Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise. - Lana Del Rey.
In which a witch of legend and Niklaus Mikaelson's true love is awoken from a thousand year slumber.
Ellika Mikaelson has been asleep for over a thousand years, cursed to remain...
Once again, Ellika awoke incased in Niklaus's warmth. Her head was resting against his chest, his arms wrapping around her. He was awake, and had been for a while, choosing simply to watch her sleep rather than move and risk waking her up. "One day, I'm going to paint you like this," he promised, his voice rich and gravellier than usual, still raw from sleep.
Ellika turned to look at her husband, her dark hair framing her face perfectly as she looked up at him. "You still paint?" She asked, slightly surprised.
"Yes," he chuckled, leaning down to capture her lips with his.
Art had always been something Nik hid when he was a boy, always afraid his father would stumble upon his sketches and punish him for it. He knew he would think of him as weak. Ellika, however, always loved it when he drew. Many an evening was spent in a meadow or forest near their village, Ellika reading in the grass, her head lying on Nik's lap, as he painted the scene before them.
Truth be told, Ellika was one of the main reasons he continued to draw and paint; he became obsessed with sketching her face, using the memories they had shared together to quite literally paint a picture of what a future for them could look like.
"I'd like that," she murmured "For you to paint me. Maybe not like this," she looked down at what she was wearing.
"Oh I don't know," Niklaus replied, sitting up to get a better view of her, "I quite like you like this."
She blushed, but sat up too, facing him. "We should get up," she said, although neither of them moved. Klaus's face dropped when he remembered what he had to do today; Sophie better hope she can come up with a good excuse for letting Ellika get hurt if she wanted to ever see her family again.
He sighed, and left the bed, going over to a wardrobe and taking some clothes out, and changing into them with his vampire speed. "It's not fair you can do that," grumbled Ellika, still on the bed. Niklaus chuckled again, again going over to the wardrobe, this time to find some clothes for his wife. He placed them on the end of the bed and said, "Here," before kissing her forehead gently, his hand stroking the back of her head, "I'll meet you downstairs, my love."
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"What the bloody hell is the harvest?" Rebekah questioned, confusion clear in her tone. She was sat on the sofa in the living room of their house, Niklaus next to her with Ellika leaning against his side. Sophie Devereaux sat opposite them, trying to explain how Ellika had been attacked while the witches were supposed to be protecting her. Sophie claimed it was a faction of extremists, but Rebekah wasn't so sure she was telling the whole truth. Now, having heard that Davina and Elijah were talking, Sophie had decided to explain the real mess that the witches had gotten themselves into. Namely, their failed attempt at the harvest.
"It's a ritual our coven does every three centuries so that the bond to our ancestral magic is restored. We appease our ancestors, and they keep our ancestral power flowing." Sophie explained, although the three Mikaelsons sat before her still looked slightly lost.
