Empty Crown ⚜ Klaus Mikaelson

3. 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙒𝙤𝙤𝙙𝙨

"You have to paint all of the lilies white! Who's ever heard of a green lily? It's not even a lily!" Iris Fell gazed at the living room wall in sheer horror.

Imelda smeared paint on her cheek. "I'm not a painter! I'm a sketch artist, you loser!" Drawing the artwork was the easy part, painting everything in was proving to be where the twins fell apart, no pun intended.

"That's not the point." Iris rolled her eyes. "When have you ever seen a green lily?" She tapped her foot, her arms folded against her chest as blue eyes peered into hazel.

Imelda jerked her thumb to the drying paint. "Now, and there."

She received a painful slap to the side of her head and the new task of re-painting. With her head aching and a scowl adorning her lips, she ignored the doorbell ringing. If she had to re-paint, Iris could do everything else.

"Imelda! Get the door!" Iris shouted, her voice echoing from the kitchen where the scent of cookies wafted from.

"I'm re-doing your stupid lilies!" Imelda called back.

She loved snickerdoodles but she'd let them burn to get under her sister's skin. With a satisfied smirk she watched Iris stomp past her and answer the front door. Glancing to the left, Imelda grinned.

"Sup, Salvatore." Imelda greeted a smiling Stefan. "Care to help paint?"

Stefan smiled. "I'm not an artist, but I'd rather paint than do chemistry."

"Hopeless. The pair of you are hopeless." Iris threw her hands in the air. "Stefan, please do not let her paint the lilies anything other than white!"

"I'll paint them rainbow if you keep it up!" Imelda threatened. Iris gasped and Stefan pondered over a rainbow lily.

Imelda stood in front of the Salvatore Boarding home.

Memories swirled inside her head. It made her dizzy but she had somehow managed to make it through the night and into the next morning. She couldn't recall if she slept or if she had eaten anything. All she really knew was she clutched onto a shoe box and had no clue how to feel.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Imelda climbed the steps with heavy feet. The act of breathing left her breathless but no tears fell. Her heart hammed against her chest and her arm felt like a lead pipe as she knocked on the front door.

"Damon?" Imelda called. She knocked again, louder and more desperate. "Damon!" She screamed. The door was wrenched open with such force the wood creaked.

"What do you want?" Damon spat, his eyes dark and haunting. His anger simmered as he saw the horrible state Imelda Fell was in.

Imelda's body trembled but she remained standing. "Stefan." Her voice was scratchy, the effort it took to keep from sobbing was taking its toll on her.

"What did he do?" Damon breathed. He had seen the dead bodies, he was used to it. He never saw the aftermath, the victims his brother left behind. He never thought about it and he wished he wasn't forced to think about it now.

Imelda held the shoe box in between them. The weight was like a ton of bricks pulling her down. It was lifted as Damon took the box and opened it. She saw the emotions flicker in his eyes. She saw the hatred and grief, anger and confusion. She saw what she was beginning to feel.