Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Name: India Eisley as Wren  

Age: 16  

Species: *****

And, every other character as every other actor. As I introduce more OC's along the way, I will attach their character profile.  :)  

Also, none of the photos or gifs are mine. I found them on google images. None of the characters belong to me except my OC. Only the writing is mine. :)

Chapter Text

The asphalt road trailed endlessly onwards. Her gaze remained vacantly on the lush greenery as they drove past in the large yellow coated van with tacky interior decorations collected from the elderly couple's spontaneous road trips to escape the mundanity of their retirement. Wren closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of the sun, a rare moment of tranquillity, undisturbed of her own enduring restless and persecutory internal monologue.   

A gentle breeze escaped from the wedge of the slightly opened window that calmed her and allowed the alleviation of many concerns that perpetually ruminated in her young mind; a constant traffic of what if’s and buts and if only’s.  More recently, her mind was engrossed with the memory of her family, an incessant and unabating reminder of her father who she had left bleeding on the kitchen floor. The broken shards of beer bottles- creatively and impulsively used as a weapon in momentary desperation. The metallic scent of blood still lingered despite the many miles she had put behind her.  

Further reminders of the event were adorned on her in the form of long vivid purple bruises that ran across her legs and arms, intentionally yet clumsily veiled by her clothing. The thin cover of the full sleeve and ankle length fabric did little to shield the injuries. She jerked in pain every time she accidentally touched the hard interior surface of the car. Each accidental contact guaranteed a pulse of discomfort. Occasionally, she’d be imposed to redirect her attention to the two speakers in the front seats of the car.

“Gwen? Honey? you have beautiful hair.” She wore a gentle smile as she reached for the younger girl’s hair, massaging the tips between her fingers before turning to the driver- her husband. “Darryl, don’t you think so? Looks kind of like our Milly’s,” she turned around to the girl without awaiting her husband’s response, “Milly’s our granddaughter, she’s only 7 but she already knows her multiplications,” the old lady boasted enthusiastically. While an energetic and spirited demeanour usually appeared forced on others her age, Wren thought that the kind older lady before her, was exempt from it for she appeared to radiate when she gave a most endearing smile.

Wren forced her confused gaze away to the window to steel her expressions, she was briefly puzzled at the old lady’s use of her alias. “Milly, is it? She sounds adorable. I’ve always wanted a younger sister…a sister to play with, I’d show her everything and…” she smiled, her eyes fell appearing slightly glum and her shoulders dropped a touch.  

“Honey? What’s wrong?” the older lady asked slightly concerned, her honey glazed eyes downcast.

“She passed recently,” Wren looked up to see the older lady’s pitying eyes, before forcing a tight smile, “…my mom. She was really sick and…but besides, now I’m going to be staying with my dad at mystic falls,” the white of her eyes were slightly watery as she looked away for a second to compose herself.

“Oh honey…I’m so sorry,” the corners of her lips drooped as she palmed the younger girls hand giving a firm squeeze of comfort and reassurance. The old man cleared his throat, “awfully light to be moving,” his questioning hazel eyes met hers through the reflection of the mirror. He’d been wary of her, likely suspecting her to be a runaway juvenile by her rugged look.

“Darryl!” the woman admonished her husband over his tone, tapping his shoulder. “Forget about him sweetheart, he’s a grouchy old man,” she smiled at the girl.

“No, its ok,” her blue eyes met his, “my dad had my things sent a few days ago, they should’ve arrived already…I- I just wanted to stay behind a bit longer and say my goodbyes to my mother and grandmother,” the corner of her lips slightly twitched as she struggled to speak clearly. The older man cleared his throat again and looked away in guilt.  

“Sorry about the trouble…and thanks for giving me a lift, I-” she smiled at the older woman, whose eyes had started to tear. 

“Not at all honey, hush” she cut in eagerly, “now, you let us know if you need anything else ok! I mean it,” her hand again palmed the younger ones, who nodded glumly as they continued driving. The older lady chattered on eagerly compensating for her husband’s lack of friendliness.  

“We’ll have to drop you off over there, our turns on the other side,” the greying man spoke softly, his earlier scepticism replaced with guilt and demureness. He nodded to the girl through the reflection, displaying a tight smile. The couple appeared aged, not as one did from the culmination of burdens in life but aged in a serene and wispy way.  

“We can take a U-turn back so let’s drop her a little closer to the town,” the older lady pointed straight, smiling at her husband. Despite her old age, she seemed younger, more youthful, and fuller of life whenever she gazed at the older man across from her. 

“No, it’s alright. I’d enjoy a little walk and it’s not that far from here,” she interrupted, peering out the window. The sun rays caught on the surface of her loose curls, granting her intense obsidian hair and icy blue orbs a softer, more dimmed shine. She had inherited the much-desired features from her late mother along or so she had heard from her father when he was in a drunken stupor, cursing her for her likeness to her mother. There were hardly any photos to remember her mother by in the dark crevice of their house. At times, she felt she was the only proof that her mother had existed at all, her own younger brother seemed to take after her father brown waves and honey eyes.

