. He watched your face, a wicked grin on his lips.

"How do you like it, love?" he whispered, his voice low and seductive as his lips grazed your skin.

You blushed, heat pooling between your legs. "I like it a little rough," you breathed, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

"I always suspected you were a naughty girl," he whispered, as he nibbled at your ear. You gasped, pleasure coursing through you.

He began to move down your body, leaving a trail of soft bites and kisses. He paused at your breasts, sucking on your nipples, his tongue swirling around them. You moaned, squirming beneath him.

He continued down, his teeth grazing your skin. He hooked a finger under your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. You were completely exposed to him now, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Just beautiful," he breathed, as he dragged his teeth along your inner thigh.

He moved lower, kissing and licking your stomach. His hand slipped between your legs, his thumb grazing your clit.

"Nik," you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as he moved further down.

He removed his hand, his tongue taking its place. He licked and sucked on your clit, his hands pushed your thighs up, giving him more room. You bucked your hips, grinding against his mouth.

He chucked, the vibrations causing a wave of pleasure to course through you. He pushed his tongue inside of you, moving it in and out, his nose grazing your clit.

You moaned, your hands tangling in his curly hair. "Fuck," you breathed, as his tongue drove you closer and closer to the edge.

His tongue moved lower than you expected, teasing your ass. Your eyes widened, a thrill of strange pleasure running through you, your hips jumped and you instinctively tried to push away from him.

"Mmm, love," he whispered, "you like when I do that, don’t you?"

You blushed, heat rising in your cheeks. You nodded, biting your lip.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillow.

He returned his tongue to your ass, teasing and probing it, sending sparks of pleasure through you. Pressing his thumb firmly against your clit, Klaus maintained a rhythm that matched the dance of his tongue. Circles and teasing strokes sent waves of pleasure through you, the combination of sensations leaving you breathless, gripping the sheets as you trembled underneath him. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he pushed his tongue in your ass just as he lightly pinched your clit and you cried out, your whole body shaking from the force of your orgasm.

You were spent and panting, gripping Klaus’s hair so hard you nearly tore it out. He chuckled and buried his face deeper in your ass, groaning in pleasure. He swirled his fingers around your clit, feeling how wet you were before he pushed two fingers inside your pussy, hitting your sweet spot.

"Fuck!" you moaned, unable to believe how good it felt. He smiled and continued his assault, pumping his fingers in and out while keeping his mouth busy. His grip on you was almost painful as he held your hips in place, burying his face between your cheeks, his tongue deep inside you.

The soft, wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your pussy mingled with his labored breathing. He pushed them in deeper, fucking you harder, each thrust making you moan uncontrollably. You were in a state of pure ecstasy, your whole body tingling, every inch of you vibrating with pleasure. You could feel his groans and grunts reverberating through you, and you pushed against him, desperate for more.

The pressure built inside you until you felt like you were about to explode. You pulled on his hair, pushing back against him with everything you had as you reached your climax. Your whole body trembled as you came, your orgasm washing over you in waves of pure bliss. The sound of his groans as he devoured you filled the room, adding to your ecstasy.

You slumped against the bed, a trembling wreck. Klaus withdrew, leaving you feeling empty, but sated. He wiped his mouth and chin and grinned, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He kissed his way back up your body, his hands caressing your skin.

"No one's ever done that for you before?" he asked, his eyes dark with desire.

You shook your head, blushing.

"Good," he replied, he hovered over you, giving you a mischievous grin. Your fingers trailed down his chest then towards his stomach, tugging at his shirt. He lifted his arms, allowing you to remove it. Your hands explored his body, fingers tracing over his muscles, committing him to memory. He smiled, enjoying your touch as you placed soft kisses on his chest, looking up into his eyes.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours. His kisses were hungry and desperate, his hands squeezing your curves. You grasped at his belt, unbuckling it, and pulling it off. You reached into his pants, wrapping your hand around his cock, smirking as he lets out a low moan. You began to stroke him, feeling him grow harder, maintaining eye contact as you watched him groan with pleasure.

"Love," he panted, his voice thick with arousal.

"Can I taste you?" you ask, your breath ghosting over him. He nods in response, his hips bucking as you continue to stroke him.

He moved on to his back, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you lay kisses down his neck and chest, the feeling of your warm lips making him pant. Your hand never left his cock, never once slowing, and he watched as you used your other hand to gently pinch his nipple, making him hiss out a breath, his teeth clamping together. You felt empowered as you watched him melt under your touch, the big bad hybrid brought to his knees with just your hands. You trailed your tongue from his chest, lower, and lower, not even trying to hide how much you were enjoying his responses.

You finally reached his cock, settling yourself between his legs and looking up at him with innocent, doe eyes. You smirked, holding his gaze as you gripped his cock and slid the head between your parted lips, swirling your tongue around his tip, eliciting a deep guttural groan from him. You lowered yourself down on his throbbing length, taking as much of him as you could handle. Then you slowly pulled off, his cock wet with your saliva, and he moaned, his hands fisting the sheets.

"Do you like that, Nik?" You asked in your most innocent tone. Giving the head of his cock kitten licks as you watched his face.

"Yes," he moaned, his hips jerking. You plunged him into your mouth again, and took him deeper than before. He moaned and thrust his hips up as you worked him with your mouth, his hand coming to tangle in your hair, guiding you. You teased him with your tongue, licking and flicking it over the veins, taking him deep into your mouth and then pulling off with a pop.

"What about this?" You asked, teasing him some more, relishing in the power you had over him. You felt a surge of heat and wetness pool between your thighs, anticipating what he was going to do to you if you pushed him too far.

He growled in frustration and grabbed your hair roughly, pushing your head down on his cock, holding you in place as he thrusted into your mouth. You reached between his legs, stroking his balls, and he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening.

You continued to bob up and down on his cock, loving the way his hips jerked as he got closer and closer to his orgasm. You could feel his balls tighten, and you knew he was about to come.

You pushed your head all the way down, your nose pressing into his pelvis, you let out a soft hum, pushing him over the edge. He let out a low groan as he came, his cum spilling down your throat, you swallowed every last drop.

He released his grip, and you pulled off his cock, gasping for air. You held out your tongue to him, showing him you swallowed it all, and he let out a low, primal growl, snatching you by your hair and crashing his lips against yours. You breathed heavily, your heart pounding as you kissed him back, feeling the stubble scratch at your chin.

His hands slid down to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips and suddenly you were across the room, pressed against the wall, you let out a shocked gasp, clinging to his shoulders. He gripped the backs of your thighs and hiked your legs around his waist, using one hand to tease his cock up and down your entrance.

"Nik," you whispered, your voice full of surprise and desire.

"Have you ever been bitten?" He asked, you could feel his warm breath against your neck.

"No, I've never been with a vampire before," you replied breathlessly, gazing at him from under your eyelashes. You felt a rush of excitement and your legs started to tremble.

He raised one eyebrow and a sexy, playful grin formed on his lips. "I'm a hybrid, love, far superior," he teased, kissing your neck softly, then tracing your jugular with his tongue.

You moaned, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you still as he scraped his fangs over your skin. He slowly pushed himself into you, and you threw your head back, moaning as his thick, hard cock stretched you open.

"Fuck," you moaned, as his lips captured yours. He kissed you with such ferocity, sucking on your bottom lip, it was almost violent, and you loved it. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging on it, feeling him groan into the kiss, causing his thrusts to speed up and intensify. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, urging him on. You bit your lip to suppress your moan, knowing someone could be in the compound.

"Don't be shy, sweetheart," he teased, his pretty accent giving you goosebumps as he continued thrusting into you, "It's just us. I want to hear you."

You flushed and tried to stay quiet, but the things he was doing to you had you moaning, crying out, and begging for more. You buried your face in his neck, biting down on his shoulder, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Fuck, yes, bite me, love," he encouraged, his hips snapping into yours.

You obeyed, biting down harder, hoping to leave a mark. You gasped, your jaw going slack as his fucked you senseless against the wall. Your head was swimming, and all you could focus on was the feel of his cock buried inside you, and the iron grip he had on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin so hard you knew they would leave bruises.

He pounded into you, his lips finding yours, swallowing your moans. He broke the kiss, his voice hoarse, "So pretty and all mine," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours, full of adoration.

"Nik," you breathed, his name sounding like a prayer on your lips.

He moved a hand up, wrapping it around your throat, gently squeezing, restricting your breathing. You moaned, a shot of adrenaline mixed with pleasure coursing through you. He increased his pace, and you knew he was close, his cock swelling, his pace becoming erratic.

"Are you gonna come for me, love?" he whispered, fucking you harder.

You couldn't answer, his grip on your throat was too tight, but he growled, sensing your closeness. He ground his pelvis into your clit, sending you over the edge. Your whole body was trembling as you came, pulsating around him, he growled, sinking his fangs into your neck, the sharp pain only adding to the intensity of the orgasm.

You felt the blood rush out of your neck, the orgasm ripping through you in waves, his hips never slowed, still fucking you hard, his cock throbbing as he continued to drink your blood. You cried out as his thrusts became frantic, his pace inhumanly fast and you knew he was about to come. As your orgasm started to ebb, you felt his cock pulse, and his release spilled inside of you.

He retracted his fangs, pressing his lips to the wounds and began to place soft kisses along your neck, his hips jerking as he rode out the last of his climax. You clung to him, your whole body throbbing as your orgasm finally began to subside, and you felt weak, your strength gone. He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, panting heavily.

"Bloody hell," he said between breaths, giving you a wild smile as he kissed you. His hand moved to the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently. You sighed, closing your eyes, feeling his weight on top of you.

"That was incredible, love," he whispered, placing kisses on your jawline. You lay there, panting, enjoying the post-orgasmic glow, letting his lips wander.

"Enjoy yourself?" he teased, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms, your head resting on his chest.

"Very much," you replied, turning your head to kiss him.

"Good, because we're not finished yet."

You giggled. "We aren't?"

"Not even close, love."

{Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

Authors Note: I find calling him Nik really hot... anyone else?

663 notes · View notes

aklaustaleteller · 4 months ago

Text

Like A Barge At Sea

Since Klaus admitted to infidelity, the harrowing pain of losing her family, her happiness, and her love has Y/n clutched in its arms, crushing her in its tight grip for what felt like was going to be forever. But will Klaus be able to hold a certain grudge against her for long? And if he can, then should he have?

Warnings - Quite mean arguments, mentions of heartbreak, infidelity, killing and blood.

Word Count - 4.4k

Masterlist | please reblog the fic if you like it!

Now, once again, long time no see, everyone? I'm so sorry it took me a month to get back to you with this -- the second part to 'Said Yes To Heaven'! I can't even believe I'm writing this and I'm sure you can't believe your eyes either fjskbf. In case you haven't read the first part, I highly recommend that you do! Also, thank you to everyone who pressed me for a part two, without you, this fic would not have happened!! And finally, I really really hope you enjoy reading this!!

A week had passed since Y/n confronted Klaus about the infidelity, and he had said admitted to it as if he hadn't been the one in wrong.

She had desperately been wanting to move out, to get away from him but for the sake of their little girl, and her only, she just moved out of their shared bedroom and into one of rooms for the guests.

Klaus was home less and less, probably to avoid her but not absolutely absent because of his undeniable love for Hope. Y/n just wished that he’d have kept the same love for her as well.

But that didn't mean that whatever of a relationship that was left between them was just mean, petty taunts and narrow-eyed glares. Because even now, there were stolen glances, sneaky grazes of touch, one losing their identity in the other one's eyes until the latter one would blink hastily to disguise the sudden shine in their eyes and move on with their day without daring to steal a glance even just one more time.

And now, instead of the staring bringing a maroon glow upon their cheeks, it brought forth a wave of rage to coarse through their stiff bodies because how dare the other one look so longingly at them while clearly being red handed?

Right now, Y/n was sat in Hope's nursery, breastfeeding her in the middle of night when Klaus had come to wake her up about her hunger. Her gaze was set upon her daughter, whose eyes were merely open in even slits anymore.

Perhaps that was because Klaus hadn't left once Y/n had come into the nursery. He was sitting on the floor a little far from the rocking chair she was on, his arms around his knees as he hugged his legs close to his chest.

Y/n didn't have it in her to ask him to leave. Maybe because she was exhausted, or because she didn't quite trust her voice to not give out on her. Every sparing minute that she spent with him in her sight, she wished so badly that he hadn't gone on and messed everything up.

How could he had done it? How could the man, so paranoid regarding his family that he threatened his ex-girlfriend with her life to stay far away from his home, had gone on to bring infidelity into his relationship with the same woman? It was beyond Y/n's comprehensive limits, she feared.

Y/n hadn’t told anyone, in fear of the ‘one gasp and then, how did it end?’ that she’d receive and further on, have to answer. She wasn’t at that level of acceptance, yet.

With each glance that she spared at him, with her guards low, all she wanted to do was curl up into a ball and sob hysterically because he had stolen away her nights, her love, her perfect little family and her happiness from her. He had stolen himself, and everything else from her and she wasn't sure if she was coping so well with all of it.

She couldn't raise her gaze because she knew that he was already looking at her, with those green eyes swarming with something she refused to recognise as love. She had to begin taking in deep breaths because the mere thought of looking into his eyes was making her eyes sting.

And, once what felt like the millionth minute, passed in overrated comfortable silence, Y/n was sure that she heard a choked back sob escape Klaus. And that was enough to make the tear in her eyes to deceive her and fall upon the soft clothing on Hope's little frame.

Another tear fell then, and Y/n had to at the end, sniffle, and that made Klaus sprint out of the room.

Broken down in sobs, Y/n held herself together within a white-knuckled fist and put a fast asleep Hope back in her crib, pressing another kiss somewhere on her face before she too, hurriedly walked out of the room towards the guest room, losing herself throughout the entire way with shaking shoulders and held-within sobs that wreaked havoc inside her chest and held her throat with an iron-tight grip.

—

"Can we talk for a bit?" Y/n spoke monotonously, looking straight ahead instead of looking at Klaus, who looked as worn down as if he'd sparred with a dozen people.

She almost asked him about it, out of an old habit, but held her tongue.

"I'm not so su--"

"It's about Hope," Y/n cut him off, looking into his eyes for a split second before he broke the contact first.

He sat down on the sofa’s farthest end with a huff, looking at the ground.

"I don't want what's going on between us to affect Hope," she began, and that had Klaus raising his gaze with such accusatory eyes that Y/n wanted to scream at him for that itself.

"She's growing up too fast. I don't wish for either of us to miss out on her childhood, maybe her first words even," with a quivering voice, she finished, rubbing her sweaty palms on her jeans.

His jaw was clenched, and she wanted to scoff because of the attitude that held his frame so uptight.

"I'm well aware," Klaus began, his eyes holding distance in them. "I'm her father as well, you see? I don't need you teaching me parenting now."

Scoffing, Y/n shook her head. This was not the way she wanted this to go.

"It clearly seems like you do, since you're barely home," she said curtly, daring him to look her in the eyes and then pretend that he hadn't legitimately cheated on her.

Klaus got up at that. "I would be home more if it weren't for your looming presence!" He exclaimed, raking one hand through his hair before clutching it on the back of his head.

"My looming presence!" Y/n shouted, completely taken aback before hurt began to settle it. "You cheated on me, you bastard!"

"I'm not doing this tonight," Klaus mumbled before he disappeared into the master bedroom.

Eyes turned blacker than her worst nights and the golden rim of an eclipse shining through, Y/n clenched her fists to the extent that she almost wanted for her knuckles to rip open the skin stretching upon them. Brimming with a burning hate, she harshly wiped the tears off her cheeks.

"I hate you!" She screamed, breaking down into sobs when Hope's wailing tore apart the house and Klaus slammed the door shut after showing to Y/n the sight of Hope clung onto his chest as he lulled her.

"You're okay, little wolf," she heard him whisper. "Just a thunder, s' all," he cooed, and Y/n held her head tightly, crouching, wishing to rip her ears out or rip his throat out.

