Dark Moon | Klaus Mikaelson

Chapter 52

Cami was the one who encouraged Esmeray to go see Klaus.

"Please," the blonde said once the hybrid was getting ready to return to the Bayou. "I don't know what happened between the two of you, but he wants to talk about it. He's worried about you."

Esmeray was not in the mood to respond kindly. She wanted to say, "Why don't you just stop making recommendations about what we should do? We never asked for a couples therapist, so stay out of it." And she wanted to say, "Yeah, you're right, you don't know what happened— keep your mouth shut."

Instead, she said, "Okay," very simply, and with a small smile on her face. "By the way, you should probably get your uncle to leave New Orleans. He won't be safe here. It's better if he tries to set up a church somewhere else. Until the inhabitants of this city calm down, he'll continue to get hurt."

Cami had nodded, and Esmeray had left, deciding that she wanted to walk around a bit before she made it to the Compound. She was on high alert this time, keeping her eyes closed at random moments to try and listen for any dangers that she might be blind to.

But when no one attacked her, she returned to the Compound, finding it surprisingly empty. Usually, there were vampires lounging in the courtyard. Now, only Elijah was there, tidying up.

"Where did everyone go?" asked Esmeray quietly.

"I sent the vampires away," said Elijah simply. "Marcellus has been exiled. Rebekah and Niklaus have come to an agreement regarding her leaving and not returning. She told me to thank you for what you did. She worried coming to you in person would lead Niklaus to change his mind about being so lenient with her."

"Oh," was all she replied with, blinking a few times. "Well, then..." she cleared her throat. "I'm going to go upstairs."

Elijah shot her a look as if asking her if she would be speaking with Klaus. Esmeray nodded before heading up the stairs.

He was in his art room, painting angrily. The canvas in front of him was being splattered with random colors. She didn't know if he was actually trying to create something, or if he was coping by practicing abstract art.

Klaus sensed she was there, and ceased the movement of the brush, but did not turn to face her. He didn't want to be the first one to speak.

"Hi," she said, tucking her hands together. "May I come in?"

Rather than joke that she wasn't a vampire and didn't need an invitation to move around her own house, Klaus merely nodded. She came to stand beside him as he started to paint again.

"Judging by your silence," she murmured when several minutes of silence passed, "you'd rather not speak until I give you approval to." She sank into the seat beside him, looking at her feet. "I just don't want to say it. I'd rather you look into my mind and see for yourself."

Klaus stopped painting again. He set his utensils down and sat across from her, looking into her eyes and holding his hand out to her. She took it slowly, closing her eyes and concentrating on the memories she wanted him to see.

When she opened her eyes again, a slow tear was running down his face. "Why are you crying?" she asked carefully.

"Because I haven't done a good enough job of showing you how much you mean to me, love," he said, coming to kneel down in front of her. "That witch is nothing to me. She attempted to seduce me, and I did not let her. According to her, she fancied me in the 1900s, but I assure you, even then, I never paid her any heed. As for Camille— I only wished to help her find out what truly happened with her brother. If there's anyone she fancies, it's Marcel, which Rebekah would not have been happy to hear." He cupped her face. "You, Esmeray, are the one that I want. Not them. Not anyone else. That witch Celeste was only trying to hurt you with her words."