She focused on the elderly lady and obliged a cheerful smile at a poorly attempted joke. Despite her efforts, she could never feign a real smile, at least, not one that reached her eyes, so she had taken the habit of briefly closing her eyes when she smiled. It seemed to mask the rigidity of her smile, the tight and superficial exposure of her disguise.

“Are you sure, honey?” she pouted slightly at the girls nodding, “Well, then, here,” she ruffled through her flowery handbag, “take a sandwich. I make them myself, don’t want you walking on an empty stomach,” she offered a wrapped sandwich. The girl accepted thankfully, observing the aging lines on the older woman’s hands as they were made apparent through the flexion of her fingers.

“Thanks, looks delicious.” She placed the sandwich into her jacket pocket, not bothering to look at its contents. Instead, her eyes lingered at the bag, its design and vivid colours capturing her attention. 

 “Right then, here we are,” Darryl pulled to the left of the curb and turned to the backseat, “head straight and you’ll hit mystic falls,” the crowfeet visibly evident across his eyes as he shone an endearing smile.

“Thanks again… for everything,” she opened the car door before turning and peering back into the car at the couple. “Oh, no. No trouble at all. Now you be safe young lady. Make sure you follow the road. Honestly, your father should’ve come picked you up, it’s not safe,” she clicked her tongue and shook her head disapprovingly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give him an earful,” she smiled cheekily, earning a similar one from the couple. She closed the car door and said her goodbyes, waving at them. She waited a while watching as they took the turn and drove off into the distance. 

“Well, then, guess I should get going”, she turned to her heels and began walking the direction Darryl had guided her to. ‘let’s see how much I got’ she grinned, sinking her hands into her pocket. She shuffled around and eventually pulled out two wallets, one purple leather wallet with a sunflower design and the other, a brown coarse wallet. ‘$200…hmm not bad…ugh old geezer nearly got me,’ she sighed, thanking her quick thinking as she pulled out the cash and threw the wallets away before returning the cash into her pocket, ‘$200, a sandwich and a free ride, must be my birthday’, she chuckled biting into the sandwich. After what she had guessed had been 30 minutes, she came across a green wooden sign reading ‘Welcome to Mystic falls.’   

“Finally,” she muttered tiredly, the shoes she had stolen were a few sizes too big for her and starting to form blisters on her feet. She walked past different buildings, seeing some local eyes ponder at the strange and ill-groomed girl curiously. She ignored their stares and went into the nearest building that she’d guessed served any semblance of food. The sandwich she’d received prior had done little to satiate her weeklong hunger and journey. 

She entered the Mystic Grills, walking past the many customers to a table furthest from the surrounds of overbearingly loud conversations- typical of a Friday night. She closed her eyes, releasing a deep sigh before being interrupted from a boy in uniform, an employee of the diner.

“Hi, what can I get for you?” he asked, he had not bothered initiating eye contact and immediately pulled out a small note and pen, awaiting her order. He appeared in haste to leave and attend to a flock of new customers that began drawling in. “I’d like…” she hummed aloud in thought, her finger slid across the plastic menu through the different menus before pausing, “Meal set B…with sweet potato chips and a coke thanks.” 

“Yep, and what size will that be?” he asked writing down her order. Wren set down the menu, looking up at him from her seat. He had short blonde hair and baby blue eyes, a distinct difference to her light translucent, almost deathly eyes. He seemed to be of a similar age to her, if not older. ‘Matt’ she saw his name tag.

“Umm, size?” he interrupted, looking down at her, he finally met her eyes. 

“Large,” she gave her classic close eyed smile. His indifferent exterior wavered a touch as he responded with a faint smile, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before, can I get a name for the order?” he remarked, allowing himself a longer look at the younger girl.

“I’m Wren and you won’t be for long. I’m just passing through with my parents.”

“On holiday? At mystic falls?!” he asked sceptically, his pen had stopped moving as he stared at her as though she’d admitted a grievous offence.

“Why not?” she grinned.

“Well, there’s 100 other places I’d rather be and I’m a local here so…” he chuckled.

 “There something wrong with this place?” she asked intrigued, she leaned forward, her elbows supporting as she rested her chin in her palms. His hands fiddled with the small towel in his other hand as his gaze fell, searching for the correct words.  Her eyes glinted in intrigue as she watched him struggle to reveal the hidden knowledge. 

“…just be careful around here,” he advised, before giving a slight nod and hastening off to attend to the other customers.  