But most overwhelmingly, she felt guilt swallowing her contorted face. She'd gone to talk about saving Hope from the trauma of her parent's failed marriage, and then proceeded to produce a blood-curdling scream knowing the little one was sensitive to the smallest of sighs.

And then Klaus' hateful glare looking down upon her flashed through her mind and she raced out of the house before realising that there was no one she could run off to.

So, upon returning, she sat on the porch of their home, tears icy on her skin as she cried with a shaking body, eyes set on the open sky while everything inside of her begged for all of this horror to be taken back and for her intricately built family to be returned to her.

—

Klaus' eyes hurt, for the never-ending pain wouldn't stop seeping through the cracks in his eyes on the nights when all he wanted was to give in to peace by lying down in his lonely bed with his wife and their little wolf, once again.

And it feels unfair that he's the one losing his mind, the one who's been robbed of his entire life when she's the one who crumpled his heart in her fist by throwing an allegation of infidelity at him.

He hadn't cheated. And he knew that saying this to Y/n would end both of their miseries, but he couldn't quite bring himself to it. What would he say now, since he didn't deny her the very night she'd confronted him about it?

Still, he remembered the tiredness weighing down her eyes and tension twisting each one of her features in a stoned manner. So innocently, she'd asked him after taking a shuddering breath – "did you sleep with Aurora?"

The horror in her eyes had been evident when the love-sickness had drained down his whole posture and his eyes had transitioned from confusion to hurt to a cold, empty gaze in a matter of seconds.

He waited for her to apologise or to break out laughing, saying she was just joking, for a couple minutes. But when she kept on staring at him with wide eyes that held nothing but shock and betrayal in them, he'd swallowed the lump in his throat, accepting that that was just how it was going to be.

"Yes. Yes I did," he'd spat, hoping the anger lacing his tone would make her think. Think that of course he hadn't, how could she think of him in such a way? But she instead slapped him across the face with flared nostrils and tears streaking her cheeks and sped away.

He'd lost control that night and raced away from home as he transitioned into his wolf with one final leap into the forest.

He'd howled the loudest in a long, long time, that night. He'd felt it resonate through his chest and leak through the corners of his eyes as he'd moved through the forest with the wind, leaving behind traces of his tears.

But, upon returning, he realised that maybe he'd been a little too dramatic. Maybe, he'd just cried wolf. He'd showered and hoped that after dinner, they could sit and be civil about it all and work through his hurdle together.

But when he saw her hurting, the knife in his chest twisted deeper as he realised just how easily she'd believed it to be true.

Leaving it to rest for a couple days, Klaus kept on hoping that she'd see for herself what she'd been doing and come around to him. But she never did, and he felt himself fading away day by day.

The previous night, he'd been sitting by the window in the master bedroom, watching over her crumbling figure out on the porch and hating himself for having done this to her. And with resolution, he'd straightened his back and turned away, reminding himself that he wasn't the one with tainted hands.

And despite that, he'd gone over to check whether she'd fallen asleep or not, and then he’d carried her back to the room, laying her down beside Hope's crib while he went to sleep on the sofa in the corner of the room.

—

Y/n was limping.

In a flash Klaus was standing in front of her, holding onto her shoulders and looking down at her leg which seemed a little crooked.

“What happened?” Klaus asked, eyes set on the trail of blood that had seeped through her pants, staining it.

She shook off his hands then, turning to walk away and up the stairs. She could’ve sped up, but she also should’ve been healed by now considering the fact that she was a hybrid.

Taking advantage of the situation, Klaus sped in front of her, just a step above her on the staircase. He flinched when her eyes flashed golden, but due to reflex, he knew his eyes had flashed as well when he saw the reflection in her sombre eyes.

“C’mon, tell me,” he whispered, hoping that she’d drop the attitude and just answer him for once.

“I don’t know,” she began, and Klaus’ shoulders visibly relaxed. “I was running, then something came flying at me and hit me on the leg,” she shrugged, and Klaus could hear that she wasn’t breathing necessarily enough.

So he backed up a couple steps, and leaned on the railing of the staircase.

“But you should’ve healed right away,” Klaus pushed, the wheels in his head turning while a frown settled deep between his brows. “Unless…”

“It was a sneak attack,” Y/n finished for him, sighing.

“Were you turned when you were running?” Klaus asked, moving closer to her as anger began tightening his features and the muscles in his arms flexed under the thin shirt when he fisted his palms.

“Yes, Klaus.”

It felt strange, the way she said his name with no emotion lingering on it. But Klaus shook off the feeling, pushing it to the back of his head to dwell on it later in the night.

“So you must’ve caught a sniff!” Klaus exclaimed, hyped that they were getting somewhere. But then he deflated, “if it were someone you’ve met,” he trailed off, now biting his lip.

“I did, catch a sniff,” Y/n began, standing up straighter as ferocity came ablaze in her eyes.

Both of them stared at each other in silence, before a certain realisation dawned upon Klaus and he opened his mouth only for no words to come out.

“You’re right,” Y/n gritted her teeth, affirming Klaus’ unspoken conclusion. “I would’ve finished her off right there had you not… been on my mind,” Y/n stole her gaze from him then, looking down on the flooring from the sidelines of the staircase.

Shaking off some of his anger to focus on his wife, Klaus offered her his hand. “Come, you’ll need the whole night to heal.” But when she refused to acknowledge it, he exhaled frustratedly.

Still, when she took no action, Klaus picked her up like he had on the day they’d …said yes to heaven when saying yes to one another, and carried her to the bedroom at a normal pace, just to agitate further.

“Fuck you!” Y/n gritted out her last protest, hitting his chest one last time before he was lying her down on the bed and walking back out the door with a smile he wasn’t hiding well.

He turned in the doorway then, looking at her with raised eyebrows. “Don’t try to clean up yourself, I’ll be back in a moment,” he nodded at her one last time before he was speeding away and out of the house in a flash.

Y/n, who was left behind feeling nothing but the static silence inside of her, moved so that she was sitting closer to Hope’s crib.

She began thinking if, only for Hope, she should give Klaus another chance. But then, he hadn’t even asked for one.

Caressing Hope’s head, Y/n slipped her fingers into her hair. The strands were only inches long so far, but it almost felt like her hair had grown overnight. That made Y/n’s chest heavy, realising that even after trying so hard, she had missed out upon the subtle things of Hope’s childhood, already.

And, that was because she had been wallowing in her own misery the whole time.

She wanted nothing more than to put this blame on Klaus as well, but instead, Y/n brushed away her tears and lied down with Hope on top of her.

The little girl was sound-asleep, but still she managed to fist Y/n’s shirt and snuggle closer to her.

Y/n began to rub her back then, staring at the ceiling wondering what Klaus had gone out for. Maybe to confront Aurora for going too far, and crossing the line. Y/n felt herself shrink when she realised that the possibility of that was way too high for her liking.

She pondered as to why he hadn’t asked her for another chance. Why he hadn’t asked for her forgiveness or even shown in his actions that he felt guilty.

Had he really been that desperate to get rid of her?

A tear slipped past her eyes and into her ear, and Y/n felt her face contort as she tried her hardest to not break down.

Wondering how long he had felt that way about her, Y/n tilted her face on either side to wipe away the tears on her face on the pillow. She sniffled, and slowly and slowly, she felt herself crumple under all of her grief and anger, causing her to begin trembling.

So she put Hope back into her crib, and curled up on her side, facing away from her daughter as she broke down into shambles, all over again.

She felt pathetic everytime she lost control like this, it was getting embarrassing and exhausting. She curled into a smaller ball as her throat began to burn due to the sobs she was fighting to hold back.

Not confident whether she’d fallen asleep for a couple of seconds or through the night, Y/n lent up on her elbows to see it was dark outside.

Turning to see the clock, Y/n instead saw Klaus, sitting up against the headboard, already looking at her.

“What time is it?” She asked him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes after noticing that the clock had stopped again.

“It’s midnight,” he smiled and Y/n panicked, instantly getting off the bed in order to reach Hope.

“I fed her!” Klaus whisper-yelled before she could’ve picked the little one up, repeating himself when she looked at him frozen on the spot.

“I’ve fed her before, you don’t need to be so shocked,” Klaus spoked defensively, turning on the lamp on his bedside table.

Y/n sighed then, sitting back on the bed and shifting until she was also perched up against the headboard. They hadn’t been on the same bed in more than a month. Y/n began playing with her fingers, eyes set on her palms.

“Were you crying?” Klaus mumbled, intertwining his hands.

Her breath hitched, she’d forgotten about that. “Doesn’t matter,” she answered curtly.

“It does,” Klaus said. “To me, it does.”

Y/n scoffed at that, taking a quick glance at him before she looked away again, suddenly conscious about her bed-head and probably red-rimmed eyes that even felt a bit puffy.

“Shut it, Klaus.” Y/n shook her head. “You don’t need to small-talk me.”

“I’m not –” he cut himself off, sitting back with a huff. “I need to tell you something,” he began, his teeth clenched due to unease.

“What?” Y/n’s body went rigid, preparing herself for whatever blow he was about to send her way.

“I didn’t,” Klaus took a deep breath. “I didn’t sleep with her,” he exhaled sharply before going as still as a statue.

Y/n turned to look at him incredulously at first, before she opened her mouth to speak.

“What?” She almost shrieked, it being the most unbelievable thing she could’ve ever heard in the moment. “Come again?” She pressed, leaning towards him and looking at him as if he had added insult to her injury.

“I did not cheat on you,” Klaus repeated, looking at the wall ahead instead of looking at her.

“We can’t do this here,” Y/n said and the both of them sped to the living room’s sofa. Well, Y/n, as well as she could.

“Are you hearing yourself, Klaus?”

He didn’t say anything, causing her to get up on her injured leg and start pacing around.

“You are saying you didn’t cheat on me?”

Klaus nodded softly.

“So, you didn’t sleep with Aurora?”

Klaus looked up at that, holding her gaze as he said – “I killed her, actually. Tonight, that is,” he told her and Y/n’s face went pale.

“Wha - you did what?”

“I killed her, Y/n. Hurting you was the farthest I could let her go,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “Should’ve done that the day she showed up the second time, now that I think about it.”

“So – so why didn’t you deny me then? When I asked you about it?” Y/n came to sit beside him, still on the farthest end of the sofa, due to pain shooting through her leg again.

“Why do you think, Y/n?” Now, he was losing patience. “I’m your husband and you chose to trust some clearly manipulative-vampire over me!” He shouted as lightly as he could, getting up.

But he stood still, unlike Y/n who’d been pacing around as if she’d been losing it.

“So… you said yes out of spite?”

“Of course, I did!” He insisted. “And I was thinking that someday you’ll come around and see for yourself but you never did!”

Y/n’s jaw clicked. “For so many days, you’ve put the both of us through misery because of this?” Y/n began, getting angrier despite seeing clearly what he was trying to show her.

“This is not about that! This is about the fact that you don’t have enough trust in me to know that not once in my immortal life would I ever deceive you!” Klaus felt like ranting, and he’d begun pulling on his hair.

“I was insecure!” Y/n shouted, tears brimming her eyes. “I had given birth days before and some chick comes and tells me ‘she’d have married you as well had she known previously how good you were in bed’!” Her breath caught in her throat. “You couldn’t have expected me to come home and coddle you then!”

Klaus’ eyes were wide, and he was wondering if there was a way someone could kill a person twice.

“You could’ve just told me that you did not and neither of us would’ve gone through this harrowing pain!”

Tears were falling down like raindrops of a downpour on her cheeks, so Klaus took the final steps to get close enough to her on order to cup her face.

He brushed away her tears with his calloused thumbs, hating the grief she held in her eyes still. Perhaps, he should’ve told her earlier.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered, pulling her into him as he held her to prevent her from breaking down into pieces. “We’ve got each other, haven’t we? We can come out of this together,” he said, holding her so still that he’d stopped breathing for a second.

Hiccups and sobs were flowing out of her endlessly, until only her sniffles were the sounds in the otherwise silent home.

“I can’t tell if I’m happy that you didn’t cheat on me, or - or,” she took a quick breath, hating how it was hardly reaching her lungs. “Or mad that you didn’t tell me sooner,” she spoke, finally wrapping her arms around him and clutching onto his shirt tightly.

“I just hope you’ll trust me a little more after this,” Klaus whispered and felt her nodding vigorously against his shoulder. His heart picked up upon the realisation that he had her enclosed in his arms again.

A chuckle rippled through his chest and he pulled her back, some of her hair strands still sticking onto him. He tucked them back, matting down her hair before he pressed a kiss on her forehead.

When he backed away, Y/n slipped her arms around his neck before reaching for his mouth that was spread in a wide grin.

“I hate you so much,” she laughed, pressing her forehead against his with her eyes closed, while Klaus gazed directly at her and pressed another quick kiss to her mouth.

“Like a barge at sea, in the storm I stay clear,” he sing-song’ed, attacking her face with multiple kisses when she cringed away.

“Did you see how much Hope’s hair has grown?” Y/n asked him excitedly, eyes wide as saucers as she went back to sit down on the sofa.

“I did! She’s going to have your brunette hair,” he pouted, putting one of his arms around her shoulder and pulling her into his side.

She snuggled against his chest instinctively, albeit curling up into him while he rubbed his hands up and down her shoulder.

“You were so vile the day my shout made her cry,” Y/n spoke quietly, her chest tightening and her eyes moistening again.

“I’m so sorry about that, love,” he sighed. “I hadn’t meant that. It’d just stung a bit that you’d think of me as a …bad father.”

“I hadn’t meant it in that way,” Y/n said, looking up at him. “You know I’d not want anyone else as a father for her,” she shrugged, a smile playing on her lips.

“Such a good one you are that I might be inclined to think you should have another one to look after, a couple years from now, that is” she laughed, winking at him before breaking into a bigger laugh.

“Shouldn’t have proposed the idea right now if you didn’t want one until another few years!” He whined jokingly, kissing her temple with some extra pressure.

The laughter died down then, and the both of them sat in complete silence.

“You really were like a barge at sea, though,” she mumbled. “Was I the storm?”

“Hm, I guess?” He said, and giggled when she hit him on the chest.

Y/n stared into the distance for a while, glad that the storm was over and that she had her life back. Even the thought of the utter misery she’d gone through, thinking she’d never have her family back again, made her shudder.

“I love you,” Klaus whispered and Y/n looked up at him with a smile, squeezing his hand. “And, I’m sorry.”

“Forever and always, Klaus” she said, lying back down on his chest. “And I’m sorry too,” she went to press a kiss to his neck, but he moved to get off the sofa.

“C’mon!” She protested, since she’d begun to think of catching up on some much needed sleep.

“Alright, you need to take a bath to clean up whatever wound you’ve got going on,” Klaus proposed seriously, picking her up bridal style.

Y/n gasped then. “Do I smell?” She questioned him, mouth still open ajar.

“No you don’t!” He reassured her before a coy smile stretched across his mouth. “But I do need you to smell a bit more like you have mate,” he said with a grin, before pointing at himself upon putting her back down, now in the bathroom.

“Oh, I really hate you,” Y/n mumbled bashfully, pretending to look away while Klaus began to get rid of his clothes.

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thecowinblack · 23 days ago

Text

A Long Lost Love pt.2

Pt.1

Warnings: Kissing, violence, Swearing mentions to sex, NOT PROOFREAD!

Summary: The morning after an eventful night the Salvatores come visiting your husband and with them is an item of yours..

A/N: Hi babes, sorry this took so fucking long , I've been having kind of a writer's block but I've got a couple ideas for the next part but if there's anything you'd like to see please send it in! Love you always and enjoy! 💕💕

________________________________________

You woke up by the sun shining in your face. Beside you Klaus law, his chest bare.

