Chapter 14: The Klaus Problem
I was practicing blood manipulation when he arrived.
Two weeks of training had pushed my control to maybe thirty percent. I could form weapons now—crude, unstable, but functional. A blade from a cut on my palm, hardened to steel consistency, lasting maybe five minutes before dissolving.
Progress. Slow, frustrating progress.
The blood blade was hovering between my hands when I felt him.
Klaus.
The hybrid signature slammed into my awareness like a freight train. Stronger than Elijah's, more chaotic, burning with barely contained violence. He was close. Getting closer.
Shit.
I dissolved the blood blade, let it drip onto the floor. Grabbed a shirt from the crate and pulled it on just as footsteps echoed on the stairs.
Elijah appeared first. His expression was tight, apologetic. Behind him, moving with predatory grace, came Klaus Mikaelson.
He looked exactly like the show. Exactly. Blond curls slightly disheveled. Sharp features that would be handsome if they weren't arranged in an expression of dangerous curiosity. Eyes that cataloged everything—my posture, the warehouse, the blood on the floor—in seconds.
And the power radiating off him was immense.
"So this is what you've been hiding," Klaus said, voice like silk over broken glass. British accent wrapping around each word with theatrical precision. "An ancient vampire befriending my brother. How delightfully suspicious."
I stood slowly. Carefully. Every instinct screaming at me to run or attack, adrenaline flooding my system despite not needing it.
This is Klaus. Your favorite character. Also capable of tearing you apart.
"Klaus," I said. Tried for neutral, landed somewhere near wary.
"You know my name. How lovely. Care to share yours?"
"Roy Stark."
"Roy Stark." He circled me like a shark. "Never heard of you. And I know every Old One, every ancient vampire worth knowing. Which means either you're very good at hiding, or you're lying about your age."
"I'm good at hiding."
"Clearly." He stopped directly in front of me, close enough that I could see the gold flecks in his eyes. Hybrid eyes. Like mine when I shifted. "Elijah says you're older than us. That you've been... used. By our parents." His voice hardened. "I say that's convenient fiction designed to gain sympathy."
"Believe what you want."
"Oh, I intend to. But first—" He moved faster than I could track, hand shooting out to grab my throat.
I reacted on instinct. Compulsion rolled out, slamming into him through the bloodline connection.
"Tell me your real name."
Klaus's mouth opened against his will. "Niklaus."
Horror dawned on his face as he realized what was happening. His hand loosened on my throat, dropped to his side, but he couldn't stop the word from coming out. Couldn't stop his body from obeying while his mind screamed.
I released him immediately.
Klaus stumbled back, breathing hard, eyes wide with shock and rage. "What the hell was that?"
"Proof. I can compel Originals. You stay conscious—aware you're being controlled but unable to stop it. I'm sorry for the demonstration, but you were about to choke me."
"You—" He lunged forward. Elijah caught his arm.
"Brother, please. Listen to what he has to say."
"He just puppeted me!"
"And released you immediately. If he wanted to harm you, he could have commanded far worse." Elijah's voice was calm, diplomatic. "Roy. Explain. Quickly, before Klaus decides violence is preferable to conversation."
I took a breath. "Your parents imprisoned me to create you. They drained my blood for years, used it to fuel the immortality spell that made you into Originals. When you broke your hybrid curse, it awakened mine—because your mother used my blood. We're both hybrids because I was the source."
Klaus stared at me. Then at Elijah. "Is he serious?"
"I verified his claims. Mother's grimoires document everything."
"That's not—" Klaus's voice cracked. "That's not possible."
"Watch."
I let my eyes shift. Gold flooding over brown, wolf instinct rising just beneath the surface. My canines elongated, not quite fangs but close. The territorial rage that came with the hybrid nature surged, and I forced it back down through sheer will.
Klaus's expression transformed. Shock became recognition became fascination.
"You're like me," he whispered.
"Not by choice. When you broke your curse a few months ago, the bloodline connection triggered my transformation. I've been trying to control it ever since."
"But how? Mother said she created the hybrid curse specifically for me, that I was unique—"
"She lied. Shocker." I shifted my eyes back to human. "Your curse was punishment. Mine was dormant potential. She used my blood to give you immortality, and that blood carried werewolf DNA she didn't fully understand. When she made you into a hybrid, she was actually unlocking what I already had."
Klaus looked like I'd ripped his world in half. Which, fair. I'd just told him his entire origin story was based on torture his mother had committed.
"This doesn't make sense," he said finally. "If you're that powerful, why hide? Why befriend Elijah instead of announcing yourself?"
"Because I'm weak. Maybe fifty-five percent of what I should be. A millennium of starvation and imprisonment did damage that takes time to heal." I met his eyes. "And because I wasn't sure if you'd try to kill me for existing or use me as a weapon. Neither option appealed to me."
"Smart." Klaus's rage was fading, replaced by calculation. "What do you want?"
"To recover. To master my abilities. To eventually make your parents pay for what they did."
"Mother's already dead."
"Esther? She's—" I stopped. Right. In the original timeline, Esther died and came back multiple times. Currently, she was dead. "Good. That's one problem solved."
"And Mikael?"
"Still planning how to make him suffer. Open to suggestions."
Klaus laughed. Actually laughed, sharp and surprised. "I like you. Against my better judgment, I actually like you." He turned to Elijah. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Because you would have reacted exactly as you did—with violence first, questions second. Roy needed time to recover before facing you."
"And now?"
"Now we're having a conversation instead of a bloodbath. Progress."
Klaus paced. Three steps one way, three steps back. His mind was working, I could see it—calculating threat level, potential uses, whether I was ally or enemy.
"This conversation isn't over," he said finally. "You and I are going to have a very long talk about our shared nature, what you can do, and what you want. But not today. Today I need to process the fact that my entire existence is built on torture my mother committed." He walked toward the stairs. "Elijah. Come. Now."
Elijah gave me an apologetic look and followed.
I heard them arguing as they left the warehouse. Klaus's voice rising, Elijah's staying calm, the sound fading as they moved toward wherever they'd parked.
Then silence.
I collapsed onto the nearest crate, adrenaline crash hitting hard.
That was Klaus. I just met Klaus.
Not the character from TV. The real Klaus. Paranoid, violent, brilliant, tragic Klaus who'd just learned his origin was even more fucked up than he'd thought.
And instead of killing me, he'd said he liked me.
My hands were shaking. I clasped them together, forced them still.
The chess game had just become infinitely more complicated. Klaus knew I existed. Knew I could control him. Knew we shared hybrid nature.
He could decide I was an asset and try to use me. Or decide I was a threat and try to eliminate me. Or—and this was the scariest option—decide he wanted to understand me.
Because Klaus didn't do half-measures. If he decided we were similar, that I understood what it meant to be hybrid and hated, he'd latch on. And getting close to Klaus Mikaelson was like befriending a tornado.
Exciting. Destructive. Likely to end badly.
But he's alive. He's real. And he didn't kill me.
I started laughing. Couldn't help it. The absurdity of the situation—me, ancient vampire who'd survived a millennium of torture, terrified of meeting a character I used to watch on TV—was too much.
The laughter turned slightly hysterical before I forced it down.
Okay. Klaus knew about me. Elijah was my ally. Davina was teaching me magic. Marcel was wary but not hostile.
I could work with this. Just had to keep everyone from killing each other long enough to figure out my next move.
Simple. Easy. Not at all a recipe for disaster.
You're so screwed.
Yeah. Probably.
But at least it wasn't boring.
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