He’d left quickly, not allowing her to inquire further. She pouted, disappointed that his wary build-up had led to no revealment, ‘great cryptic message’. She awaited her meal, studying the crowd, subtly observing those around her- a habit she’d adopted and benefited from throughout her tumultuous life. Those surrounding her appeared to be engaged in their own private discussions, often she’d catch a few stares likely trying to gauge and recall if she were a local or not.

Finally, her food arrived and was placed before her on the table by a different server, the smell enticing her to close her eyes and get comfortable before she began eating. She stretched her shoulders backwards before wincing at the ache, ‘that asshole,’ she grunted returning her shoulders to her side as she recalled the events, she mumbled into a bite of her burger, venting about how she should’ve returned each blow she’d received.

When she finished the meal, she placed the amount owing onto the table, and sat carefully watching out the diner window with her drink. The sun had set by then, those still inside the bar were hopeless drunks fearful of returning home to their aggrieved wives and neglected children. Her gaze had been fixed on a particular man for a while now- a short and lean man, alone and about to exit the diner. He took take a stumble landing right on his face. When he looked up, his nose appeared broken with blood running down his face as he tried to get back up. He didn’t appear to register the pain of his fall in his intoxicated state. She tried to strain her laughter before chugging her drink with one gulp and following after him.  

She watched him exit the building. A waitress carrying a few drinks on the platter came towards her as she neared the door. Wren placed a foot out, tripping her onto the floor, the drink spilling everywhere as she continued walking. Towards the exit, there was a booth with a beautiful leather black jacket that Wren had been eyeing. Whilst the others went to assist the waitress, she swiped the jacket and continued walking casually, her eyes scanning the man. She followed him closely as he walked farther and farther from public eye, fumbling in her pocket, not averting her focus on the man, and pinched out a cigarette and lighter from the depths of her jacket. She lit the cigarette, taking in a large, much desired inhale, her whole body lifting and raising from the inhale and exhale. She continued watching him, exhaling the smoke away from her line of sight.   

She’d been stalking him as soon as he entered the diner with his relatively expensive looking attire. He didn’t converse with anyone and immediately set to ordering multiple drinks- 7 of the expensive bourbons to be exact, enough to incapacitate him but not enough to dry his black leather wallet.  All factors she’d considered before selecting him as her mark. 

She pulled the hoodie of her jacket over her and reached into the pant pocket to pull out a stolen silver kitchen knife- one she had been given to cut into her large burger. She paused lurking the surrounds once she gathered that they were in a remote enough place to not attract attention. Quietly, she paced towards him, careful to mask her footsteps. His back remained towards her, clueless to her arrival until she gently pressed the knife into his back. She jabbed with only enough pressure to alarm him to her weapon and to dispel any reckless bravery on his part.

She deepened her voice, masking any sign of femininity, “your wallet…gimme your wallet and don’t try anything stupid. Come on!!” she shouted, forcing the knife closer against him. “Now!! Nice and slow…then me and my buddy won’t have to hurt you,” she threatened. The man continued to panic and plead for his life, deathly conscious of the weapon tearing the fabric of his clothing and threatening to pierce his skin. 

“Don’t hurt me please, take it, take anything, I don’t want any trouble” he begged, all his attention strayed to the part of his back where Wren held the knife to.

“Give me your wallet and there won’t be any,” she forced her voice to be coarse and thick. The man reached into his pocket before wincing at Wren’s words, “Slowly!!” again she pushed the blade deeper at him, she was sure that she’d nicked a hole in his clothing.

“Ok ok!! just put the blade down,” he urged, his hand trailing slower into his pocket as he brought out his wallet.

“Shut up!” she took the wallet from him.

“Is that all?”

“Please I’ve given you everything I have, I swear,” he panicked, sweat trickled down his forehead.

She peered the wallet ‘$150…well better than nothing’, she’d surmised, “Thanks a bunch old man,” she resumed her normal silvery voice. But before the man could turn around in surprise, she kneed his back leg, causing him to fall forward and delivered a blow to his head before running off, leaving the man dazed and soon furious.   

“Stupid,” Wren snickered, dashing off as fast as her legs could allow. Her snicker broke into smug laughter when the sound of the aggrieved man’s cursing and shouting registered. Her brows furrowed; her pace slowed as she gave a fleeting look behind her in response to a throat curdling scream.  She squinted her eyes, trying to see past the darkness of the night. Ominously hovering over the man, she had just mugged was another, a taller pale figure with a dark shade of blonde hair. She stumbled back seeing the latter of the two men bare his fangs into the other. She panicked, her fear bolstering her to exert all her energy to run and only run, to dismiss greater forethought or curiosity and simply run. ‘Fuck..fuck….what the fuck. What was that?!!’ her heart raced, recalling the attackers’ piercing sharp eyes. 