“Like what you see, my love?” He asked you. “It's nothing I haven't seen before.” you chuckled. As Klaus leaned in, his lips meeting yours, a sudden knock on the door interrupted the two of you. Klaus groaned and stood up pressing a light kiss to your lips, leaving your bed.

“Yes?” He asked the person outside.

“The Salvatores are here to see you guys, I think they want some answers on how Y/N/N can be a witch-vampire hybrid.” Rebekah told him. The vampire hearing was actually good for somethingings…

“The Salvatores, that's the brother's from yesterday, right?” you asked your husband as he climbed back into bed, kissing every pice of skin you had exposed.

“Yes love,they’ve been a real real pain in my arse. They're both in love with Elena, the doppelganger girl, and would do anything to protect her. I'm guessing they're here to strike some kind of deal.” He mumbled.

The two of you finally got up after, well an hour but you hadn't seen your darling husband in almost 300 years, what do they expect? Rebekah had anyways left a couple of clothing pieces outside Klaus's room and you'd quickly run away to the closest bathroom, knowing that if you'd stayed in those clothes wouldn't be getting on your body for a while…

Well anyways, you'd cozied up in a nearby bathroom, if you even could call it that. It's huge, filled with a huge bathtub.

The clothes Rebekah had left had none of the gracefulness the 17th century clothes had. She'd left you a short, like barely covering your ass, small skirt and a loose flowy purple blouse. You definitely needed to go shopping.

When you were done you walked downstairs to Klaus's offices that a pretty girl guided you to. You could hear through the door that a pretty loud… Discussion was being held inside. You knocked on the door, not waiting for anyone to open, and walked inside. The first thing you noticed was how gorgeous the room was. The entire west wall was covered in a window and all over the room stood s couple book shelves filled with books, old as new, and in the center of it all by a beautiful oak table your husband sat with the brother's from yesterday.

“Well don't let me interrupt, please continue!” You said when you felt their eyes on you. Walking towards Klaus they begin talking again:

“We brought back your wife, that has to count for something!” Damon said. Getting closer to Klaus you sat down at the armchairs elbow rest but a couple moments later Klaus pulled you into his lap, mumbling: “Hello my love, not very nice of you to sneak out on me this morning.” You just smirked at him as an answer and turned to the brothers before you.

“So, what do you want?” You asked them rather nicely.

“Well sweetheart we want your husband to get out of our town and stay out of our business.” Damon replied.

“And why would we do that?” You countered.

“Well we woke you up and by that we have something very important to you.” Stefan smirked, reaching into his pocket and showing an amulet, your amulet to the room. All the liking you had towards the two of them disappeared in an instant. That amulet had been made as a last resort by the original witch so that if you ever went crazy they could stop you because whoever wore that amulet could control you, change your thought, feelings. That was how Mikael trapped you, and he must have left the amulet for whoever woke you up.

“Where did you get that!?” Nik growled dangerously low.

“It was round her neck when we woke her, it seemed to burn her so we took it off and our dear witch friend could identify it, so now we've got your darling wife under our control.” Damon laughed.

With the speed of god knows what he pinned Stefan to the wall, the amulet still in his hand as you saw Damon grab it.

“Let him go or else I’ll make your lovely wife do something she'll probably regret very much later, maybe something with lots of vervain involved.” Damon said angrily.

Klaus reluctantly let Stefan go and eyed you softly, like if he was careful you'd get hurt.

“Very good, now Y/N and Stefan are coming with me and you are going to pack your bags.” Damon told Klaus, whose eyes were still on you.

“Never” he growled as an answer. Damon held up your amulet and swung it around and suddenly your body moved towards the Salvatores.

“Don't worry, we'll return her when you're gone, so hurry.” Stefan said. And walked out and as your body forced you to follow your eyes still lingered on an raging Niklaus.

#yn x tvd #klaus mikaelson x reader #reader x klaus mikaelson #tvd fic #tvd fanfiction #tvd fluff #the mikaelsons x reader #the mikaelsons #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus x oc #klaus x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus mikaleson imagine #klaus x y/n

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spicy30 · 8 days ago

Text

Vampirism

Pairing(s): Cregan Stark x Fem!OriginalHybrid Reader, Bennard Stark (Uncle of Cregan Stark) x x Fem!OriginalHybrid Reader

Crossover: TDV/TO→HOTD

cw: graphic scenes (violence) major age gap (Reader is 1000+) PTSD, Self-resentment, unnecessary cruelty, Stockholm syndrome???

Rating: 18+

Add-ons: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, reader is NOT sentimental, Slow-burn

(Not Proofread)

1/2

Tags: @lanalanaban, @esposadomd, @ltleeducky

WC: 19.9K

“What do you want for your birthday?” Cregan lifted a brow at your wording.

“Sorry, name-day. What do you want for your name day?” You buttoned his shift and once more your unnaturally warm hands brushed his skin but after a year of feeling your fingers on his skin, it no longer felt unnatural to him.

Cregan looked towards the window looking at the shining sun. Summer would soon come to an end. “To simply spend the day with you. That is all I desire.” He looked down towards you. Quite bold he had become. You never changed, you looked the same as you did when you entered his hall. Yet everything was different now, one year later and everything was so different because now he felt as if you filled a hole. A hole that was forcibly dug within him when the wolf plunged its snout into his father’s stomach.

“You have a banquet today. Perhaps on your next birthday.” You gave him a knowing smile. A smile that he watched reach your eyes. Eyes that he used to look away from yet now he drinks them in, for so delicious were your eyes, it seemed he had loved them a whole summer long.

Cregan wonders when the warm glow of those eyes becomes the spark of his delight.

“I will become Lord of Winterfell next year and Warden of the North as my father was. Next year will be an even larger banquet.” Cregan argued. You couldn’t have been much older than him so why did it always feel like he was a child to you?

“Then I suppose we’ll have to wait till the year after that.” You jested but Cregan did not find any humor in it. You always seemed to lack a concept at a time. It was a strange thing he had noticed in this year of knowing you. As if you had all the time in the world. It was…refreshing almost. You seemed to saunter through life as if you’d done it a million times and though you walked in front of him it never feels as if you will leave him behind. You were always within reach. Always at arm's length away and if he wanted to he could grab onto you.

However, there was another part of you that forced Cregan to feel as if he needed to run to keep up with you. For if Cregan were to slow down or stop to catch his breath you would not stop. You would not stop for him, not truly. You seemed to slow down even when you knew he was fishing for it. It gave just enough time to catch his breath before getting up once more to try and walk alongside you. To get a glimpse of those eyes that used to terrify him.

Once more the question that always sat on the tip of his tongue he asked again. “How old are you?”

And once more to his dismay you answered the same you did the year before. “Old enough to know that you’ll be late if you don’t get going.” This time however Cregan stood still watching you expecting a more defining answer. He was to be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. He was not a boy, he would stand his ground to get what he wanted.

Unfortunately for him, it seems the ground moves as you command it and now he was heading to his banquet whilst you stayed in his chambers to clean them. Cregan was sure that it would be like all other banquets he’d ever attended. This would most likely be the first banquet that would bring some sense of normalcy since the passing of his father last year.

And so it was. A banquet that was of the norm. Cregan and his uncle greeted their bannermen, with feastings, loud conversations, men manhandling the women who came to serve, and laughter. Cregan simply looked on.

“Cregan, there is someone I’d like for you to meet.” His uncle Bennard spoke. Cregan had been avoiding looking at him ever since his strange dream about him and you. He’d rather not remember such a sight. A girl whom he hadn’t seen since his childhood days came up to him.

“You remember the little Lady Arra Norrey Cregan?” Asked his uncle. Cregan nodded his head as he looked towards her. She had grown quite a bit since the last time he saw her. She had been taller than him the last time he saw her. Now he was taller than her. Her dark features had grown sharper since he last saw them. She had a small blush on her face under the light of the candles. She looked just the same when she was younger. It was nice to see her again. It reminded him of simpler times with his mother, father and little brother.

Later that night Uncle Bennard had told him that Arra was promised to him. Cregan made no real expression before heading off to his room.

He stepped into his room and not a moment later you were behind him helping him undress. Marriage had always seemed such a ways away, but now he was promised to Arra Norey. What was marriage like? Uncle Bennard did not seem particularly loyal to his wife and his father had his younger sister Sara with another woman who was not his mother.

(He remembers how his mother used to scowl and Sara would go off running away from his mother.)

“Have you ever been married?” Cregan murmured and he felt your hands stop. Were you married?

Cregan watched you step in front of him before giving a small smile. “No, but I can tell you about my little sister's escapades.”

…

“Can you be killed?” Bennard had asked, groaning as his fractured bones began to knit themselves back together. You had been rough with him—too rough, as always. It was your nature, after all, to lose yourself in both carnal indulgences and the sins of your existence.

You only nodded, offering that cruel smile of yours, the kind that made him question what lay beneath. What could kill a creature like you? How does one kill the undead—in undead who claims to have lived for a millennium? He wasn’t sure why he asked, but the question lingered in the candlelight.

“Do you want to kill me?” you asked, your voice soft, teasing.

“No,” Bennard said quickly, shaking his head. But even as he spoke, the thought clung to him, unwanted.

“I die as any other,” you said simply, your tone almost bored. “A stake through the heart. Decapitation. And without this—” your fingers brushed the ring hanging from your neck—“the sun would burn me to ash.”

Bennard’s gaze lingered on the ring.

He lay beside you, silent now, as his thoughts wandered. His nephew was unwell—an illness of the mind, surely. A second son turned reluctant regent. Bennard had always been better than his brother Rickon: no bastards, a stronger sword arm, a steadier hand as a father. His children had done what Rickon’s could not—they had slain the wolf that hunted them in the woods.

And yet, despite it all, the undead lay beside him. You, Cregan’s caretaker, now here in his bed.

The heat of your body was oppressive. It wasn’t the warmth of a fire on a cold northern night or the heat of passion—it was something deeper, something alive in a way that no mortal warmth could be. Bennard lay still beside you, feeling it seep into him, overwhelming his senses. It was unnatural, this feverish aura of yours, like the heat of a forge that could bend steel and shatter resolve.

And yet, he didn’t move away.

He thought of the stories—the legends passed down through Stark blood like a sacred inheritance. The Long Night. The last hero. A man who had ventured into the frozen wastes, seeking the aid of the children of the forest to end a darkness that swallowed the world. He was a boy when he first heard the tale, sitting at his father’s knee, the flames of the heart casting shadows that seemed to dance like the Others themselves.

The last hero, they said, lost everything—his companions, his hope, almost his life. Only he survived, carrying with him the weight of a thousand dead souls and the scars of a world turned to ice. Bennard had always admired that kind of resilience, that selfless courage. But now, lying beside you, he felt only resentment. What had the last hero gained for all his sacrifice? The Night’s Watch? A momentary victory in an endless cycle of darkness and despair?

You stirred beside him, and his gaze flicked to the ring around your neck, its silver band catching the firelight like a shard of ice. It should have been cold. Everything about you should have been cold, like the myths of the Others—deathless beings made of frost and shadow. But you weren’t cold. You were warmth and life and fire, all wrapped in a body that had defied death for a millennium.

Bennard’s fingers itched to touch that ring. Would it burn him? Would it sear his flesh the way your heat seared his thoughts?

The last hero sought salvation in the children of the forest. He begged for their aid, and they gave it—at a cost.

He wondered if you were his salvation. Or his cost.

What would it mean to become like you?

The thought had crept into his mind before, unbidden but relentless. A second son, a regent for a broken nephew—what legacy was that? Rickon had his flaws, yes, but at least his name would endure through his children. Bennard had nothing but borrowed power and the whispers of a bloodline fading into winter. But you...

You were eternal.

“Do you think it could happen again?” he’d asked you earlier, the words heavy with meaning. The Long Night. The endless darkness. The heroes who sacrificed themselves to push it back. He wasn’t sure what answer he had expected, but your response haunted him.

Anything is possible, you had said, your voice dripping with something between apathy and amusement. The real question is: when it comes, will you fight it?

Fight it. The words rang hollow in his mind. What was there to fight for? A Stark name he barely believed in anymore? A broken family? A nephew who could barely hold their ancestral sword, let alone the Wild North?

No, Bennard thought. He wouldn’t fight it. He would embrace it.

His gaze flicked to you, tracing the curve of your jaw, the way the firelight danced on your skin. You were so much more than the myths of ice and death that haunted his childhood. You were fire incarnate, a creature of both destruction and life. What would it feel like to burn with that same heat? To cast aside the chains of mortality and take what was yours?

The last hero had sought salvation, but Bennard? He wanted power. He wanted the kind of immortality that came with your touch, the kind of freedom that let you laugh at myths and turn them into stories for children.

He wanted you.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d give him what he desired. If only he could prove himself worthy.

The ring gleamed once more, and Bennard’s breath hitched. One day, he thought, he’d touch it. One day, he’d feel its heat. And maybe—just maybe—it would welcome him into the fire.

The silence between you stretched, broken only by the crackle of the fire. Bennard’s gaze lingered on the ring around your neck, his thoughts spiraling deeper into dangerous places. The warmth radiating from your body was suffocating, intoxicating, pulling him into a fever dream he couldn’t escape.

"You’ve lived for a millennium," he said finally, his voice barely more than a murmur.

You turned your head toward him, your expression unreadable. "So I’ve said."

"Then you’ve seen everything. Done everything. You’ve endured what no mortal could. And you’re still here."

A faint smile tugged at your lips. "Not by choice, Bennard. I endure because I must."

He swallowed hard, the words catching in his throat. "But you could choose. You could… make someone else like you."

The room seemed to still, the air heavy with unsaid things. Your smile faded, and the firelight reflected something sharp in your eyes—something dangerous.

"Bennard," you said softly, but there was no warmth in your tone now, only steel.

"I’m serious," he pressed, his voice growing firmer. "I’ve thought about it. What good is this life? What good am I to my house, to my family? I’m the second son. A regent for a boy who may never be fit to rule. I am a name that will fade into nothing the moment I am gone. But if I were like you..." He trailed off, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"Stop."

The word cut through the air like a blade.

He blinked, startled by the sudden force in your voice.

“This gift that only I can bestow would strip you of your humanity. You’d be less than what you are now,” you spoke, your tone low and dangerous. “My gift would leave you empty and for dead.”

"You don’t seem empty and you are not dead," he said, his voice slightly trembling.

You laughed, the sound bitter and cold despite the heat that radiated from you. “I spent a near century to rebuild myself. The hunger my gift would infect you with-”

"But you’ve endured," he said, desperation creeping into his voice. "And I could endure too. I could help you, stand beside you. Forever."

Your expression hardened, and the heat in the room seemed to spike. Oppressive and smothering. "No," you said firmly.

He stared at you, confusion and frustration warring in his eyes. "Why not?"

“Because I don’t want to. I will never sire a line and you do not want this gift, but even if you did…it’s not your choice to make," you said, your voice sharp and final.

The words hit him like a blow, and he felt the weight of them settle in his chest.

"Don’t ask me again," you said, leaning closer, your gaze locking with his. "Do you understand?"

Bennard nodded slowly, his throat tight.

"Say it," you demanded as he watched the whites of your eyes darken and amber begin to glow.

"I understand," he whispered.

You leaned back, the tension in the room lingering like the heat of the forge. Bennard turned his gaze back to the fire, his thoughts swirling with everything unsaid.

But even as he nodded, even as he said the words, a quiet resolve formed in the deepest corners of his mind.

One way or another, he thought, he would find a way to endure.

(And endure he did. The day his endurance would be tested would be in the next year on a fateful hunting trip)

…

Cregan sighed, staring at the frost creeping along the edges of the window. The snow outside had begun to thicken, the sunlight dimming earlier each day as the long winter loomed closer. A year. It had only been a year since his fourteenth name day, yet it felt as though a lifetime had passed between then and now.

He could scarcely remember what life had been like before everything changed. Before his father had been ripped from him, before the weight of Winterfell’s future had settled onto his shoulders. Back then, he had been a boy dreaming of his first sword, the freedom of the forest, and long days spent chasing his brother through the courtyard.

