Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
·° 。: ✰ : ·° 。
HER SIBLINGS HAD, in their own way,accepted her. For one, she now lived in the mansion, in a room that belonged solely to her. Freya welcomed the change with open arms, more than happy with what some considered to be a simple thing.
Klaus was never in the same room with her, Kol didn't even acknowledge her presence, and Elijah was civil and generous. Out of all of them, Rebekah had been the kindest and open.
The blonde was considerate and gentle, teaching her the modern ways of the world. She was patient and did her best to make Freya feel at home. When she first moved in, Rebekah insisted on helping her decorate and furnish her bedroom.
But there was a sadness under the surface.
It was a misery palpable in the quietude of the mansion, one that affected each and every single one of them. It was always quiet in the halls, not the slightest bit of chatter, void even of laughter or light-hearted chuckles.
There was nothing light-hearted about the atmosphere.
The paintings on the wall and the furnitures had enough color to fill in a kaleidoscope, and yet it was a series of the darkest of black and greyscales that met whoever entered. It created an embodiment of grief and mourning that made Freya tentative to even speak of her name.
The eldest Mikaelson never had the pleasure of meeting the enigma that is Rosalie Monet, which meant that she barely knew her apart from her close relationships to her siblings. She knew that she had been a lover of Niklaus, and a dear friend to Elijah, Kol, and Rebekah. She knew of her Divinity from Dahlia.
But aside from that information, Freya couldn't place a personality on the pale-faced beauty she had caught a glimpse of.
The blonde did her best to help by providing information, which wasn't exactly received with open arms. Since then, Freya stayed out of everyone's way, mostly reading or practicing simple spells to test her skills.
She was tempted to go outside and explore, but it probably wouldn't be a good decision given that she didn't know the streets well. Besides, Kol would probably find a way to accuse her of conspiring against them.
The thought of asking Rebekah to accompany her filled her with guilt, given how lifeless and miserable she was most of the time, something she didn't hide as well as she thought she did.
And so, Freya was left to her own devices, at a reasonable distance from the people that was now her family.
Which was exactly why it was surprising to witness Niklaus Mikaelson enter the room.
He looked rugged and tired in a way that was supposed to be impossible for an immortal. Exhausted pools of blue, dark cresent under eyes, overgrown stubble covering cheeks, unruly blond hairㅡall pieced together created the portrait of a soulless man. Freya frowned, suddenly worried given his distressed state. "When was the last time you ateㅡ?"