She was confident he’d seen her; their eyes had locked for only an increment of a few seconds, but that provided little assurance to calm her instincts as it screamed for her to continue running. She tried to lull herself by rationalising that the inhuman creature she had seen was simply a visual distortion cast by distance and shadows. The darkness and the fog- and every other explanation that comforted her with momentary sanity. She bit down onto the fleshy soft wall of her mouth, forcing herself out of her minds desperate attempt to explain away and dismiss what she’d seen. She hastened her pace, biting away all doubts, not allowing herself to ease her worries or take any chances until her safety was assured inside the cover of 4 surrounding walls. Matt’s earlier caution rang in her mind as she continued forward.

Chapter Text

“Quite a show there.” A sharp intake of breath caught in her throat, her muscles immediately tensing to the foreign voice that applauded her. She desperately surveyed her surroundings- meticulously searching for any evidence of life amongst the oppressive and all-engulfing veil of darkness cast by the late hour. All efforts of sighting the owner of the mysterious accented voice proved futile inasmuch as her weary eyes and the only light source emanating from the distant white-gold moon- her only other companion, impartial in all ways to her plight. For only a brief second, as she would allow, she questioned her own hearing, questioned her mind colluding with her other traitorous senses and the sombre ambience of the night, to possibly guilt-trip her for her earlier offence. This thought, she hastily exiled from her mind in favour of believing the worst, in order that she may prepare for the worst and by result, improve the likelihood of surviving. With that cataclysmic mindset, she took a deep breath, wiping her sweaty palms on her jacket and steadied herself. With newfound concentration, she swore she could make out the outline of the shadows, the converging of a blurry mix of different shapes now made more individual, more identifiable. Before long, she could see the contours of a man a few steps before her, slowly revealing himself as he entered towards the light- towards her.

Her measured careful retreat was outpaced by his bold daring gait, each step backwards made futile by the larger step forward. The light granted her with a visual of the dirty blonde-haired man, appearing to be in his late 20’s with electric hued eyes, made all the more vivid against his pale, almost translucent skin- all features that portrayed him an unearthly imperial being. However, despite his alluring features, trailed remnants of blood beginning from the corners of his curved lips and flowing downwards overshadowed and marred all innocent promises of a divine being incapable of wrongdoing. The white sharp fangs she had witnessed earlier rested on his tinted lips, dark trails underneath his skin branched outward from the corner of his outer eyes.

“Glad I could entertain you, return the favour and let me go.” Her brows raised in hopeless query, drawing only a scoff of brief amusement from him.
“…. Please?” she forced a smile, trying to salvage her composure. He remained silent, making a careful study of her. Despite his busied eyes, Wren saw the subtle curl of his lips, making her more conscious of her state. A cold shiver ran through her spine, forcing her to straighten her back- she had not realised she was hunched over feeling as though a she were being dissected carefully and with purpose. ‘Bastard’s toying with me,’ she balled her hands into a fist, what was for her a life-or-death moment was for him a fleeting means of entertainment- its continuation- her life, dependent solely on his whim.

She cleared her throat, conceding further impulses to beg, to crawl at his mercy and hope that the murderer would somehow regain his morality and free her. Instead, she accepted her reality, that he was a sadistic bastard, and that life wasn’t nor will ever be fair. “Look, I didn’t see anything,” she negotiated, raising both her hands in the air.

“Quite the contrary, I think you’ve seen enough…But you’d offer to let a murderer, as myself, roam free? So easily? Especially one with my unconventional appearance?” he remarked, his voice accented revealing British origins as he circled around her rambling his theories of her complicit nature. She wasn’t sure if she should reply or interrupt, the man before her appeared content muttering his awe-inspiring observations of her to himself. She understood that feigning further ignorance would not aid her in surviving the being before her.

Instead, Wren awaited his grand conclusion, allowing herself a longer occasion to punctiliously carve her next response, in order to fashion herself a way to escape unscathed- no, not unscathed, that was unrealistic to expect. With gritted teeth, she was forced to cast aside her naivety, standing corned at the mercy of a man, encompassing a deadly mixture of sadistic propensities and pompous disposition, and his sick perversions. ‘Alive…that’s all.’ She entertained and comforted herself with the possibility of escaping, few broken limbs and all.

She wrestled to restrain her primitive instincts to run, fight, anything- all internal conflicts she veiled, quietly waiting for any indication from her better- her current judge jury and executioner, to speak. Finally, she caught the anticipatory lift of his brows, eliciting her doubly scripted response. “We’ve all got unique pastimes…in fact, carjacking happens to be a great one… not legal, but I understand the temptation,” she chuckled nervously, feigning normalcy of his murder by revealing one of her own indiscretions. She continued daring to ignore his mentioning of his queer visual for the cautionary tale underlying the phrase ‘curiosity killed the cat’ played in her mind. ‘The less I know,’ she repeated to herself, recalling his vampiric feature- the animalistic fangs, his eyes and unusual speed- all fleeting curiosities superseded by her innate desire to life.
Instead, she articulated her words slowly and with deliberate selection- studying the subtle expressive cues of his brows and lines of his face to determine if she should continue- if continuing would extend her lifespan. Her words seemed to incite a fire in him, a gaunt smirk and fiery glint in his eye evidence of an excitement of sorts, encouraging her to continue confessing of her indiscretions and feigned admiration. “While, my feats of thievery and other juvenile offences can’t rival yours, each tiny victory of having outpaced and outsmarted someone, is a thrill I dare say we both can attest to.”