Now, that boy felt as distant as the summer sun. The months now turned years since his father’s death had been a blur of grief, training, and endless scrutiny. Bannermen questioned his readiness, his uncle whispering doubts into every ear that would listen, and the shadow of the wolf that had stolen his father haunting his dreams.

And then there was you.

You had entered his life not long after his thirteenth name day, stepping into his hall like you had always belonged there. At first, he hated you. Not because of anything you had done, but because of what you represented—change, mystery, and something he couldn’t control. You moved through Winterfell like smoke, slipping through doors and disappearing before anyone could truly pin you down.

He had tried to avoid you at first, your unnaturally warm touch unsettling him, your eyes too knowing, too sharp. But you were always there. Always close enough to feel like a shadow. A year later, he wasn’t sure what unsettled him more—your elusiveness or the way he had grown accustomed to it.

He had learned to watch you, to catch the fleeting moments when you seemed more present, less detached. But just when he thought he had a grasp on you, you would slip away again, a phantom in the halls of Winterfell. You answered his questions with riddles, smiled at him with an air of amusement that made him feel like a boy, and disappeared whenever he thought he might press you for more.

Yet, for all your mysteries, you have become a constant. Where others doubted him, you offered no pity, no false assurances. You didn’t coddle him or try to shoulder his burdens. You simply… existed beside him, an anchor when he felt adrift.

Fourteen had been a year of upheaval, of loss, and of harsh lessons. Fifteen loomed now, and with it, the responsibility he had been preparing for all year. Winterfell was meant to be his, a birthright as sure as the Stark blood in his veins. And yet, doubts lingered. Not just from others, but within himself.

Did you see those doubts? He was sure you did. You saw everything. But if you judged him, you never said. And for that, Cregan found himself both grateful and frustrated. You were an enigma, and he wasn’t sure if he trusted you—or if he simply wanted to trust you.

Cregan sighed again, leaning back against the chair by the fire. A year had changed him in ways he was only beginning to understand. And you, elusive as ever, had somehow become part of that change. Whether for better or worse, he couldn’t yet decide.

The door to his chamber opened and there you were. The same you had always been. Cregan looked away from you before he sank onto the edge of his bed, his jaw tight and his hands curling into fists over his thighs. The warm glow of the room’s hearth felt oppressive, like a weight pressing down on him. You stood across from him, silent as ever, watching with that inscrutable expression that both comforted and infuriated him.

“He’s questioning me,” Cregan muttered, his voice low but sharp with bitterness. “My uncle thinks I’m too young, that I am fragile.” He looked up at you, his gray eyes burning with frustration. “He’s already speaking to the bannermen about delaying my ascension. He says it’s for my benefit, but we both know it’s for him. Bennard wants to hold onto what’s not his to keep.”

You said nothing, your gaze steady as you walked further into the room closing the door. He could feel the weight of it, as though you were dissecting every word, every crack in his armor. It made him want to turn away and stand taller all at once.

“He says I’m unfit because I’m… unwell,” Cregan continued, his voice thick with anger. “As if grief isn’t natural. As if any man wouldn’t falter after watching his father die—after seeing what I saw.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with the memory of that day. The wolf’s maw slick with blood, the snow stained red, and his father’s gasping breaths, each one quieter than the last.

“I’m not fragile,” he said, his voice firm but trembling slightly. “I’m stronger than he thinks. Stronger than I even believed I could be. But none of that matters to Bennard. He only sees a boy.”

He stood abruptly, pacing the room. His movements were restless, his fingers raking through his dark hair. “He calls me impulsive, says I’m prone to outbursts. He’s made me doubt myself and made others doubt me. But I am not my uncle’s to shape or diminish. Winterfell is my birthright.”

Cregan turned to face you again, his chest rising and falling with the effort to control his emotions. “I can’t wait. If I wait, he’ll make me smaller, piece by piece. I’ll lose the respect of my bannermen before I ever have the chance to command it.”

Your silence stretched, unyielding.

“Say something,” he urged, his voice breaking. “You always have something to say.”

You stepped closer, the firelight casting long shadows across your face. For a moment, Cregan thought you might say something reassuring, something to ease the knot of frustration and fear coiled in his chest. Instead, you spoke in your usual measured tone, one that betrayed neither sympathy nor disdain.

“You want to be Lord of Winterfell, but being a lord is more than bearing the title. It’s patience, strategy, and control. Your uncle underestimates you because he thinks you’re ruled by your anger and your grief. Prove him wrong.”

Cregan stared at you, your words cutting deeper than he expected. “And how do I do that?”

“By showing him that Winterfell belongs to you, not because of your name, but because no one else can hold it as you would. That means enduring him, outsmarting him, and waiting for the right moment. You are young, yes, but that doesn’t make you weak. Youth can be a weapon if wielded properly.”

The fire in Cregan’s chest seemed to cool, tempered by the sharp edge of your logic. Yet there was something else in your tone, a shadow of knowledge that made him wonder just how much of yourself you were revealing.

“And what would you know of ruling?” he asked, his voice softer now, tinged with curiosity.

You smiled faintly, your eyes distant. “More than you’d think.”

Before he could ask more, you moved away, your steps deliberate as always. “Get some rest,” you said, your voice light again, as though the weight of the conversation had already been forgotten. “You’ll need your strength for whatever comes next.”

Cregan watched you leave, the faint scent of you lingering in the room, warm and familiar yet distant all the same. He sat back on the bed, your words swirling in his mind like snow in a storm. For all his frustrations with you, for all the mysteries you kept locked away, you had given him something tonight—a seed of resolve.

And he would let it grow.

…

Only a couple of months remained till Cregan would be deemed a man. It brought unease to Bennard, in ways that a mere boy should not. Bennard has watched the boy grow from the meek and shell-shocked thirteen-year-old boy into a sharp-eyed man. It was evident in all the ways he did not want it to be. He did not want the bannermen to see their future Lord with purposeful steps and grey eyes sharp enough to see what Bennard’s end goal was. Sharp enough to see through the world Bennard had spent the last two years making for him.

Though Bennard should not be worried, he planned for this after all. He should not be worried, he wasn’t worried. Not yet, anyway. His preparations were thorough. The bannermen would support Bennard, if only because they didn’t have a choice. Cregan was too young, too raw, too unpolished. The boy needed time, and Bennard was more than happy to give it to him—at least, for now.

Still, there was something gnawing at the back of his mind. He knew Cregan was beginning to question him. The signs were subtle, at first—small shifts in the boy’s demeanor, the way he now looked at his uncle with a wariness Bennard hadn’t seen before. It was a far cry from the adoring child who had looked up to him only a year ago.

But what truly unsettled him was you.

You were always there, behind Cregan, a shadow just out of reach. The two of you had become an inseparable fixture in Winterfell, and Bennard couldn’t quite figure out what to make of it. You were loyal to Cregan, that much was obvious. He could see the way you moved around him—unwavering, protective, your presence a constant. It was an admirable loyalty, even if Bennard was unsure of your motives.

But it was more than that. You weren’t just loyal to Cregan. You belonged to Bennard. You laid beside him at night, your warmth a stark contrast to his calculating coldness. You whispered things in the dark, things that made Bennard feel as if the world were his to control, yet at times, you made him feel more like a puppet on strings.

He hadn’t quite decided if you were a good thing or not.

Bennard had always been careful about his relationships, even with you. He had brought you into his life for reasons that made sense at the time—power, companionship, a connection that could further cement his control over Winterfell. But the more time passed, the more the lines blurred. He wasn’t sure if he had you because he wanted you, or if it was simply a matter of his need to possess everything, including you.

And yet, it wasn’t Cregan who had his bed warm at night. It was Bennard. He hadn’t let himself acknowledge it fully until now, but the distance between you and him was thinning. He didn’t know if he should be proud of that, or afraid.

You were an enigma—elusive, untouchable, always there beside him, yet never truly his. There were times when Bennard wondered if you’d leave him for someone else, perhaps even for Cregan, though he’d never admit it out loud. After all, Cregan was growing into someone with far more ambition than Bennard had anticipated.

Cregan had become a man in his own right, and the thought of his nephew eventually taking Winterfell made Bennard uneasy. The boy was getting closer to understanding the web Bennard had woven around him, and the way he looked at Bennard now—more suspicious, more wary—confirmed that.

It was only a matter of time before Cregan would question whether Bennard’s control over him was out of love or necessity.

But Bennard wasn’t going to let Cregan slip away. Not yet. He had too much at stake. He had worked too hard to claim his nephew as his own, and he would do whatever it took to secure his position.

And you?

You were a part of that. A dangerous part, perhaps, but a part nonetheless. You lay beside him at night, keeping him warm, offering your body and your presence, but your heart was always a little farther away. Always just out of reach, like the power Bennard had been striving for.

He knew you better than anyone else, and yet there were still pieces of you he couldn’t understand.

He’d have to hold onto you, just as he would hold onto Cregan, just as he would hold onto Winterfell—by any means necessary.

“You’ve never said how it is you’ve been made into—” Bennard gestured vaguely, his voice low as he cleaned the blood from his neck and hands. “This.”

Your lips curled into a faint smile, the amusement unmistakable. “What makes you think I was ever anything but this?”

Everything starts as something else. The thought gnawed at Bennard as he studied you, your stillness unnerving. Were you an extension of The Others, the undead who moved among the living? Have you created them? No. Cregan had mentioned you had left to see your brothers—creatures who might be like you.

You laughed suddenly, breaking his train of thought. “The headless woman in the forest.”

It was all you said, your tone light, almost dismissive, but Bennard felt his breath catch. Fear settled in his throat like ash. “You have no family?” he asked carefully.

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you tilted your head, watching him with those eyes that revealed nothing. Could you hear his heartbeat? His pulse thundered in his ears as he searched your face, looking for anything human, anything recognizable.

Finally, you laughed again, the sound sharp and cold, though not unkind. “Yes, I was human once.” Your voice softened, your gaze distant for the briefest of moments. “There was even a time when I wanted to be human again.”

The confession hung between you, like the lingering scent of blood in the air. It wasn’t remorse that Bennard saw in your eyes now, but something far older.

“I'm curious, where do these…creatures come from?” You smiled and looked at the man across the table.

“Something far older than you and I. These demons are made from one another and they all originate from one. Sire lines.” The man spoke—Alexander—you did your best to keep your smile hidden while your brothers simply gave each other knowing looks.

“Sire lines?” You asked innocently. Between Kol’s escapades in the East and your recent sire line gave rise to these men. The Brotherhood of the Five.

You sat there listening to just how much information these mortals attained. In their arrogance, they had counted six sire lines. But one took precedence above all others.

Your sire line.

The disgust was palpable in Alexander’s face. Every single word was spat out with contentment about the dear vampires you had turned. Your sire line was a blight so vile it darkens anything and anyone who had seen it. It was clear to see he despised it with every fiber of his being. Your blood was a stain on the world, a wound that has festered and now infects the world.

“Were I to find this blasphemous creature that has spread it’s odious, I'd banish its name, burn its shadow, extinguish its flame. Erase each trace, each whisper, each mark. Cast it to the abyss, where nothing sparks. Let it sink to a depth where no light can dwell. Condemned for eternity to the heart of hell. Never again to mar time's unspoiled shore. Gone forever—forgotten, and no more.” Alexander’s face was contorted in rage and you could hear his blood pumping faster and veins bulging out slightly from his neck.

And though you smiled, something inside you shrank. The echoes of your father’s words rang in your mind, a reminder of failure, of shame. This was your second attempt to sire a line. You had chosen carefully this time, convinced that someone of strong will and noble heart could endure the plague within your blood.

But you were wrong. Again.

It was unfortunate news that your champion had failed and had created your lineage.

That night, you sat alone, staring into the fire as it consumed the logs with unrelenting hunger. The warmth did nothing to ease the chill of Alexander’s words or the weight of your father’s disapproval.

Then you felt arms encircle you, Elijah’s quiet strength enveloping you in an unspoken solace.

“Is my blood truly a plague?” you whispered, your voice fragile, trembling like a leaf in a storm.

Elijah was silent. The sting of tears burned your eyes, tracing the sharp lines of your cheeks as they fell.

“I cannot sire a line,” you continued, your voice cracking. “Anyone infected becomes like me. A curse—”

Elijah began to speak, his tone gentle, but the door swung open, and Klaus strode in with his usual flair, a predator at ease.

“The man’s words are idiotic,” Klaus growled, his eyes flashing as he approached. “Once we have what we need from him, dear sister, I promise you—he will rue the day he dared to speak to you.”

His smile was sharp, wicked, as he took your hand and pulled you to your feet. “You are not a plague and I will see that he learns it.”

Klaus’s touch was both grounding and electric, his resolve unwavering as he met your tearful gaze.

For a moment, you almost believed him.

You held Klaus’s gaze, his fierce determination like a shield against the lingering sting of Alexander’s words. Elijah placed a hand on your shoulder, grounding you further. Between the two of them, you felt the faintest flicker of hope, though it was a fragile thing.

“I don’t want him dead,” you murmured, surprising even yourself.

Klaus’s expression shifted, confusion flashing in his eyes before settling into a calculating gaze. “And why not? The man speaks of erasing you from existence as though he were a god.”

“Because he’s afraid,” you said simply. “Men like him cling to fear, use it as a weapon. If we kill him, we make him a martyr. But if we let him live…” You trailed off, a small, knowing smile tugging at your lips.

Klaus tilted his head, his smile mirroring yours now, sharper and more dangerous. “You want him to suffer.”

“I want him to see that no matter what he does, we are inevitable.”

Elijah sighed, ever the voice of reason. “If we allow him to live, he’ll continue to rally others to his cause. Fear may be his weapon, but it also inspires action. The Brotherhood will grow.”

“And we’ll deal with them,” Klaus interrupted, his tone dismissive. “One by one, if need be. Let them grow. Let them think they can rise against us. It will make their fall all the sweeter.”

You turned back to the fire, its flickering light casting shadows across the room. “Their hatred is my burden,” you said quietly. “But I will not let it be my downfall.”

Elijah stepped closer, his voice low but firm. “Your burden is not yours alone. It never has been.”

You smiled faintly, grateful for his unwavering loyalty. But even as you stood surrounded by your brothers, you couldn’t shake the weight of Alexander’s words. They had pierced deeper than you cared to admit.

Klaus, ever perceptive, seemed to notice. “Enough of this,” he declared, his tone lightening, though his eyes still burned with fury. “Come, sister. You’ve brooded long enough. There’s a world out there that fears and reveres you in equal measure. Let us remind them why.”

You allowed Klaus to lead you out of the room, Elijah following close behind. The fire crackled behind you, a reminder of the inferno that smoldered within you.

The Brotherhood of the Five thought they could extinguish it, but they were wrong. You would not burn out. You would only burn brighter.

“The Brotherhood of the Five? I’ve never heard of such—” Bennard began, but you silenced him with a wave of your hand, your tone sharp as you corrected him.

“It was about eight or nine centuries ago,” you said, your voice carrying the weight of ages past. “To my knowledge, my brother and I slaughtered all of them. They’ve been extinct ever since.” You paused, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “Though I must admit, they were more trouble than they were worth. Ugly consequences followed, but my brother Niklaus suffered the worst of it.”

Bennard blinked, caught off guard by the casual mention of a brother. It was the first time he’d heard you name any of your family.

Niklaus.

The name felt foreign on his tongue, strange and unfamiliar, as though it belonged to a world far removed from his own. He couldn’t recall hearing a name like it before, in the North or anywhere else.

“And what of these consequences?” he ventured cautiously, his curiosity overriding his better judgment.

You tilted your head, regarding him with a look that was both amused and inscrutable. “Consequences that drive you to madness.”

Bennard hesitated, sensing the weight behind your words but knowing better than to press further. He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, which seemed to pierce through him, as though you were weighing his worth in some unspoken calculation.

