I'LL REMEMBER APRIL // KLAUS MIKAELSON

ROYAL GARDEN BLUES

Her eyes fluttered open slowly but surely. She was surrounded by softness, silky sheets and firm and steady pillows behind her. The scent of vanilla in the air, when she turned her head she spotted the flickering candle she kept by her bed on the nightstand. But this wasn't her bed.

"You're awake." She gasped loudly as Klaus's voice seemed to come out of nowhere, he stood in the door opening, leaning on the frame.

"Where am I?"

"You're in my bed." A blush rose to her cheeks, Klaus smirked at it.

A realization shot to mind, "Vincent.." Klaus uncrossed his arms and stepped further into the room, then he sat down on the end of his bed.

"Also known as Finn. My completely annoying and dull as a doorknob eldest brother."

"Ugh, I hate the Mikaelsons."

"Oi! A Mikaelson did come to save you." Odette smiled as he did. It was his sweet, vulnerable smile, the one he saved for her.

"Why am I here?" she wondered out loud as she felt around the bed that so obviously wasn't hers. If she looked through the small slit in the curtains she could almost see her own bedroom.

"I needed someone to keep an eye on you and Elijah, but I couldn't really grant anyone else access to your house. This was the best option."

Odette frowned, "Elijah.."

He immediately interrupted her worries, "he's alive. He's been in a magical, witchy coma for the past day but I am sure he will awaken."

Only now did Odette notice the blood spatters on Klaus's chest, the way his lips turned down as soon as she wasn't looking.

"What happened, Nik?"

He sighed loudly, Odette could almost hear his heart crack in two. It was a familiar sigh, one of utter defeat that she had exhaled, too.

"I spent the day with my father. My real father."

Odette sat up, bunched a few pillows behind her back and pushed through the stinging pain in her brain. Like everything was way too swollen to fit.

"Esther brought him back from the dead, believing he could convince me to renounce vampirism." Klaus messed around in the pocket of his jacket before he pulled out a small, leather bound notebook. Odette felt extreme heat, an unending fever. But the tiny glimmer of a tear in Klaus's eyes kept her on her feet.

"The thought of what I could be, had I been raised by him. Had I been nurtured. This was his." He handed her the notebook with expecting hands, gentle fingers that were scared to let go of it. Odette took it, brushed a comforting knuckle against his. She opened it, inside was a sketch of a boy. It was undoubtable, it was him. The nose was still the same, and his jawline, though it had gotten a bit sharper, immediately reminded her of him. She caressed the drawing with her eyes, its easy grey strokes and the feeling of loneliness it gave her. How he must have drawn it from a distance, looking at the child he had created as he howled under the moon.

"He knew about Hope." Odette frowned, the notebook slipped from her hands and onto the white duvet. A feeling overwhelmed her. A feeling that only arrived because she knew him so very well, a feeling that she associated with the name of his daughter.

He was dangerous, Niklaus Mikaelson was dangerous and downright volatile and sometimes violent. And he was extreme, he always went too far, he never knew where to stop or where to begin or where to say goodbye.

Most of all, he was mistrusting. Something that his father had created and that his biological father was partly responsible for. Niklaus trusted no one, not when it came to the life of his daughter.