She looked around artfully as he digested her façade. The buildings in the near distance were veiled by a thick layer of fog and any sign of life seemed unreachable to her. She knew calling for help would do little to save her from the man before her, whose inhuman speed, fangs and whatever else abilities, she had not fully grasped nor wanted to test without surety of her survival. A million thoughts and regrets raced in her mind; she struggled to refrain from mockingly admonishing herself for her luck, for the metal dart she had blindly aimed at the map and landed a Mystic fall; intended to be a place to start anew and now, what may be her resting place. She steadied her breathing, trying to focus on the now, to remember that her heart was still beating and she had to keep it that way.

“You’re quite the trickster. For a start, I’ve not seen many succeed swindling with a cutlery knife,” he amused revealing a slight admiration at her childish yet creative ploy.
Her light blue eyes narrowed with the reminder that she had the object of discussion in her pocket- her silver, sharp cutlery knife. Surely, she’d read, somewhere or rather, of the lore that silver could be fashioned as a weapon against vampires. Or werewolves? She chided herself for her ignorance, for the comedic fact of her dying for not encompassing knowledge children’s fairy tale. With restored confidence, Wren debated the likelihood of her death at his hands if she were to try to stab him. She had profiled him to be of the kind that revelled in drawing out their interaction, to torment her longer, to satisfy his sadistic perversions. Despite his unnatural looks and inhuman speed, she hesitated to call him a monster. For with her experiences, it seemed more fitting to see the being before her as a man- equally capable of brutality and cruelty as another other man without fangs. An unprecedented monster of biology but a simple man of behaviour.

She listened to the man drawl on, slowly inching her hands inside her pocket, steadying herself to attack against the ‘vampire, werewolf or whatever he was’. The tension in her shoulders dropped a touch as her index finger grazed the cold metal spine of the knife. Again, she questioned the effectiveness of the small knife against the monster but nevertheless, felt safer with it, reassured by the cool surface inside her pocket. She released a long-withheld exhale encouraged by her newly found courage and steeled herself to continue talking, to try and grasp at his fleeting interests long enough to survive him.

She adorned a tensed careful smile. “it’s all in the mind…the eerier of the night, enough liquor to intoxicate does most of the work. But you have to be careful with who you select, can’t pick someone who’s had too little to drink that they’d be able to physically overpower you or someone who’s had too much to drink,” she slightly shook her head, “that they become reckless, inebriated enough to wager a fight even with a sharp object pointed at their backs,” she resumed seeing the visible intrigue in him, as though a magician revealing her tricks to a psychopathic killer. She made a conscious effort to restrain any arrogance and haughtiness at recounting her successful mugging. She understood that arrogant people did not appreciate similar temperaments from others. She continued, seeing him nod at her explanation and after much concealed terror, she resolved that being perceived with intrigue was better than being his next meal. She’d rather a jester than his next dinner.

Her grip on the knife tightened as she moved backwards, seeing the light, humorous gaze in his eyes shift to a dour one. “hmm..Clever…but not enough to spare your life…” he shrugged in a bored manner before continuing. He clasped his hands together decisively. “Tying loose ends and all, you understand. Can’t have you running off after witnessing that. Who knows who’s ears you’d go spilling to” the edges of his lips curled diabolically as his brows raised, doubt and suspicion danced in his eyes. He knew he could compel her to forget and release her, but she’d not given him a reason to make such an effort. 

“I mugged the man you killed at knife point…it would be stupid and just as detrimental for me to report…much less say that the boogey man killed him,” she refuted sarcastically before recommencing her vigilant demeanour “and besides, who’d listen to me, a back-alley stray? They’d sooner take my statement as a confession and have me behind bars by morning.” She added placatingly. She debated revealing a cent of truth about her interactions with the authorities but divested, that much detail was not necessary to highlight their shared distaste for authority. She’d reckoned that a man of his presentations would mock the law, the rules. He didn’t seem to be a follower of any other regulations, much less his own given his likely impulsive state. If he were looking for a comrade amongst the few who strayed from the law as he did, then she would give it to him.

