𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑶𝑿𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑫 - 𝘯𝘪𝘬𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘴 𝘮𝘪𝘬𝘢𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘰𝘯

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ fᴏʀᴛʏ ɴɪɴᴇ

                                              ➳

They say the passage of time will heal all wounds, but the greater the loss, the deeper the cut, and the more difficult the process to become whole again. The pain may fade, but scars serve as a reminder of our suffering, and make the bearer all the more resolved never to be wounded again. So, as time moves along, we get lost in distractions. Act out in frustration, react with aggression, give in to anger. And, all the while we plot and plan as we wait to grow stronger, and before we know it, the time passes. We are healed. Ready to begin anew.

- One Month Later -

Lunar feels her body slam back against the wall, Klaus' lips against hers. She finds herself smiling as she kisses him, her hands roaming freely under his shirt and up his spine.

"Miss me, did you? When you were out plotting your revenge?" Lunar pulls away for a moment, looking him in the eye.

He smiles, it's impossibly devilish and Lunar finds herself melting into him. "It's just not the same without you by my side out there, causing havoc." He tells her, before planting kisses along her chest, sneakily down to her breasts.

She leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes as a small moan escapes her lips. "Truth be told, I miss the torture. I'm on standby whenever you need me." She whispers.

"Enough talking, love." He says, lifting her top from her body. She smiles, tearing Klaus' shirt from his body before letting him guide her to the bed.

Later

Lunar is sprawled on the couch in Klaus' painting room, a book in hand. She's half reading and half watching him paint, admiring how he concentrates, the way he puts his ideas to the canvas.

She recalls the night they met, him telling her about his paintings. Painting is a method for control. Art taught me that one's vision can be achieved by sheer force of will. Lunar thinks about these words now as her eyes fall onto Klaus' painting. She wonders, what it is that he is planning.

He turns, hearing footsteps entering the room. "Niklaus, it's been a month." Elijah says, Lunar puts her book down and looks at him. "Now, I feel our sister's loss as deeply as you. But, you must stop distracting yourself with this ridiculous behaviour and channel it into some kind of action."

"Ridiculous behaviour?" Lunar frowns. She knows Elijah is talking about her and Klaus' sex life definitely becoming far more passionate in the last four weeks, not to mention more consistent. She cannot, though, for the life of her see the problem. "Let us have some fun." She rolls her eyes.

"Why must I, exactly?" Klaus asks, not even looking away from his painting for a moment.

"Because over the course of Marcel's tenure, the city grew accustomed to having a king. You wanted this throne. Now, you must accept the responsibility that accompanies it." Elijah continues, ignoring Lunar.

"Apologies, but I'm rather ensconced in other pursuits." Klaus tells him, and Lunar finds herself laughing a little.

Elijah moves to Klaus, taking the paintbrush out of his hands now and forcing him to pay attention. "If you can so easily neglect your home, I wonder what will become of your daughter." Elijah glances quickly at Lunar, to him, they both seem so petty and childish.

"Have you forgotten what it was like to live beneath the threat of violence? We must work together, Niklaus. Let's make this city whole again." Elijah tries to get through to him, to Lunar.

"Perhaps it's too broken to mend." Klaus shoots back, snatching the paintbrush back from his brother.

"If you won't do anything, I will." Elijah tells them both, leaving. Lunar rolls her eyes.