“It’s strange,” he said, attempting to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “That a group with such a legacy would leave so little trace behind.”

You laughed softly, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine. “They disrespected me and my family, put us down in our sleep. There is not a single person alive today who has ever gotten away with that, Bennard.”

The way you said his name, with a subtle edge that hinted at both warning and amusement, left him feeling both drawn to and wary of you.

“So you can sire lines?” Bennard sat on the bed. You seemed to be in a well enough mood.

“I can and I did. Twice. Both were hunted down and put to death within a century by my family.” Bennard watched as you reached over, your fingers brushing against the side of his neck—the spot you always seemed so fond of.

“Why?” he whispered, instantly regretting it.

Your eyes flashed, the playfulness in them vanishing as if his question had struck a nerve. The air around you grew tense, heavy with an unspoken threat.

Your hand froze mid-caress, your grip tightening ever so slightly. The warmth that lingered in your gaze was gone, replaced by something wild and unrestrained.

In an instant, you were on him, your strength forcing him flat against the bed. Bennard’s breath hitched, panic clawing at his chest as he realized how utterly powerless he was. Try as he might, he couldn’t move. Your weight was light, but your grip on his wrists felt unyielding as if iron shackles bound him.

“My gift,” you hissed, your voice low and venomous, “is not meant to be shared.”

Bennard’s heart raced, each thud a deafening drumbeat in his ears as your face hovered inches from his. The crazed gleam in your eyes made him feel as though he were staring into the abyss itself.

“You will never possess it, Bennard.” Your lips curled into a cold smile, one devoid of any warmth. “And even if you somehow did, it would destroy you before you ever understood its cost.”

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sand, but you weren’t finished. Leaning closer, your breath ghosted against his ear, each word slicing through the silence like a blade.

“I will be long gone before you ever discover how to attain it. And some knowledge…” You paused, your voice dropping to a whisper that chilled him to the core. “…is better left unattained.”

Then, as quickly as you’d pinned him, you were gone. Rising gracefully, you left him lying there, breathless and shaken, your laughter echoing softly as you disappeared into the shadows of the room.

Bennard remained motionless, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your warning pressing down on him like a specter. He didn’t dare call after you, too afraid of the answers he might receive if you returned.

…

You clung tightly to Finn, your fingers digging into his arms as you watched your second attempt at a sire line being destroyed before your eyes. Klaus moved with ruthless efficiency, ripping off heads as though they were nothing more than weeds to be plucked. Kol, ever the sadist, took his time, delighting in tearing limbs from bodies as though it were a game.

Elijah was swift and clinical, his kills precise—heart after heart ripped from chests with cold detachment. And then there was Rebekah, her strikes brutal yet final, a stake plunged through the heart of each victim as she moved through them like a storm.

It was horrible to witness. Each death felt like a piece of yourself being torn away, as if every severed head, every shattered heart, took a sliver of your own with it.

You couldn’t help it—you felt as if you’d known them all, every single one of them. The bond may have been faint, diluted across generations, but it lingered nonetheless, a thread connecting you to each face now twisted in terror. They were yours, after all, however small the pool. Each death was a reminder of your failure, a weight that pressed heavily against your chest.

“Look away,” Finn whispered, his voice soft but firm as he pulled you closer. “You shouldn’t have to see this.”

But you didn’t look away. You couldn’t.

Because this wasn’t just a massacre. It was a message.

A message for you.

“You’ve made a mistake, Niklaus!” you shouted, your voice sharp as steel, though your hands trembled against Finn’s steadying grip. The carnage unfolding before you stoked something primal—a fury that burned through your veins, eclipsing the dread that had paralyzed you moments before.

Klaus paused mid-strike, a severed head dangling from his grip, blood dripping onto the soil like rain. He turned to face you, his expression cold and unrelenting. “A mistake?” he echoed, his voice as sharp as the blade he wielded. “No, sister. A correction.”

“They were loyal,” you bit out, your voice rising. “More loyal than the armies you’ve broken and the allies you’ve betrayed!” You took a step forward, defiance flaring in your chest despite the carnage around you. “Do you think this will make me stronger? That you’ll teach me a lesson with this… this butchery?”

Klaus’s lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. “Stronger?” he repeated mockingly. “You let them roam unchecked, dragging your name through the mud, tarnishing the legacy of our family with their weakness. Their failures are yours, sister.” He gestured broadly to the chaos, the blood-soaked ground littered with bodies. “This is not punishment. It is mercy.”

Finn’s grip tightened on your arm, a silent warning, but you wrenched free, your anger too consuming to be tempered. “And who decides what mercy is? You? The man who’s left ruin in his wake since the moment he was born?”

Kol chuckled darkly from where he stood over a twitching body, his hands slick with blood. “I have to say, she’s got a point, Nik.”

“Stay out of this, Kol,” Klaus snapped, his temper flaring.

“I’ll stay out when it stops being entertaining,” Kol quipped, kicking the body aside and strolling lazily toward the center of the fray.

Rebekah, wiping her bloodied hands on a scrap of cloth, threw you a look of exasperation. “They’re just vampires,” she said, her tone dismissive. “Replaceable. Forgettable.”

You turned on her, the fury in your gaze enough to make her falter. “Not to me,” you hissed.

Elijah’s voice cut through the tension, measured and unyielding. “Enough.” He stepped between you and Klaus, his presence commanding. “This infighting is beneath us.”

“She’s defending them,” Klaus growled, pointing toward the lifeless bodies scattered like discarded dolls. “The very sire line that brought about the Brotherhood of the Five.”

The words cut through the air like a blade, and the weight of the accusation hit you squarely in the chest.

“You think I wanted that?” you shot back, your voice trembling with anger and grief. “Kol’s antics in the East had as much to do with the Brotherhood as my sire line did. They hunted us both!”

Klaus’s laughter was cold and humorless. “And yet Kol’s indiscretions do not threaten our family in the same way. He can control himself when he wishes. Your sire line, on the other hand, is a plague—a disease that spreads chaos and brings danger to our doorstep.”

You feel small as the words Alexander spoke are now being thrown at you by your brother.

“That’s unfair, Niklaus,” Kol interjected with a lazy grin, though his tone held an edge of mockery. “I’ve been far worse.”

“But not uncontrollable,” Elijah countered firmly. His gaze locked with yours, steady but unyielding. “Your line has proven reckless, destructive. You may have chosen them, but they have shown they cannot rise above their baser instincts and we are the ones who pay the price.”

The words struck like a blow.

You looked to Finn, hoping for support, but even he remained silent, his eyes heavy with conflicted sympathy.

“They were mine,” you said quietly, the words a whisper but weighted with grief. “You had no right.”

“And you had no right to endanger us,” Klaus retorted. “We all bear the burden of being what we are, but we do not let it define us. You’ve allowed your blood to poison the world.”

Tears burned at the edges of your vision, but you refused to let them fall. “I thought they could handle it. I thought they could—”

“You thought wrong,” Klaus snapped, his voice cutting through your protest. “And we’re done paying for your mistakes.”

He turned on his heel, the conversation dismissed in his mind as he walked away. Kol followed with a shrug, and Rebekah rolled her eyes, tossing the cloth aside as she followed suit.

Elijah lingered, his gaze softening as it settled on you. “You cannot protect them from us,” he said gently. “Not if they are unworthy.”

“And who decides their worth?” you asked bitterly.

Elijah’s silence was his answer.

As the others left, Finn pulled you closer, his hands warm against your icy skin. “You know what they are,” he said softly. “And you know what we are. Perhaps Niklaus wasn’t wrong, as much as it pains me to say it.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The fire within you burned too brightly, consuming every coherent thought.

When the clearing was empty, save for the dead, you pulled away from Finn and knelt among the bodies, running your fingers over the cold, lifeless faces of those you had once called your own.

“They were mine,” you whispered again, tears slipping unbidden down your cheeks.

And once more you were reduced to a stain on the family.

…

“Your bannermen will be watching today.” You spoke offhandedly as you tied Cregan’s hair back. You shrugged, your movements fluid, almost serpentine, as you let the silence settle between you. When you finally spoke, your voice was soft, almost lilting, as if you were reciting a secret you had no intention of sharing fully. “I’m simply reminding you, my lord, that the wolves of the North don’t only bare their teeth. They circle. They wait. And when they strike, it is always the throat.”

Cregan studied you, unsure whether your words were meant as a warning or something else entirely. There was something in your gaze—a flicker of amusement, perhaps, or a deeper knowledge that seemed just out of his reach. You moved closer, the faint heat of your presence seeping into his armor as if you carried a fire inside you.

“You speak as if you know what they’ll do,” he said cautiously.

Your laugh was soft, a sound like wind brushing through winter leaves. “I know wolves well enough,” you replied, your hand brushing over the fur trim of his cloak. “Their nature is simple once you understand it. But you, Cregan Stark…” You paused, your eyes catching him, holding him still in their intensity. “You are not so simple.”

The compliment—or was it a challenge?—left him unsettled. He shifted under your gaze, but you didn’t let him look away. “And what of me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper. “What do you understand?”

Your smile widened, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Enough to know that they’ll test you today. And enough to know you’ll endure.” You reached up, adjusting the clasp of his cloak, your fingers lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. “But endurance isn’t the same as triumph. The North expects more than survival from its lord.”

“And what would you expect?” he asked before he could stop himself.

You tilted your head, a faint gleam in your eye as if you were savoring a private joke. “From you, my lord? I expect greatness. The question is whether you’ll deliver it.”

Before he could respond, you stepped back, the warmth of your presence fading as quickly as it had come. “They’re waiting,” you said, gesturing toward the door. Your voice carried a tone of finality, as though the conversation had already ended in your mind. “Make them see the man you wish to be.”

Cregan hesitated for only a moment before nodding. But as he turned to leave, he glanced back, only to find you already moving to the window, your gaze distant, as if the world outside held secrets only you could understand.

The hunting party moved quietly through the dense northern woods, the soft crunch of hooves on frost-covered ground blending with the faint whispers of the wind. The tension among the riders was palpable. Lords from across the North had joined the hunt, their sharp eyes not just on the forest but on the two men leading the pursuit: Bennard Stark and his young nephew, Cregan.

Though the seat of Winterfell was not openly spoken of, it loomed over every glance exchanged between the men. Most of the lords leaned subtly toward Bennard, an experienced hand with decades of leadership. Cregan, though proud and capable, was still a boy in their eyes—a boy untested in the ways that mattered most.

The hounds suddenly froze, noses to the ground, tails stiff. The men tensed, gripping their spears and bows as the lead hound barked sharply and surged forward.

Cregan and Bennard exchanged a glance. Bennard smirked faintly, the older Stark’s confidence evident. “Stay close, boy,” he said, his voice just loud enough for the others to hear.

Cregan didn’t reply, his face unreadable as he spurred his horse forward.

The hounds broke through the underbrush, and a massive stag emerged ahead, its antlers a crown of jagged bone. The creature was enormous, its deep brown coat streaked with silver, its every movement majestic yet powerful. It stood for a moment, nostrils flaring as it surveyed its pursuers, before bounding away with the speed of a shadow.

“After it!” Bennard roared, his voice cutting through the forest.

The chase began. Riders spurred their mounts forward, weaving through trees, their breath clouding the cold air. The stag led them deep into the woods, over uneven ground and through patches of bramble that clawed at the horses’ legs.

The lords watched keenly as the two Starks took the lead, their focus shifting between Bennard and Cregan. Bennard’s commands were sharp, his movements deliberate, while Cregan’s pursuit was more instinctive, a quiet intensity guiding him.

The stag veered into a clearing, and the riders spread out, encircling it. Bennard surged ahead, his spear at the ready. The lords murmured their approval, watching the older Stark claim his prize.

Bennard closed in, the stag now cornered against a rocky outcrop. The animal snorted, its breath steaming, its massive chest heaving. Bennard raised his spear, poised to strike, his face alight with triumph.

But as he moved in for the killing blow, the stag lunged, its antlers striking upward in a sudden, feral burst of strength. A sharp crack echoed through the clearing as one jagged antler drove deep into Bennard’s abdomen.

Gasps filled the air as Bennard stumbled back, blood already staining his tunic. The stag broke free, vanishing into the woods as the hounds barked frantically.

“Uncle!” Cregan was off his horse in an instant, catching his uncle as he collapsed.

The lords dismounted, their earlier confidence in Bennard now replaced with uncertainty and dread.

“Get him to Winterfell!” Cregan barked, his voice steady despite the chaos.

Two riders worked quickly to lift Bennard onto a makeshift stretcher. Blood trailed behind them as they rode back to the castle, the mood grim.

The Great Hall was eerily quiet as Bennard was laid out before the maester’s table. The old man worked furiously, his hands stained red as he tried to stem the bleeding. Bennard’s breaths were shallow, his face pale and slick with sweat.

The lords gathered outside, their whispers growing louder with every passing moment. Tension hung heavy in the air—who would lead if Bennard succumbed?

Cregan stood by the door, his fists clenched at his sides. His gaze was fixed on the floor, but his mind churned with a storm of emotions.

The maester emerged finally, shaking his head. “The wound is too deep. There’s nothing more to be done.”

But before Cregan could respond, Bennard’s body went slack, his final breath slipping from his lips.

The room fell silent, the weight of Bennard’s death sinking in.

Outside, the lords began to stir. All eyes turned to Cregan, the boy who would now have to rise as a man—and as the head of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.

Cregan turned around leaving orders behind to tend to his uncle’s body.

He walked outside and there you were with a grim look on your face. That was the first time he had ever seen you make such an expression. His mind drifted to the strange dream he had of you both. It made him feel unease paired with another feeling he’d rather look into.

You both stood there looking at one another before you gave a tilt of your head acknowledging him as Lord of Winterfell. Cregan never had the intention of killing his uncle. He was not a kinslayer. He owed it to his cousins that he could sleep well in the night the day they brought the wolf’s head to him. Even if his uncle did seem to be slow in giving up power, Cregan Stark is not a kinslayer.

He hoped you knew that as well.

…

In the instant, Bennard felt the intrusion of the stag’s antlers; he wished for the blood you so often healed him with after you’ve had your fun with him. He never did feel the pain when you had your fun, nor did he remember it all that well.

He grew sloppy in his time with you. Bennard grew to believe that he could heal just as he did whenever you bit into him tearing away at the flesh. However, this white-hot and flashing pain brings him back to the reality that he is nothing like you and that you have rejected him and his offer to spend eternity with you.

He was never anything significant to you, he couldn’t have been, especially not with those cold eyes you regarded him with as he was being carried into the halls of Winterfell. He attempted to call your name but there was just so much blood. Blood that seeped into his lungs. He needed to be saved. He needed you and yet you would not come.

You would leave him, and now that he was gone, you’d stay by Cregan’s side for all of eternity, mayhaps even share his bed as you once did with him.

“There’s an artery here.” Bennard hears you say though he does not register the words only focused on the pleasure you give him. Faster than he can register his face is grabbed by your hands and he is looking straight into your eyes. “It won’t hurt so don’t scream.”

But it did hurt, yet Bennard did not scream. He did not because you told him not to. Try as he might, Bennard could not, but it hurt. He remembers the dark smile you give him with impossibly large fangs and dark veins that pool underneath your eyes. Your eyes now glowing a bright amber whilst the whites turn into a disturbing black. Your mouth is covered in his blood and it trickles down your breast and drops down onto his chest.

He looked over and once more he cannot scream as you play his arm which seems barely attached. He feels as if teeth are crushed underneath your strength as you push your bloody forearm to his mouth, shoving your blood down his throat.

He feels the muscles reattach themselves.

Bennard Stark cannot do this. Bennard cannot do this because you are exactly like the demons that were told to him when he was little. He cannot do this because he is only mortal.

Yet he is forced to stay silent as you have your fun with him, using his body as a toy for yourself while feasting on him as if he is livestock.