She’d surprised herself at her momentary sarcastic tone, surely normal people in her current predicament would be screaming no doubt, calling for help…a chance she’d not allowed herself to weigh her life against. After all, many years of disappointment left her cynical enough to not expect to receive help from another. No…she had herself and she always came through with or without another by her side. Whatever fear was left, she’d push down, squeeze into the boxed recesses of her mind. She was no stranger to it.
“Who am I to question to the extent of a mortal human’s idiocy. I’ve often seen man do stupid things, even excel at them even at his own demise,” his voice rang sardonically cold as he glowered at her. Though his words were in response to hers, his anger seemed misdirected, a reply to a shadow from the past.

Wren refrained from scoffing. Hearing him denounce man as though he were superior- in biology and all. Contrary to him, she knew that man was cruel, impossibly stupid, and selfish- wholly selfish. But above all, she understood that she was of the same make and model. Her line of thought was interrupted by an instinctual fear that consumed her whole body as his eyes lingered at her neck- awaiting her response. She could swear that he was listening to and could see the small vibrations of her blood pumping and her heart beating over her skin.

“Fair point, but I happen to believe in concessions, especially ones concerning my wellbeing.” She showed a stiff yet hopeful smile. Only this time, she held one eye open, just a touch. She’d gathered that he found satisfaction in her desperation to live or perhaps entertained himself with seeing her beg and plead to live. A condition to earning his favour- one she would willingly to surrender to yet, didn’t- not completely. What if instead, he admired her for her desperate fight to live rather her desperate pleas to live. Doubts and uncertainties of pushing his transient interest in her discouraged her from fully immersing in whichever version of her he favoured- one that retaliated to survive or one that begged.

The handle of the blade behind her dug into her palm the more she squeezed it, she selected her words methodically, ensuring she did not speak out of turn and render his momentary inquisitiveness to dissipate and lead to her certain death. She was habituated with thinking, framing her words before verbalising them- a painstakingly learned skill that had helped her escape many dire circumstances.

Klaus observed the juvenile, noting the way her eyes incessantly looked all about her- a corned cat, scrupulously pre-empting her next move. He unclasped his hands and relaxed his shoulders. “How old are you, little thief?” he asked deridingly, looking her up and down, examining for any visual clues.

“I’m 15….” Mimicking his eased body language, she hid a smile from her small victory. He had granted her a nickname- one that almost sounded jocund- light-hearted, if possible, in their situation. “I’m Wren… 15, an orphan with no home nor others of my blood. I’ve been in the system long enough to know that speaking out often leads to a trip to the hospital…” she eyed him slightly pouting. “Besides, wouldn’t you want to avoid incurring karma for my pitiful death? I’m pretty sure the rule is, killing one orphan equates to killing at least 7 kids with moms and dads.” A pitiful child abandoned and forgotten by others- a tragic role she had used to her advantage many times before. 

“Pitiful?” he chuckled incredulously, “you’re quick to forget and pardon your own misconduct, I believe I just saw you ruthlessly mug a man.”

“No, you saw an orphaned child with no home nor guardian steal from a well-off man with a harmless cutlery knife so that she may be able to feed herself for the first time in a long while. You know, some would consider me a survivor.” She drew nearer to him, pulling up her sleeves slightly to reveal the bruises, his earlier resoluteness faltered at her words. Again, another victory however small. She saw that her words held him, if only for a few seconds. Her eyes grew uncharacteristically teary, that she was not sure was intentional or a real display of her current fear and grievances. Despite her ordinarily fenced and reserved nature, the present near-death situation forced her innate fears to surface. She felt herself giving away to her fear and lifetime of grievances, the poor luck she had been delivered.

He gave a snarky grin; she took note of how his eyes twitched- now a ghost of a twitch as he swiftly recovered his controlled composure. Again, his demeanour resumed to that of paranoia and suspicions- the emotion a tight-fitting cloth on the man. Him in his state of normalcy. She stepped back habitually. He had automatically taken her words to be that of lies, but that did not change the proof of her claims before him, a young girl of pale deathly bruised complexion with spots of purple and blue running across her arms, lithe and lean from no doubt childhood malnutrition. Her eyes were shrouded in tears, unwilling to let them fall, but she held a burning light in those pale eyes, a desperation, a fight she’d not surrender to, one he’d seen in another boy and in himself.

“You say you have no home?” he asked again, the smirk erased from his face as his mind raged in conflict. “No home, no family, an orphan,” she recounted eager to remind him, “a living tragedy.”

“Yes, indeed but not a rare one…” in his time, he’d seen the worst of humanity, enough for him to perceive that violence, famine and corruption were entrenched in their biology. Her very state recalled memories of another child in similar circumstances, one that he’d long hidden within the depths of his 1000-year-old mind. He turned to look away from her for a bit, recovering his indifference.

“Yes…but you can’t deny, a tragedy nevertheless?” she invited his assurance optimistically. Frustration was weaved in her words, beckoning the man in front of her to allow her to pass and continue his violent sprees away from her.

