Eternal ➳ N. Mikaelson [COMPLETED]

➳ 19: american gothic-pictures of you

INGRID and Klaus rushed into the mansion, she was supporting him by the shoulders as they stumbled through the threshold. Klaus clentched his jaw and growled in pain, glaring at nothing in particular. "Ingrid, hold on." He gasped out in, trying to throw himself down on the group. "I just... I need a second."

"No." She snapped, shaking her head and carrying him toward the den. "My apologies, darling but there is no time." She set him down on the marble floor and sped out of the room to grab a series of tools.

Klaus began feverishly trying to get the piece of white oak stake out of his back. He was scratching his own flesh off, leaving the wound on his back a bloody mess. Ingrid walked back into the room, empty handed. She rushed toward him, attempting to stop him from digging at his own skin. "Niklaus, stop!" She then reached for his face, stroking it soothingly with the pad of her thumb. When she spoke, she didn't sound like her usual self. "Hey. As much as I would love to watch you die, you still haven't found me that cure."

"Silas!" Klaus snarled and pushed the imposter of his wife away from him, falling to the floor weakly.

"That's right. Last night I looked like Shane, today I look like Ingrid, and tomorrow-who knows?" Silas rhetorically questioned with a proud smirk.

Klaus glared over at him and sneered through gritted teeth. "Show me your real face."

"Now why would I do that when I can look like whomever I want you to see?" Silas asked while walking over to the Original and Klaus shuddered in fear. "Resist me all you want, Klaus, but until you bring me the cure I will bring you nothing but misery." Silas disappeared and Klaus relaxed painfully.

Ingrid walked back into the room with a pair of pliers, a metal dish, washcloths, a towel, and a knife. She found Klaus, shirtless, sitting on the floor and leaning on the piano seat. She enters the room. "Okay, Niklaus--"

"I need more time. Stop hounding me!" He screamed at her, enraged, and she glanced at him in confusion.

"I--- what? Niklaus, I don't have the slightest clue what you are talking about." She remarked with furrowed eyebrows and walked further into the room.

Klaus rolled his head to the side and glanced at through narrowed eyes for a moment before realizing that it was actually his wife standing before him. "Ingrid. Is it really you?" He questioned in skepticism and Ingrid looked over at him, surprised. Klaus struggled to pull himself onto the piano seat and leaned back against the piano. "Prove it to me."

"What? How do you want me to prove it to you? Is this one of your jokes? Because, my love, it is not funny." She commented in annoyance and confusion, walking toward the piano and setting the tools down on the cover. "Niklaus, we do not have time for this. I will prove it to you in whatever way you want after we are finished. Now, turn around."

"It's you." Klaus said with a tired smile and let out a loud breath of relief.

"I'm glad you are over your delusions. May I get started?" Ingrid asked him in aggravation and waved the pliers in the air.

Klaus braced himself against the piano while Ingrid walked behind him and placed a hand on his unwounded shoulder in comfort. She then patted his back a few times in a nonverbal warning and began digging the white oak out from his back. Klaus screamed in pain through gritted teeth as she moved the pliers in his back. She dug a little deeper into his back and he yelled in pain, slamming his hand on the piano top.