Your panting, laughs, sounds of pleasure, and the pain he could not express is Bennard’s first memory when he awakes and realizes he just tore off some woman’s neck. He looked down towards his blood stained hands. He didn’t mean to rip off her head but it just felt so good. He knelt down picking up her body trying to suck as much blood as he could. Bennard could not understand why was attempting to suck the small amount of blood there was or why he was gnawing on the tendons within the neck trying to relieve the itch in his gums.

Bennard’s blood ran cold as he heard all too familiar laughter. He gripped the dead woman’s body and he felt the slight warm stickiness of his fingers being inside her arm.

He saw you nod with a false smile. You gave two slow and drawn out claps as you walked to him. “Did you know? If you did, color me impressed. I gave you nothing in knowledge of how to become like me.”

“I remember.” Yet despite this Bennard does not run away in fear from you and your cruel acts but instead feels as if there is a strong connection between you and him. A string that keeps him tether to you, something that is undeniable and yet Bennard cannot place it.

“Do you feel it?” He felt your hand that used to feel like a burning fever to him now feels like a soothing fire licking against his skin. “The urge to drink. Did you mean to tear off her head? Do you care?”

Bennard said nothing and you sighed. Once more Bennard Stark felt a foreign intrusion on his body. He looked down and felt your hand cupping his heart. “I told you my gift was not for sharing.” He felt a tug and he gripped your wrist.

“Please!” he pleaded for his life, even now, even now that he should be your equal. You are still stronger and once more he is at your mercy. “I will not be like the others.” He did not know to whom he referred to but it is what he says.

Bennard does not know why you look at him with such eyes. Eyes that seem to reflect the slightest bit of empathy from you. He had never seen the eyes you show him now. Not even when you almost tore off his arm. You did not care for him then, so why do you care now? Bennard Stark does not recognize your eyes. He does recognize the strange feeling of your grip on his heart softening until eventually your hand is out of his chest drenched in blood. He feels himself heal without the need of your blood, but there is still a need for you.

He watched you stand over him welcoming him to eternity before leaving him there.

…

Bennard does not fully understand what is happening to him, the shift within his very being. He cannot comprehend why the Lords around him speak so loudly, their voices grating on his heightened senses. It’s as though the words are not spoken but shouted, amplified by some unseen force. He can see every flaw, each small imperfection that he never noticed before—the slight tremble in a hand, the quiver of a lip, the beads of sweat on their brows. But it’s the smell that overwhelms him. The air, thick with the scent of fear and sweat, chokes him.

Most haunting of all, however, is the sound. The steady, rhythmic beating of their hearts. His senses are stretched thin, strained with every pulse that echoes louder in his ears. He can hear the heart of his nephew, faster than the others, a drumbeat of uncertainty.

Bennard turns slowly, his gaze falling upon Cregan. The boy—the man—sits where Bennard once did, yet it’s as if he’s a stranger in that seat now, looking at Bennard with eyes full of disbelief and something else he cannot place. The intensity of it claws at him. He can see it. He can feel it in his bones—the tension, the unsaid words, the weight of a thousand expectations hanging over Cregan like a sword.

A wave of something primal rises in him. Jealousy. Unwanted. Unfamiliar. It burns in his chest, hot and bitter. He does not understand why he feels it—why this boy, this man, should make him feel as though he’s losing something he didn’t even know he had. He doesn’t understand why he suddenly sees Cregan, not as a nephew, but as a rival—someone who has taken something from him without even knowing it.

His vision blurs. The edges of the room pulse with a foreign intensity. The voices—no, the yelling—pierce his skull, each word splitting his thoughts like jagged glass. They are not yelling. They cannot be. But to Bennard, it feels as if the air is full of nothing but noise, and he is drowning in it. He could feel the pressure building, the rage coiling tighter in his chest, tightening his throat.

He wants to snap, to lash out, to tear the next fool apart who dares to speak over him, yet he does nothing. Not yet. He fights against the urge, his hands trembling at his sides. But he does not understand. He doesn’t understand any of it.

And that, in itself, terrifies him.

The murmurs of dissent and the rising tide of voices fill the air as the lords gather, each one casting a sharp glance toward Bennard, whose presence is unsettling and unpredictable. His senses are on edge, but there is something more—an instinct gnawing at him, a sense of separation from the life he once knew. The Lords of the North were no longer looking at him with the same reverence. Their words cut through the air like knives.

“Bennard Stark is not fit to rule. Not after what’s happened,” Lord Cerwyn said, his voice hard as stone, his brow furrowed. The others murmured in agreement, their eyes flicking to Bennard with both suspicion and trepidation.

“His strange recovery, his silence—this is no man, this is a shadow,” Lord Flint of Widow's Watch added, a sneer curling at the edge of his lips. “Cregan was always meant to rise. Bennard was never anything but a regent. Lord Cregan is the future of Winterfell, the future of this North. Not this... thing.”

Lord Mormont of Bear Island grunted in disagreement. “Aye, but Cregan is a boy. He may be heir, but he’s untested, untried. Bennard may be... changed, but he has years of leadership behind him. Let him reign until the boy’s ten and six name-day as was agreed.”

Bennard watches as Cregan’s head snaps towards Lord Mormont.

“I am no boy. I ceased being a boy the day my father was killed. I was to rise as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North on my ten and fifth name-day. It is only a few months away and I have already taken the seat.” Cregan speaks and a prick of irritation itches at Bennard.

“My Lord, you are still young and your uncle has wisdom you do not yet have.”

Yet the other lords were not so easily swayed. “Wisdom? After everything we’ve seen?” Lord Tallhart of Torrhen’s Square’s voice was like ice. “No one can trust a man who’s risen from death. Cregan, on the other hand, he is alive—that is something we can trust.”

Lord Karstark of Karhold stepped forward, his sharp gaze locking onto Bennard. “Perhaps the decision lies not in what Bennard has become, but in what he is still capable of. If the rumors are true, if he has been healed by unnatural means, who knows what further strength lies within him?”

The murmur of lords continued to grow louder, some voices rising in favor of Bennard, others clearly advocating for Cregan’s ascendancy. The tension in the room was palpable. Cregan stood, watching them all, his hands gripping the edge of the table, the weight of their gaze bearing down on him. He did not know what to feel. Should he be relieved that his uncle’s life had been spared? Or should he be afraid of the man Bennard had become—someone who, despite the years of kinship, now seemed an impossible distance away?

“Let us not be hasty in our judgment,” Lord Umber of the Last Hearth said, his voice low but firm. “We are the North. We are no strangers to hardship, to change. We must take time and let the truth of this new situation unfold. The boy has potential, yes,” he nodded at Cregan, “but we should not forget the man who once stood as regent.”

Lord Reed of Greywater Watch cleared his throat. “There is still much to be discussed. But in the meantime, the North is fractured. We cannot afford to wait too long. There is danger out there. In the meantime, we need a leader.”

“Enough!” Bennard’s voice cracked the air, a deep growl in his chest. His eyes flashed in a moment of clarity, his form shifting like a storm cloud, brimming with the anger and confusion he’d kept bottled inside. “You would so easily throw me aside, forget everything I’ve done? I’ve ruled this house, guided the North through its darkest days. You think you can replace me with a boy?” His words, low and guttural, reverberated through the room.

The lords fell silent, some of them flinching at the force of Bennard’s voice, others surprised by his outburst.

Cregan stepped forward, his gaze never leaving his uncle. “The North nor Winterfell was never yours uncle,” he said, his voice steady, betraying no emotion despite the weight of the moment. “Go and live your life and live it well uncle. For the gods have seen fit to give you a second chance. ”

The words cut through Bennard like a blade, sharp and final. But beneath the coldness of Cregan’s words, he could sense the struggle within him. Does he want this? Does he truly believe he deserves it? Bennard thought, feeling that strange tether between them, unspoken but undeniable.

“You are not fit to rule now, Bennard,” Lord Cerwyn said again, his words echoing louder in the stillness of the room.

Bennard’s fists clenched. They do not understand. They cannot.

It was true—he had changed. But it was not the change they saw, not the one they feared. He had not lost everything. Not yet.

…

Cregan sat still within the bath as he felt you wash him. “Do you think my uncle will rise against me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with uncertainty. You dipped the cloth into the warm water, wringing it out before pressing it to his back. The heat softened the tension in his shoulders, though you felt the tightness in his muscles as he awaited your answer.

“Bennard is no fool,” you replied, your voice low and measured, as if the very walls of Winterfell had ears. “But desperation can drive even the wisest men to madness. And your uncle… Well, he is not what he once was.” You ran the cloth down his spine, watching the water trail along the lines of his body. “What he has become—what you fear—is not without reason.”

Cregan tilted his head slightly, the candlelight catching the sharp lines of his face. He looked older in this moment, the boyishness slipping away as the weight of leadership settled fully upon him. “The lords whisper of dark magic, of curses brought from beyond the Wall. They look to me for answers, but I… I do not know what to say.”

“You say nothing,” you said simply, leaning closer so that your lips were near his ear. “Let them speculate. Fear can be a useful tool, so long as it does not consume you. Your silence will remind them that you are their lord. That it is not their place to question what lies beyond their understanding.”

Your breath against his skin sent a strange shiver down his spine, one he quickly tried to suppress. He shifted slightly in the bath, pretending to adjust for comfort. But it wasn’t discomfort he felt—it was something else entirely, something unfamiliar that made his heart beat just a little faster.

Cregan exhaled, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl. “And what of Bennard? Should I let him linger in the shadows, where his power festers and grows?”

“Power festers only when it is left unchecked,” you murmured, moving the cloth to his arm, your touch deliberate. “Bennard must know his place. He must see that you are Winterfell’s lord now, not a boy who can be dismissed. He may test you, Cregan, but that is the nature of men.”

He turned his head then, his sharp gray eyes locking onto yours. The flickering firelight danced across your face, casting shadows that seemed to accentuate the sharp elegance of your features. For a moment, his thoughts wandered—to the way your voice always seemed to carry an air of command, to the unearthly warmth of your touch, to the way your presence seemed to fill the room in a way that made it impossible to ignore you.

“And if he does rise against me? If he forced my hand?”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze with a calm that bordered on unsettling. “Then you do what must be done. A Stark does not shy away from duty, even when it cuts deep. You are no kinslayer, but you are also no boy playing at lordship. The North will not forgive weakness.”

Cregan’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists on the edge of the bath. You reached out, brushing your fingers over his knuckles, the touch both intimate and commanding. His breath caught for the briefest of moments, though he was quick to mask it. There was something intoxicating about the way your touch lingered just long enough to feel intentional, like a whisper meant only for him.

“Remember, Cregan, the North is a harsh place. It respects strength above all else. Remember, where a Stark goes, the North follows.”

The silence stretched between you as he absorbed your words, the flickering flames casting shadows across his face. Finally, he nodded, the faintest trace of resolve hardening in his expression.

“I will do what must be done,” he said, his voice steady now, the uncertainty retreating like frost in the sunlight.

You smiled faintly, leaning closer so that your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Good. You’ll find, my lord, that the wolves of Winterfell are at their best when they remember who holds the leash.”

Cregan’s breath hitched ever so slightly, a reaction he couldn’t hide. As you rose, leaving him to his thoughts in the still warmth of the bath, his eyes lingered on you longer than he intended. There was something about you he couldn’t quite place—something beyond your sharp mind and mysterious allure. A pull, a tether he didn’t understand, and yet he found himself unwilling to sever it.

The fire crackled softly, and the distant howl of a wolf echoed through the halls, a haunting reminder of the nature of the beasts who called this place home. Cregan Stark stared into the flames, feeling the stirrings of something he dared not name, but something he knew he could not ignore.

Cregan lingered in the bath long after you left, the water cooling around him as his thoughts churned like the restless winds outside Winterfell. His uncle’s shadow loomed large in his mind, but it was your presence that seemed to haunt him more. The feel of your hands, the heat of your breath against his ear—it lingered in ways that unnerved and thrilled him in equal measure.

He dressed slowly, his hands steady but his mind a tempest. The lords were restless. He would need to address them soon, to put to rest their doubts about his rule—and about his uncle. Yet every time he tried to focus, his thoughts drifted back to you.

You were unlike anyone he had ever known, your beauty as sharp and cold as the ice of the Wall, yet there was a warmth in your touch that defied reason. It unsettled him, that duality, that ability to disarm him with a glance or a word. You were a mystery he couldn’t solve, and that made him want to understand you all the more.

…

Cregan turned sharply as the heavy doors of the hall creaked open, his pulse quickening with the expectation of another interruption. When he saw it was you, slipping in quietly along the edge of the room, his tension eased—but only slightly. You stayed in the periphery, your head bowed, moving as if invisible to the gathering of lords.

Yet you weren’t invisible to him.

Cregan caught a flicker of your face in the torchlight—calm, composed, with an enigmatic air that never failed to pull at his focus. You stayed close to the shadows, hands clasped as though to blend in with the backdrop of stone and history. And yet, despite your silence, despite the way you kept your distance, he could feel your presence. It was like the faint heat of embers on a cold night: subtle, but impossible to ignore.

He turned back to the lords, forcing his attention to the matter at hand. Bolton’s accusations hung in the air like frost, and the lords stood divided, some murmuring their support for Bennard Stark as regent while others argued for Cregan to solidify his position without delay.

“Do you think he is one of them?” asked Lord Hornwood, his voice barely above a whisper but loud enough to reach every ear. “The dead who walk beyond the Wall?”

A murmur rippled through the hall, fear twisting through the voices of those present.

Cregan straightened his shoulders, his gray eyes hard as steel. “Bennard Stark is no wight. He is a man, as he always has been. Whatever fate brought him back, it was not the magic of the Wall or the work of the Others.”

“And yet,” said Lord Bolton with a sharpness that turned heads, “his return defies nature. A man who dies and rises again is not a man at all but a herald of something darker.”

The hall erupted into low voices again, doubts blooming like dark flowers in the collective mind of the North’s leadership.

Cregan opened his mouth to speak, but his gaze flicked to you—just for a moment. You remained at the edge of the room, your expression inscrutable as you watched the scene unfold. Something about your stillness grounded him, giving him the clarity to push past the storm in his own thoughts.

“I am the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North,” Cregan said, his voice cutting through the noise. “And the North will not be ruled by fear.”

The lords fell silent again, their murmurs stilled by the weight in his tone. “If there is any among you who believes Bennard Stark is better suited to this seat, speak now. If you wish to follow a man who does not understand what he is, let us hear your reasons. But if you stand with tradition, then stand with me.”

His declaration silenced the hall, and the lords exchanged hesitant glances. Slowly, one by one, heads dipped in reluctant assent.

Cregan exhaled softly, the tension in his chest loosening as the lords dispersed, though Bolton lingered a moment longer before turning on his heel.

When the room finally emptied, he turned toward where you stood. You hadn’t moved, though your gaze met his briefly before darting away.

Cregan approached, his boots echoing softly against the stone floor. “I saw you,” he said quietly, his voice steady but carrying a hint of something unspoken. “Watching.”

Your head tilted slightly, but you didn’t speak, only offered a faint shrug as if to dismiss the significance.

For a moment, he hesitated, caught between his role as lord and the growing complexity of what you were to him. “You’ve been silent,” he added, his words slow and deliberate. “But your silence speaks louder than most.”

Your lips curved in the faintest of smiles, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “Then perhaps it’s better I remain silent.”

He frowned, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. “Why do you hide?” The question was out before he could stop it, and he immediately regretted how exposed it made him sound.

But you only gave him the barest of looks before dipping your head. “I serve you, my lord. That is all.”

Cregan watched as you turned and walked away, your figure fading into the shadows. Something in his chest tightened, and he hated how your retreat left a hollow space where you’d stood. He shook his head, dispelling the feelings he wasn’t ready to name, and turned back toward his seat. Winterfell needed its lord now more than ever.

And yet, even as he climbed the stairs to his chambers, the echo of your presence lingered like the fading warmth of a fire.