“…I will mourn momentarily over your death, only to be comforted by the thought of reuniting you with deceased family,” he shrugged before flashing towards her instantaneously. Before she could react, he’d bared his fangs and driven them without constraint into the young girl’s slim neck, , causing her to contort from a surprised recoil to a cringed scream of pain. Driven only by the immediate instinct to remove the source of her pain, she tried to claw away at the hand constricting her neck into position, yet her efforts proved futile, her resistance only edging him to strengthen his hold- precise enough to ensure her immobility but not enough cut his fun short by killing her.

Chapter Text

The deep crescent shaped scratches of desperation on his hands pierced his fingers to his wrists, leaving in their trail a surface of Klaus’ blood. Klaus’ brow raised a smidge- almost impressed by the girl’s efforts, a cornered kitten he mused. His fangs still latched onto her without respite, Wren finally surrendered the use of one of her hands and, with the other, discreetly reached into her pocket to retrieve the briefly forgotten knife. She feigned resistance with her left hand- the nails still bidding to tear the hand clasped around her neck. Her right, slowly raised high behind him with the knife as he busied draining her. With all the strength she could muster, propelled by the residual rush of adrenaline, she swung downwards- the knife punctured deep into his shoulder repeatedly, crude and gracelessly executed thrust. After a few plunges, the power behind her strokes slowly faded, along with her own dwindling effort to stay conscious.  Even so, he persisted buried in her neck, unwavering to his own wounds as they bled profusely, staining inconsistent patches of red on her jaw- the smudge spreading disease-like as she unconsciously rested her burdening weight on him, her jaw atop his bleeding shoulder. Her grip on the knife sluggishly loosened, leaving it planted his neck. As seconds passed, she felt herself grow dazed and weary- the fight in her yielding as her feet fully threated to give out under her.

Despite minutes passing of the ordeal, Wren felt the fight had lasted a lifetime for her. Her thoughts trailed an endless a breath-wrenching fight, a long overdue ocean of fatigue bursting. When suddenly, such feelings and pains disappeared, her mind and body renewed- negotiated with the devil for a chance to start anew. She felt light, serene- where there was a raging ocean before, was now erased, every drop of water made no more. Her lids no longer felt heavy, regretful to open. But only when open, did she notice that without realising it, she had been holding onto her aggressor for fear of falling, for fear of being stripped off the newly gained rush of emotions- different ones that she’d been use to. Like a drug, she wanted to escape into a life of insincere promises and lies, if it meant a second of escaping her eternal reality. Her mind stilled…she’d always thought her mind would be racing with thoughts before her death…her brother…her father…her deceased mother and her time at the orphanage. But instead, she felt tranquil, the intervals of breath lengthened, her heartbeat slowed and quietened inside her, she held him tightly, urgently for the discovered experience, that she’d felt only in his embrace.

A tinge of frustration washed over her, feeling him hesitantly push her away. She challenged his withdrawal by tightening her hold on him. Her arms circled around his waist, she caught the scent of sharp whiskey mixed with high end cologne- comically, just like one of the many men she robbed. She burrowed herself deeper into the crevice of his neck and collarbone, the initial pain of the puncture subsided, overcome by wearied senses and the collapse of her characteristically guarded nature.

Klaus removed his grip on the back of her head, his hands trailed to her shoulders searching for surface to grasp and push away. Fighting all urges- both hunger and entertainment, he effortfully yanked her away. His mouth agape and chin pointed to the sky, he stood in shock, eyes fixed to the stars then the nearby lampposts trying to gather his surroundings.

His eyes had turned a vampiric black with spidery veins, under the shallow surface of his skin, trailing inwards in throbs from the outer corners of his eyes. His eyes had widened in euphoria as the electric sensation of her blood coursed throughout his system. His tongue curled upwards brushing the vestiges of her blood on his face. He felt weightless, vastly more powerful and almost liberated from the 1000-year-old ceaseless discomfort.

Her blood surged rapidly towards his heart. With his eyes closed off to the world and mind focused, he could swear he felt whole again as though his dormant werewolf side was at long last unbridled- this feeling- this state, felt entirely attainable, he merely had to stretch and grasp it. His only disappointment presented in the transitory nature of this euphoria. The sensation gradually began to fade, becoming more disenchanted, aware and guarded as the effects stagnated. He could feel his senses and strength heightened but still, he desired the rare feeling of completion.

He closed his eyes taking much needed inhale and willed his body to retract his fangs and other vampiric presentations. He looked down to see the girl had fallen unconscious, only his hands clutching her arms prevented her from a painful landing on the stony road. Impulses to have her satiate his ephemeral hunger were now substituted with an excitement, stirred by the discovery of the effects of the young girl’s blood. He scoffed boastingly having exercised great forethought and restraint on his part. His eyes trailed to her in wonder- combing through everything supernatural entity he knew to try to explain her. The young girl’s complexion was deathful pale, her muscles limp. Evidence of any life or youth, had to be prudently sought from what appeared to be a corpse. A sigh of relief as he felt a light heartbeat and witnessed a weak rising of her chest.

