Centuries // [klaus mikaelson]

April 1835

1835, New Orleans.

"Please, Klaus. Undagger her." I beg, not wanting to have to go through years of Rebekah not being around.

"I will not undagger her, Violetta, and that is final. Marcel made a move on her and I will not allow it." He says sternly. "Let me take your dress off for you, if we're going to argue, you might as well be able to breathe properly." He unties my dress with incredible speed and I thank him and change into my nightgown.

"What if we just tell her to leave. That she has to get away from Marcel."

"Always and forever, my love, that's why. I can't banish her, she'd be heartbroken. The coffin is the better alternative."

"Whatever you say, Niklaus, but she's my best friend. Someone I could rely on. Not that I can't rely on you." I roll my eyes as a look of offense takes over his face. "I can rely on her for advice about you, she knows what you like, and despite being with you for seven hundred and forty three years, I never know if you're going to like the presents I give you. This has gone off track. I just- Niklaus, she's my sister and I'll miss her if you keep her daggered."

"Like I won't miss her as well, Violetta? She's my sister. My blood. It pained me to put her in that coffin. Who knows how long I'll keep her in there as well." He says, and gets into bed. "Come here."

"I'm angry with you." I say, but get into bed anyways, snuggling up to his side.

"I know you are, my love." He kisses my head. "By the way, any present you could give me, will be treasured forever. I have things you gave me seven hundred years ago and I will have them for another seven hundred. They could be disintegrating and I would put the tiny bits in a jar for safe keeping."

"What do you still have?" I furrow my eyebrows. He has never told me about keeping my presents to him. He gets up and sprints to the closet, returning with a box.

"I have this necklace, I don't wear it, because you said it was Harold's, and his mother gave it to you, but you gave it to me, for safe keeping, so if you want that, you can have it." He carefully lays it on the bed, and my eyes well up with tears. I completely forgot about that. "This letter you wrote for me when we went to Paris and you lost your voice from excitedly shouting too much." He holds it with the tips of his fingers and puts it down. "It's very fragile. I might preserve it in between some glass." He mumbles. "From one of the first nights here in New Orleans, where you and Rebekah got completely and utterly out of your minds intoxicated and you handed me a can of baked beans, telling me that you loved me. I thought it was funny so I kept them." I roll my eyes at the old can of beans. "This painting you did of me." He goes into the closet and takes out a poorly done portrait that he keeps behind his clothes, where only he would see it.

"Oh no." I groan, remembering the time he got me drunk and asked me to paint with him.

"It's my favorite painting ever." He smiles, and packs everything away. "We should sleep. We had a long day and I promised Marcel I would fence with him tomorrow."

"He asked me to fence as well." I say, as he gets back in bed.

"Did you say yes? He's quite good. You are as well."

"I'm awful and you know it, Klaus." I laugh.

"You have a nickname for me, but I don't have one for you."

"A lot of people call you Klaus."

"Well, you also call me Nik, only you and Rebekah do that." He lays down. "Letta? Do you like that? Never mind. I don't like that. Bekah calls you Vio. I quite like that, but I want something different. V?" He looks down at me, but I'm not paying attention. I'm just watching him speak. "Did you pay attention to any of that?"

"No." I kiss his bare chest. "What did you say?"

"V. For a nickname."

"I don't know. Maybe it'll grow on me." I close my eyes. "My father called me Rose. It was what he wanted to name me, but my mother wanted Violetta, so it would be nice to be called Rose again." I say, half asleep.

"Rose. I like it." He says and kisses my forehead. "Goodnight my love."

"Night." I mumble, before falling asleep.