…

The night was bitter, cold winds howling through the trees as Bennard Stark crouched over the still-warm body of his latest experiment. Blood dripped from his chin, steaming faintly in the freezing air, and his hands trembled as he pressed them against the deep punctures in the poor woman’s neck. She was still alive—barely. Her heart stuttered weakly, a fragile bird caught in the jaws of a wolf.

“Breathe,” he hissed, though the words were as much for himself as they were for her. Bennard forced his wrist against her mouth, slitting the skin with one of his sharp teeth. Blood welled up, dark and rich, and he shoved it against her lips. “Drink! You have to drink.”

The woman gagged, her body convulsing as life drained from her. Her lips parted, and for a moment, Bennard thought she might take what he offered. But then her eyes rolled back, and her body went slack.

“No,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he pulled her closer, shaking her lifeless form as if that might stir her awake. “No! Damn you, wake up!”

He threw her body to the ground in a fit of rage, standing and staggering back. His breaths came hard and fast, clouds of vapor escaping his mouth. Around him, the forest was silent, the trees bearing witness to his repeated failures.

Bennard ran his hand through his disheveled hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands. This wasn’t supposed to be so difficult. You made it look so easy—effortless, even. He’d seen you bite into yourself and feed him and now he emulated what you were. This shouldn’t be this hard and yet, every time he tried, the bloodlust overwhelmed him. Every time he thought he’d held back enough, the hunger would flare again, and by the time he came to his senses, it was too late.

He staggered toward a nearby rock, sinking down onto it and burying his face in his hands. The dead woman’s blood was still fresh on his tongue, the sweetness of it both sickening and tantalizing. Bennard had thought immortality would bring power, control, understanding—but it had only brought him madness.

His thoughts turned, as they always did, to his sons. He had left Winterfell behind, knowing that as long as Cregan sat in the lord’s seat, there was no place for him there. But his sons—his blood—they were his legacy. They were his. And he wouldn’t leave them behind, not to grow into pawns of their cousin. No, he would return for them. He would turn them. He would give them what you had refused to share with him.

But first, he had to succeed. He couldn’t risk turning them until he knew how to control this—how to control himself.

Bennard glanced back at the lifeless bodies lying in the snow. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.

Another failure. Another waste.

His jaw tightened, and his gray eyes, so similar to Cregan’s, hardened like ice. He would find another. He would keep trying. He had eternity now, after all.

Hours later Bennard wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his trembling hand, staring down at the lifeless body before him. Another failure. He had meant to stop, had meant to hold back—to give the young man enough of his own blood to rise again, stronger, eternal. But hunger was a cruel and impatient master. Once more, he had lost control. Once more, his instincts had betrayed him.

“Damn it,” he hissed, his voice raw with frustration. He kicked the body away, sending it rolling into the underbrush. His boots crunched against the frost-covered ground as he turned, pacing in the small clearing. The scent of death hung heavy in the air, and he could feel the blood calling to him, tempting him to return for just one more taste.

He clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms. “No,” he muttered, forcing himself to look away. “No more distractions.”

Bennard Stark had a purpose, a claim to protect. Winterfell was his. It was his by strength, and by the blood of his sons. He would not let it slip through his fingers simply because the hunger was stronger than he had anticipated. No, this was something to master, not something to fear.

But though he thought those words it did not change that the second Bennard was not feasting on blood his chest would heave but not from exhaustion—he no longer tired in the mortal sense—but from the strain of holding himself together. The hunger clawed at his insides, a beast gnawing on his very bones. It whispered to him, coaxing him to give in, to take what he needed. It would be so easy. Just one more.

The snow beneath his boots was stained red, a trail of death marking his passage.

He didn’t even remember when he had fed last—had it been hours? Days? (Only a couple of seconds ago)

Time blurred in his mind, each moment bleeding into the next. All he knew was the burn in his throat, the ache in his jaw, and the sickening sweetness of blood still clinging to his lips.

His sons. The thought of them steadied him, gave him focus. If he could perfect the process, they would inherit more than just Winterfell—they would inherit eternity. His legacy would be unbroken, his name immortalized through them. They would rule the North forever, unyielding as the winter winds.

But he had to figure it out first. He glanced back at the body he had discarded, his stomach twisting with anger and shame. This was the fourth time he had tried, the fourth time he had failed. Each time, the hunger overtook him before he could complete the transformation. He hated himself for it, hated the weakness that left him crouched over lifeless bodies, too ravenous to stop.

Still, he refused to give up. “Not like the others,” he whispered to himself, the words a fragile tether keeping him anchored. The very words he spoke to you without knowing what they meant. Perhaps he means The Others, the monstrous things that lurked in the shadows beyond the Wall, the ones spoken of in stories meant to frighten children. Bennard had heard whispers from the lords of Winterfell, tales of ice-eyed demons and wights with dead flesh. Whatever he had become, he would not let himself fall into the madness that had consumed them.

No, he was stronger than that. He was Bennard Stark.

He thought of Cregan then, the boy who now sat in his seat. His nephew, surrounded by whispering lords, looking every bit the young wolf ready to sink his teeth into the North. Bennard could feel the anger bubbling beneath his skin, the jealousy that burned hotter than the bloodlust. That seat was his. It had always been his. “I will take it back,” he growled, his voice low and feral. “And my sons will rule after me.”

The hunger clawed at him again, sharper this time, more insistent. His teeth ached, and his throat burned. He gritted his teeth, his resolve slipping for a moment before he pushed it down, forcing himself to think clearly. He needed another subject, someone stronger, someone who could withstand the process. Not just anyone—he needed the perfect candidate.

He set his jaw, his mind already working. The sons of lesser houses, loyal bannermen—they could be useful. None of them would be missed for long, and their loyalty would ensure their silence, at least until he succeeded. But first, he had to control himself. He had to master this curse before it mastered him.

The hunger surged again, and he stumbled, his vision blurring. He caught himself against a tree, his breaths ragged. The thought of you crept into his mind unbidden, the way your eyes glinted with cruel amusement when you looked at him, the way you had left him in that room with nothing but this insatiable thirst and the cruel welcome of eternity. You had made it look so easy, as if hunger was nothing but a tool to be wielded at your will.

(You had said it took you a century to control it)

Bennard snarled, shaking the thought away. He couldn’t dwell on you—not now. You weren’t his savior, nor his ally. You were a reminder of his weakness, of the power he had yet to claim for himself. And he would claim it. He had to.

(Yet there was the string that commanded him to you.)

His legacy demanded it.

Standing, Bennard turned and began to walk deeper into the forest, leaving the bodies behind for the wolves. His hunger gnawed at him, he felt almost inclined to welcome it. The hunger was the only thing that felt real anymore, the only thing that reminded him he was still something alive—or close enough to it.

As he moved through the trees, his mind burned with thoughts of his sons. One day, they would join him in this eternal hunt. One day, they would understand. The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives, but what is dead may never die but rises again, harder and stronger.

Now here Bennard stood, dead but harder and stronger than ever before even as he walks the line that blur between his humanity and madness of hunger.

Bennard can hear the muscle of the neck ripping but at the moment he cannot bring himself to care, though he knows he should. In the end it is another head ripped and Bennard grunts in frustration pushing back the urge to chew on the muscles as one would with sugar canes. To chew and feel the sweet juice spill out and spit out whatever is not sweet.

Bennard’s ear twitches as he hears someone behind him pick up the body and what sounds like chewing. He turns around and to his surprise, there is the woman he killed yesterday. She had died yet now here she stood feeding on his left overs.

It was inhumane how the woman feasted. He looked around seeing five more bodies quickly run to the corpse trying to ingest the blood.

He cut into his wrist and watched the blood leak out before the wound closed. All of them had been given blood and now they rise.

Bennard nodded before pulling off the woman. In turn the other five leaped on him.

They were mistakes. Things like this shouldn’t exist.

(This was your sire line, forever cursed.)

Bennard reached into the chest of the woman pulling out her heart. He watched as her skin turned grey and her veins blackened. He made quick work of the others.

Bennard would take the seat of Winterfell with a four man army should the other lord refuse to return to him.

…

Cregan watched you as you seemed to look out the window of his bedroom, seemingly lost. The faint moonlight spilled over your figure, casting an ethereal glow that only deepened the mystery surrounding you. For the first time since you had arrived at Winterfell, your composure faltered.

He didn’t know what had caused it, but he could see the hesitation in your posture, the unspoken conflict pulling at your features. It was unsettling, a stark contrast to the unwavering confidence you exude in every other moment.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked, his voice quiet, careful not to disturb the fragile silence between you.

You didn’t turn to face him immediately. Your hand rested against the frosty windowpane, fingers splayed as if you were reaching for something beyond. The moonlight reflected in your eyes, and Cregan could almost see the weight of an ancient, unspeakable sorrow there. It was a moment of raw vulnerability, one that seemed to shake the very core of your being.

It wasn’t until he moved closer that you finally spoke, your voice low, almost a whisper. “There is something out there, and I am… afraid.”

In his years of knowing you, that was the first time you had ever looked to be your age and not someone who was full of mystery. At that moment, you looked like a girl who was afraid of the dark.

“You needn’t fear it,” Cregan said softly, standing still before you, his steps slow, deliberate, like moving too quickly might make you slip away from him again, like you might begin moving again and once more he would have to run to see those eyes he once feared yet now yearns for them.

“I do not fear it. I fear what I must do.” What was cryptic or literal, Cregan could not tell.

“Why?” Cregan asked, his voice barely above a murmur, and you finally turned to face him. His breath hitched as his gaze met yours. Those eyes that are so familiar yet he can never place them.

His heart pounded in his chest. He should have felt a sense of guilt, of duty toward his betrothed, Arra Norrey, but instead, all he could focus on was you. It was strange, unnatural almost, how deeply his heart responded to you, and yet, in the same breath, he tried to suppress it. He couldn’t afford to feel this way.

“It hurts. I have never had children,” you said, and Cregan frowned, confused. “But I imagine what I must do is what it feels like to have to end the life of your child.”

The words sank into him like a heavy stone. He finally stood beside you looking into your eyes. He watched a lone tear fall from your eye, and he saw the delicate quiver of your lip as you turned your gaze away.

“Do you love him?” Cregan blurted before he could stop himself. The question felt too raw, too personal. He regretted it the instant the words left his mouth, but now they hung between them, like a thick fog.

You met his eyes, and Cregan’s heart twisted painfully. “He had made himself one with me. He had tethered himself to me.”

It hurt to hear it. It felt like a blow to his chest, even though he couldn’t fully understand why. His eyes flicked down to your belly, and for a moment, a cold dread washed over him. Would it swell with his uncle’s child soon? Could you really still be carrying the ghost of Bennard with you? The feeling burned in his chest, bitter and raw.

(Mayhaps Cregan should’ve been more assertive in matters concerning you. He will.)

Cregan reached for your unnaturally warm hands, pulling them into his. He had long learned to welcome the heat in them. Winter was cold and harsh, and you, with your warmth, were something he could cling to. Something real. Something that might be worth fighting for.

“You do not have to bring dishonor upon your family name,” he said, his voice firm, a slight tremor in his words betraying the strength of his emotions.

You gave a smile, though it was faint and sad. “My father and my mother have already named me an abomination, whilst my brothers and hunters call my blood a stain and a plague upon the world. There is no one to save me.”

“They are wrong,” Cregan said with conviction, his grip tightening around your hands. “You have been a pillar in my life despite your short time with me. You’ve brought stability when others could not. That is why I offer this to you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Your gaze seemed to drift elsewhere, as if lost in a thousand thoughts that Cregan couldn’t fathom. The silence between you stretched, and yet he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, as if you had become the only thing worth focusing on in a world that suddenly felt very distant.

He took a breath, his heart still racing in his chest, and before he could stop himself, the words spilled out.

“Marry me.”

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. The air between you seemed to crackle with the weight of the offer. Cregan could feel it—the tension, the gravity of what he was asking. His betrothed, Arra Norrey, was still in his life, and Cregan had not yet fully reconciled what this confession meant. He should’ve pushed the thought aside, but the desire to protect you, to offer you something better than the isolation and shame you had known for so long, overwhelmed him.

He didn’t want to be a man bound by duty and honor anymore. Not when it came to you.

He watched you smile and give a scoff before giving a softer smile. “Marriage would not save me dear boy.” And once more you walked ahead of him, leaving him to yearn for those eyes. Once more you reverted into a woman who seemed to have lived a thousand lives. “You must live your life with who you are intended to. Live your life well and true. Have your children, and I will live my own life. I fear what I must do, but I will do it anyway.”

Cregan stood still, his heart pounding in his chest, as the words you left behind echoed in the room. "Live my life well and true." The words rang in his ears, as though they were a reprimand. Have you been right? Had he been naive to think that what he felt for you could ever be enough to change the path you were on?

"Would you ever let anyone close enough to save you?" His thoughts churned as he watched you disappear into the shadows of the hallway.

He stood there for a moment longer, the sting of rejection biting deep into his chest. He had known it was impossible from the start. You were not a woman he could claim, not in the way his heart demanded. You were not someone who could be tethered by the simple promise of love.

But there, in the silence that followed your departure, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something inside him had shifted. The space between them had only grown, and yet... the desire to protect you, to make you feel seen, had only grown stronger. He could not make you stay, but Cregan felt that pull toward you more than ever.

He couldn’t help but wonder: If I can’t save you, what will become of you?

And in that moment, he realized there was more than just duty to him now. It was something deeper—something he could no longer ignore.

Cregan had fallen hopelessly in love with a woman who will not stop for him. Cregan has fallen for a woman who will not make an exception for him and he does not know to accept such a rejection.

…

Bennard Stark stood beneath the window where his eldest son slept.

The stone wall groaned under his fists as he struck it once, twice, again, until cracks formed like splintering ice. He wedged his fingers into the jagged crevices and climbed. With every pull upward, the scent of his son grew stronger—cloying, irresistible. It was unlike any blood he'd ever smelled. Mayhaps Starks were special. Mayhaps that was why you had chosen him, Bennard Stark, out of all the lords who’d sought your company.

Jealousy prickled under his skin like needles, a fiery knot in his gut. He exhaled, trying to force it away. The hunger gnawed sharper instead.

At last, he reached the window and climbed through, his broad frame casting shadows over the room. His son, Benjen, sat up, startled, pushing a maid off him as she screamed.

“Father!”

Bennard hissed sharply, the sound unnatural in his throat. He moved before he could think, his hand striking the maid. She crumpled to the floor, silent. For a long moment, Bennard stared at her form, confused, as though unsure of what he'd done. “She was too loud,” he said quietly, glancing back at Benjen as if this would calm him.

It didn’t.

“Father...” Benjen whispered, backing toward the wall, his face pale with fear. Bennard flinched as his son's gaze lingered on his face—his face. A ripple passed under his skin, his jaw aching as fangs pushed through his gums.

The hunger never did go away and for some reason his son’s blood smell was especially enticing. Mayhaps Starks were special, mayhaps it is why you chose him, Bennard Stark, out of many who sought to share your bed.

A nasty feeling of jealousy surged, he exhaled trying to rid himself of thoughts of you and the delicious smell his son emitted. Not only his blood, but something else. Something that made him all the more enticing and Bennard heard as his skin rippled unearthed his eyes and his new formed fangs grew.

“Father!” Benjen spoke worriedly seeing his father’s face warp into one of a demon. “You are unwell. Let me fetch the maester!”

Bennard watched as his son approached him. An irk of irritation picked at Bennard. He was not. You were not ill.

(Bennard could not afford to be cursed. He vowed to be different.)

“Sit down.” It was cold and sharp, the voice he would use when he would discipline Elric, the most troublesome of his sons, or when Bradon would help Benjen with his discrepancies. Bennard always meant well they were his sons, just as he meant well now. Bennard understands now, he knows how to give his sons the gift you so refused to.

