[ CHAPTER SIXTEEN ]

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1002, southern france

When Esther had invited herself and Niklaus round to share a toast to the life of little Henrik, Astrid had been too grief-stricken to realise Esther's true intentions before it was too little, too late

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When Esther had invited herself and Niklaus round to share a toast to the life of little Henrik, Astrid had been too grief-stricken to realise Esther's true intentions before it was too little, too late.

At first Astrid hadn't noticed how bitter the wine laced with Tatia's blood had tasted on her tongue, nor had she identified Esther's rather strange and somewhat cold behaviour.

The first thing Astrid had noticed was Mikael unapologetically, and rather swiftly, shoving his freshly sharpened sword through her chest.

He had expressed no apparent regret as she had collapsed to the floor, eyes wide and hands frantically moving hopelessly to try covering the large, gaping wound by her heart.

Her vision had swiftly faded a gravely black, her chest uncomfortably sticky and aching, with the sound of angered and bemused yelling the last thing she heard as a human.

Part of her had hoped that it would be her final moments, that she would meet her beloved son and her mother on the other side, but that hadn't been what Esther and Mikael had been planning.

Esther's spell and the doppelganger blood she had laced within the wine had turned them into beasts- monsters even.

They had an insatiable thirst for human blood, their strength and speed excelled that of wolf mans and they were soon told that they would be immortal, to live forever without fearing the wolves who had murdered Henrik.

Esther's plan had been hopeful, she had been optimistic.

It hadn't been till the bodies of the villagers she had once called friends were beginning to pile up, Esther realized the dire mistake she had made upon inventing such a dark spell.

Though now Esther was no longer around to fix her mistakes, but Mikael was.

They had crossed oceans in a bid to escape her estranged father-in-law, but Mikael was showing no signs of giving up on ridding the world of his and Esther's demonic mistakes.

Running her hands through the icy water of the fresh spring stream, Astrid watched as the water turned a startling pink, blood flaking away and drifting down stream.

With no sound releasing from her crimson stained lips, Astrid tentatively placed the strip of fabric beneath the surface of the body of water, before lifting and ringing it out, using the damp material to wipe the blood from her lips and chin.

Much to her dismay, it had been a messy feed.

The desire for fresh blood from the carotid artery had overtaken the little control she possessed over her blood lust.

Though fortunately, she hadn't gotten any blood on her dress this time, unlike Rebekah, who had complained stroppily about ruining yet another dress.

𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄, klaus mikaelsonWhere stories live. Discover now