The Original Wife (Klaus Mikaelson)

The One With The Kiss

As we unlocked the door and stepped inside, the sound of blaring music greeted our ears. Katarina sat on the couch, a bottle of bourbon before her.

"Would you mind turning this down?" I asked, feeling a wave of annoyance at the raucous noise. I couldn't stand the music of this century; it was simply dreadful.

"Why so grumpy?" Katarina questioned, causing me to roll my eyes and turn to Klaus.

"What shall we do next, my dear?" I inquired, seeking his guidance.

"This body has served its purpose," Klaus stated, his tone resolute.

Katarina, undeterred, offered, "Do you want a drink?"

"No, Katarina... I don't want a drink," Klaus replied firmly, dismissing her suggestion.

"Oh, come on. It might help you loosen up," she persisted, stepping closer to him.

"Back away from my husband," I compelled her, asserting my authority. I swiftly snatched the bottle from her hands and shattered it, sending a clear message.

Startled, Katarina retreated, returning to the sofa and resuming her seat. Moments later, the door swung open, and Maddox entered.

"Maddox, what took you so long?" Klaus inquired, curious about the delay.

"You had quite a bit of luggage," Maddox shrugged, gesturing to a group of men who followed him, each burdened with bags. Among them was a young and stunning woman.

"Hello, Greta," Klaus greeted her warmly, a smile gracing his face.

"Hello, my loves," Greta greeted me with a hug. "It's been a while, Thea." Her smile widened as she turned her attention to Klaus. "Nice body. Are you ready to depart from it?"

Klaus merely smiled, his gaze shifting toward the coffin that had just been delivered to us.

--

I took a seat beside Katarina, my anticipation growing as I watched the two witches begin their chanting. I longed for my husband to be restored to his true form. I yearned for his kisses, our passionate encounters, and simply his presence, even though he had been with me all along in Alaric's body.

Klaus sat in the center of the candle-lit circle, still inhabiting Alaric's vessel. As the candles flickered and burned brighter, it became evident that the transformation was taking place. Alaric's essence faded away, and Klaus emerged in his own body once again. Alaric turned his gaze towards Katarina, questioning, "Elena?"

But before he could receive an answer, he collapsed to the ground. I hurriedly rose to my feet and approached the coffin. With a sense of both relief and excitement, I opened it and was met with the sight of my beloved husband, now in his rightful form.

He stepped out of the coffin, a smirk gracing his lips as he surveyed his surroundings. "Well... this is more like it," he commented, his eyes locking onto mine.

"Hello, love," Klaus greeted me, his hand reaching for mine as he pulled me into a passionate embrace. In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of joy and relief. "I missed you, Nik," I whispered softly, holding him tightly in my arms.

----------

As we entered the dimly lit Mystic Grill, a wave of unpleasant odors filled the air, but it didn't seem to deter the patrons who seemed to enjoy the place nonetheless. The small bar was bustling with activity, the sounds of conversations and clinking glasses mingling with the faint music playing in the background.

Nik, holding my hand, guided me through the crowd until we spotted Alaric and Damon Salvatore sitting together at the bar, their expressions weighed down by gloom. With a mischievous smile, my husband approached them, leaning casually on the bar while I took a seat beside him.

"Gentlemen, why so glum?" Nik's voice carried a hint of amusement as he addressed Alaric and Damon, both of whom looked up in surprise.

"Klaus, I presume," Alaric acknowledged, his tone a mixture of resignation and acknowledgement.

"In the flesh," Nik chuckled, his gaze shifting to Damon. "Thanks for the loaner, mate."

Damon's eyes locked with mine as recognition flickered across his face. "We've met before," he muttered, his voice laced with a hint of curiosity.

"Oh, I believe you've had the pleasure of meeting my wife, Althea," Nik introduced me, wrapping an arm around my side in a display of possessiveness.

"Wife?" Damon's anger simmered as he stood up, his voice tinged with irritation. "Any reason the two of you stopped by to say hi?"

A laughter bubbled up within me, infectious and irrepressible, and Nik joined in. "I'm told you and your brother have quite the fascination with my doppelgänger," Nik stated calmly, his gaze fixed on Damon. "Just thought I'd remind you not to do anything you'll regret."

Damon smirked sardonically, seemingly undeterred by the warning. "Ha. Thanks for the advice. I don't suppose I could talk you into a postponement, by any chance, huh?" His words dripped with sarcasm, but his plea fell on deaf ears.

I couldn't contain my amusement, continuing to laugh as I turned to Alaric. "He's kidding, right?" I asked, still wearing a wide smile.

Alaric's response was less humorous. "Not really," he admitted, a touch of resignation in his voice.

Undeterred, Damon persisted in his attempt to sway us. "I mean, come on, what's one month in the whole grand scheme of things?"

Nik's patience reached its limit, his voice turning stern and resolute. "Let me be clear... I have my vampire. I have my werewolf. I have everything I need. The ritual will happen tonight. So if you want to live to see tomorrow, don't screw it up."

With our point made, Nik and I exchanged one last glance before leaving the Mystic Grill, leaving behind an intrigued and somewhat apprehensive Alaric and Damon.