“Father please,” Benjen pleaded and a white hot flash of anger hit Bennard and he faster than anyone could register Bennard was in front of his son telling him to sit down and wordlessly Benjen sat.

Bennard blinked in confusion. He could not understand why his son suddenly sat down so obediently. Though the gnawing hunger did not permit him to think for long. Once more Bennard exhaled trying to rid himself of the smell, all the smells in the room. Quickly Bennard sliced open his wrist. “Drink.” Once more he watched his son wordlessly drink from his wrist. Something about doing this felt violating. Like he was violating his son.

Bennard could not place why this felt so violating to him. Something threatening spilled into his mind but it was just tearting over the edge.

“It was me, y’know.”

Your voice echoed in his mind and a flash of anger pierced him yet it was laced with a need, a need for you.

“Go get your brothers.” Bennard watched as his son left the room and Bennard turned to look at himself in a mirror. In the mirror has a face he could not recognize. A face covered in blood, a face that was not human, a face that should not exist here. A face that was unnatural.

You giggled as you laid beside him coming down from your high. Bennard could see your bliss face. “I killed a lot of people that night.” You were always so talkative after you’ve hit your high. “It was my first time but it felt so good. So good to kill. That is who I am.”

Bennard could only lay next to you playing with your breasts. He had no idea what you spoke of but he listened to your voice. Bennard was only mortal. Bennard only ever had one life so he listened to your numerous lives. “I am superior. I am meant to kill. To finally feel freedom.” He watched you turn to him and give that cruel and unforgiving smile Bennard thinks he has grown to like. “I killed your brother.”

The chalice Bennard had in his hand bent in his grip as the memory that was shut away spilled into his mind.

You.

It was always you. You were not human. Bennard knew that. Bennard accepted that and somehow you had gotten Bennard to accept that you had killed his brother.

(The cord that binds him to you seems to thin the more he thinks. You are not a good person. You have never been a good person. And once more the cord seems to be snapping.)

Brandon and Elric walk in and the same routine happens.

“Father-”

“I will kill her. We will kill her.” Bennard spoke as he walked to his youngest; Elric. Bennard grabbed the sides of his son’s face and a pain bubbled in his chest. It hurts, it hurts in a way only a father can understand as he snaps his youngest neck. It hurts as he kills the rest of his children.

Bennard waited.

The room was silent save for the faint sounds—the grinding of bone, the snapping of joints as necks slowly realigned themselves. He sat in the chair, motionless, watching as his sons’ lifeless bodies began to stir. The unnatural crackling of their spines sent shivers down his arms, but Bennard did not flinch. He waited.

Elric’s fingers twitched first, then Bradon’s and Benjen’s. They groaned—soft at first, then louder, the sound wracked with pain as they clawed at their own mouths. Bennard knew the pain. He knew it intimately—the fangs pushing through tender gums, the fire coursing through veins as death welcomed you into its embrace.

But this was better. It had to be.

Because Bennard was here now.

He watched, unmoving, as his children staggered to their feet. Their eyes met his—empty, glazed, unnatural—and Bennard felt something twist inside him. A father’s guilt. A father’s pride.

He was here for them. He would walk with them.

A faint noise pulled the boys’ attention—a whimper, the maid, forgotten in a heap against the floor. She had been a person once. Now she was nothing but prey.

The change was instant.

Elric fell on her first, his small hands tearing into her throat with the blind fury of hunger. Bradon and Benjen followed, the three of them descending on her like starved animals. Flesh tore beneath their nails, blood sprayed in sickening arcs across the room, and Bennard watched as he stifled his own urges.

He watched as the maid’s screams died in her throat, gurgling into silence. He watched as their teeth sunk deep, as they drank greedily, pulling every drop of life from her until her flesh turned a pallid, lifeless grey. They tore her apart until there was nothing left but sinew and muscle—each strand dry and brittle, sucked clean of its blood.

And still, Bennard watches.

His sons finally stilled, blood dripping from their chins, panting like beasts who had feasted after a long famine. Slowly, they turned to him.

The whites of their eyes turned a deep red. Not the bright, burning crimson that might symbolize fire or fury. No—this was darker, deeper, like blood left to pool in the cold. The same eyes Bennard had seen reflected back at him in the mirror.

And for the briefest moment, he saw something else in their gaze. A flicker of confusion, a silent question. They looked at him with the same pleading eyes he once turned on you—begging for help, for understanding. For release.

Bennard rose from his chair and stepped toward them, his boots squelching through the blood that soaked the floorboards. He placed his hands on their shoulders, gripping firmly as though to tether them to him.

Elric’s lips quivered, stained red, and Bradon swayed on unsteady feet, and Benjen stood still looking down at his hands. They were his.

They were with him.

Bennard’s voice dropped to a whisper, his words a promise and a curse.

Bennard would be here, Bennard would walk with them as he too welcomed them into eternity with him.

His sons looked up at him, their monstrous forms reflected back in his hollow gaze, Bennard believed it.

This was better.

It had to be.

Bennard turned, his footsteps echoing through the halls as he and his sons moved like shadows through the keep that should belong to him. The stone walls seemed to close in, their silence broken only by the rhythmic thud of boots and the faint creak of loaded crossbows. His sons followed close behind, eyes gleaming unnaturally in the torchlight, their movements sharp, predatory—yet empty.

The cord that tethered him to you, fragile and fraying, seemed to pull him forward. Bennard could feel it: a thread barely holding, stretched thin between hatred and longing.

You were close.

His knuckles whitened around the pommel of the sword he carried. He could smell you now—blood, fire, and something else—something older than any curse he could name.

You were waiting.

He found you at the end of the hall, seated upon a carved chair that might have been mistaken for a throne in the dim torchlight. Blood stained your collar, your face wiped clean but your expression unreadable. A wolf, poised and ready to strike—or simply to watch.

You tilted your head, eyes flickering from Bennard to his sons, their trembling fingers gripping crossbows aimed straight at you. A smirk tugged at the corner of your mouth.

“Bennard,” you purred, your voice echoing softly against the stone. “You brought the boys.”

Bennard’s lip curled. “You did this,” he said, voice rough as gravel. “To me. To them.”

You shrugged, lazily resting your cheek against your knuckles as if you weren’t staring down four bloodthirsty monsters. “I told you,” you said, your tone languid, mocking. “You’re not special, Bennard. They die like any other.”

There was a change in your tone at the end—small, but it was enough. Bennard felt it, like a sting in his chest. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to kill him, just like you hadn’t when you first found him. And for a moment, the tie that bound him to you—thin, frayed—seemed to reform.

Bennard faltered. You saw it.

You closed the distance between you, the cord strengthening as your steps brought you closer.

“Put it down.”

Your voice was soft, almost gentle, and then Bennard felt it—your warmth against his ice-cold hand. A simple request, yet his resolve crumbled. He felt it slip away like sand through his fingers, and the weapon fell to the floor with a dull clang.

“Father?” Benjen’s voice came, uncertain and wary. But Bennard barely heard his son.

All he saw was you.

You smiled—a cruel, familiar curve of your lips. The one he knew he should hate, but never could.

“Well… isn’t this inconvenient for you,” you whispered, though it echoed in his ears like a bell tolling for his doom. “It’s always been more common for my sire line, I suppose.”

Bennard swallowed, though his throat was dry. You were smaller, yet it always felt as though he looked up at you.

“You love me.”

Three words. Three simple, shattering words. Bennard froze as the truth clawed at him, a truth he couldn’t bear to admit.

“Vampirism heightens emotions, enhances personality,” you continued, your tone soft as silk. “And someone like you, already brimming with jealousy, well…”

“How could I love someone who killed my brother?” His voice cracked, barely audible, as though saying the words might break him entirely.

“Because you need it,” you said. “And you took whatever scraps I gave you.”

Bennard flinched at the truth in your voice. You leaned closer, and his focus narrowed to your touch, the warmth of your hand against his cold cheek.

“You won’t kill me,” you murmured, and the words seeped into him like poison. “You can’t. And you know it.”

His resolve splintered further. Bennard watched as your gaze flickered toward his sons. In your eyes, he saw something that made his heartache—a shadow of love. Was it real? Did you love him? Did you love them?

Once more, the cord seemed to strengthen.

“A shame,” you murmured, brushing your hand against his face. A sad smile curved your lips, soft and devastating.

The urge hit him like a blow: an overwhelming need to please you, to do whatever it took to make you happy. To love and serve.

When you wrapped your arms around him, Bennard sank into the embrace without hesitation, his own arms circling you. It was the first time you had ever held him, and he clung to it, to you. You were so warm. Always warm.

“You would do anything for me,” you whispered against his ear, your hand soothing against his back.

I would, he thought. I would do anything.

Your lips pressed to his cheek—warm, tender—and yet the words that followed were so cold, they sent a shiver through his soul.

“Kill them.”

Bennard stiffened. His mind reeled, his heart hammering in his chest. He tried to pull away, to look at you, but your hold was unyielding.

“For me,” you whispered, soft and deadly. “I cannot. But you must. Kill them.”

Bennard’s breath caught in his throat, the weight of your words pressing into him like a vice.

But the cord—the cord no longer seemed to form.

Because a father’s love is eternal.

Bennard shoved you and when he looked at you again all you held was a look of pity. It was unchanging. It almost seemed as if you did feel sorry. As if you truly could not kill but he has seen you take lives as if it meant nothing so why do you look at him like this?

“Bennard.” Your call was sharp and he looked at you. Your eyes were impossible to look away from. He could feel your words seep into his being that way it did when he was human. The way your compulsion would force him to sit quiet as you ripped him apart. Bennard was not human so why was he picking up a stake he dropped? Why was he heading your command?

“Kill them.”

Your words were absolute. Your word was law.

…

Cregan jolted awake to the sound of frantic shouts just beyond his door. Ice was in his hand before he even registered the chill in the air, the weight of the greatsword grounding him as he stepped into the darkened hall. Shadows loomed and danced in the torchlight, and for a moment, his still-sleep-heavy mind couldn’t make sense of the scene before him.

Two figures. One pressing the other against the stone wall. The realization came like a punch to his gut—it was you.

Cregan shouted your name, voice raw with confusion and dread. He regretted it the instant the word left his mouth.

Cregan made a cry of protest and it was strangled in his throat as his uncle’s hand closed around your neck like a vice. You clawed desperately at his grip, nails scratching red streaks across his skin as he shook you, his face twisted into something monstrous—grief and fury wearing the mask of a man.

“You never cared!” his uncle’s voice thundered, a savage roar that bounced off the stone walls and buried itself in Cregan’s chest. “Not about me! Not about my sons! Not even about Cregan!”

Each word lashed like a whip, raw and venomous, spit into your face as if they might draw blood. Cregan stood frozen, his knuckles white on the hilt of Ice, the rest of his body locked as though shackled in iron. Cregan simply stood there as if he was a stranger in his own body. He could only plead with himself to move.

His uncle continued to shout, shaking his head. Finally Cregan’s body allowed him to react. He lifted Ice though he could only watch as you were thrown to the side, the sound of your bones breaking as you collided into a wall then slid to the ground loud in his ears, and his Uncle gripped Ice before throwing him to the side.

“It was her Cregan! She killed your father! She could care less about you! She is deceiving you!” His uncles yelled and Cregan’s eyes shifted over to you. You? No. No, not you. You who were on the floor writing in pain.

Cregan was there that day. A wolf killed his father. A wolf with amber eyes. Those were not your eyes. Your eyes were always familiar. Familiar.

(There was a sense of recognition that Cregan would not accept.)

It wasn’t possible. You were no wolf. You simply were. A now you were groaning in pain because Cregan can only assume how many of your bones were broken.

“She is not human Cregan. She made me.” Cregan heard as his uncle spoke. He could not understand. Cregan could not process what was happening. Not the face his uncle had with long fangs and dark eyes. Cregan could not understand.

Cregan does not understand how in a blink an eye his uncle has left him and is not about to stab a stake through you.

Just like that day, the day when he killed the wolf, Cregan’s body acted on instinct and once more he lifted Ice, shoving it down his Uncle’s chest over and over again until it slumped over.

And just like last time Cregan had acted too late for when he withdrew his sword and his uncle slumped to the side he saw a stake driven into your chest while you had a desperate look on your face as you held onto the piece of wood.

The same face you had him only hours ago. A look of fear and uncertainty. Cregan shook his head as he felt a sharp pain in his jaw travel to his tear duct.

“It’s…” He watched you exhale trying to catch your breath which he knew you never would. “It’s okay.”

Cregan felt frozen. Frozen as guards came and tried to pry him away from you. Frozen as guards dragged away his dead uncle. Frozen as you assured him.

“Pull it out.” Cregan blinked a tear fell on your face. He shook his head. You’d die. (He knew you were already dead but Cregan refused to accept it.)

“It’s okay.” Your hand warm as always held him as you guided it to the stake. He grabbed it tight so that he was sure the splinter would mark his hand.

He felt a slight squeeze from you. He lowered his face to yours feeling the warmth of his skin contrast the cold starting to seep into you. You were always supposed to be the warm one. You were the one who was supposed to keep him warm through the cold nights in Winterfell, yet you lay here dying in his arms colder than anyone should ever.

It was bad timing. Cregan knows it is. Cregan knows he has been rejected already yet it does not stop him from pressing his lips against yours. Your lips which he always imagined would be warm. Warm like the summer he was born in. Warm like summer before his father’s death. Warm like the first time he felt your hands on his skin.

You were warm and yet you were now cold. So cold as he pulled the stake from you in one move swallowing your groan as he kept his lips against yours.

He felt the cold spread faster than before. It was dark in the corridor yet he could see your familiar eyes.

“Please.” He pleaded with you. He needed you to stay. He needed you in the way one would always need you. Cregan would’ve married you, honor be damned. Yet here you lay dying because of Cregan’s indecisiveness. Had he sent his uncle away or something. You would be alive and he would watch your belly swell with child and even if it was not his he would not mind because you were alive.

Once more he pressed his lips against yours desperate to communicate everything he had grown to feel in these two years. He felt your cold hand on the side of his face.

“Live your life.” It was all you said before your eyes glazed over and a strange and untrue grey took over with dark veins becoming visible. Cregan could only press his lips to yours as if you were still here.

…

You are always one for theatrics. It was a trait all Mikealsons shared and you were no different. Sure maybe dying in front of the kid was a bit much but oh well. Your pennacne was done. For a lifetime you have served him. Was it your fault that Bennard cut your lifetime short? No, not really.

It was. You could’ve stopped Bennard from shoving a stake through your heart, but in all honesty you’d rather not stay in a place that was for one getting really boring and two where your sire line was killed.

Bennard was right in a way you suppose. You didn’t care for him or his sons, but they were an extension of you, so it did hurt. It hurt when Bennard died, it hurt when Benjen had his heart ripped out, it hurt when Brandon was decapitated, and it hurt when Elric was staked. It never hurts any less.

You sat up stretching. You looked down at the hole in the dress. Shame how pretty blue it was. You ran out of the keep but stopped as you looked to the right before you were about to jump off the wall into the wilderness of the forest.

A funeral. You tilted your head. You never had one of those before. At least not in your honor. How sweet.

A small scoff escaped your lips looking over the people. An ivory fur that lined a grey cloak caught your eye. You smiled. It was your skin. Your skin sat atop Cregan’s shoulder who now looked more like a man that you seemed to recall.

Even if you suppose. That was your life. That was twice now. Twice you had given him your life.

…

Stark blood was good, but Targeyen far out classed it.

“The North has allied itself with Rhaenrya.” Aemond spoke as he stood letting you button his shift as you pressed kissed along his shoulder occasionally nipping at the skin and sucking any blood that escaped.

“So?” You asked bored brushing his hair.

“Can you compel the Stark?” Aemond asked exasperated.

You lifted a brow feeling the shift under your skin as your eyes sharpened. “What do you think?”

Note: I expected the ending to be better, so sorry.

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