In examining, he was allowed an unobstructed look at the traces of an old purplish bruise beginning from her shoulder and trailing downwards. He jested that he had completed his ‘one good deed a decade’ as Elijah beckoned him years ago- an entreaty he did little to oblige. His amusement reverted to a bewildered one, seeing a placid and calm smile etched on the strange girl’s face, a concealed part of him vaguely envious of her unburdened beam.

He lifted her frame effortlessly and threw her over his shoulders with indifferent ease. His hands rested on the back of her legs, situating her in place, while he flashed to his car. He opened the car door, humming a triumphant tune as he tossed her thoughtlessly onto the backseat, indifferent and unsympathetic to her comfort. Her head lay uncomfortably on the solid cold interior of the car door as he began driving. He could see a small trail of blood from the puncture wound on her neck trickle down and turned aside to distract himself. He’d not bothered healing her, assured by his assessment of her health, assured that she would not die but only be in pain.  

Klaus’ humming had concluded, dawn was approaching. Occasionally, his gaze would drift to the backseat, interrupted from his thoughts by a pained groan emanating from the backseats. Rarely, if he cared enough to pay attention, he caught her mumbling in her sleep, fighting off night terrors. Klaus returned his gaze to the front, reaching for his vibrating phone. The corners of his lips curled as he identified the caller, “Hello brother,” he accentuated the words, “finally crawling out of wherever burrow you’ve called for the last few years? Tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure of receiving a call from you? No wait, let me guess, you wish to voice your grievances about my unbecoming conduct? Honestly, you’re becoming quite predictable.” 

“I’d have no need to if you learned to reign in your debauchery, brother,” Elijah sighed responding to Klaus with equal disdain and annoyance, “but seeing as that does not seem plausible in the near future, you leave me no choice but to intercede in this enduring and tiresome affair between you, Elena and her companions.”   

“Ah, so you’ve met the darling Elena. I surmise that you up to date with my impending victory”. Klaus allowed a chuckle to escape him. “The girls- a perfect replicate of her predecessors. Though, I regret to say she lacks Katherine’s conniving flare and charm. But in her own right, she’s quite the little minx, careful she doesn’t beguile you to do anything foolish. Especially ones concerning my good-natured business.”

“You know me as one not to stand by and watch as you declare war and reign tyranny on a few juveniles,” Elijah held stern, threats laced in the elegant tapestry of his words.

“Your stick of righteousness is honestly becoming tedious. Continue to feign naivety of the universal logic that one cannot win a war without a few losses…However juvenile and pitiful they are. Honestly, you’d have surrendered this pathetic grasp at righting every wrong if only, you take heed my words and forgo the cordiality you so afford to our inferiors.”

“Centuries of terrifying weaker mortals and yet, the act still continues to entertain you, how you don’t tire of playing the big bad wolf amazes me.” Elijah placed a hand to his temple to alleviate the century old headache his brother had birthed in him.

He growled, ceasing any jest. Threats of mortality danced on his words as he remarked “I have waited far too long to let you or anyone else steal the doppelganger from me, you-” However, before Niklaus could continue to deliver a snarky reply, his attention diverted to the girl. He lowered the phone from his ear, watching as she whimpered “Stop please…no more…” a vulnerability surfaced in her that Niklaus did not see even when he threatened her with death.

“Niklaus? Who are you tormenting now?” Elijah’s voice was laced with concern and suspicion as he heard a young girl’s cries. Despite his enhanced hearing, he placed the phone closer to his ear, an unconscious effort to investigate the pained murmur.

“Let’s settle family affairs another time brother, I’ve got a more immediate juvenile that warrants my attention.” He ended the call, cutting off Elijah’s protests. Klaus pulled the car over. When the vehicle came to a stop, he flashed to the back door and inspected her. Klaus sighed at the inconvenience, he shook her lightly, careful to not bruise her any further.

“Do wake up soon, little thief.” He muttered, peering down at her- a weak, pathetic creature in disdain. He mumbled a few complaints realising that his newest discovery was a defect. Despite, his shaking, her eyes remained resolutely closed. Slightly concerned, he listened, he could hear her heartbeat begin to slow along with her breathing. ‘Proving quite useless and so soon,’ he looked at her pained expression, trying not to recollect memories nor draw similarities to himself in his youth, beaten and bloodied by Mikael.

Niklaus appeared perplexed, unsure of how to proceed without hurting her. He considered pitying her and granting her his blood to alleviate her pain, but digressed at the fear of some supernatural effect that his blood might place on the mysterious girl- her origins he knew little of. He was not going to waste the opportunity to have her examined by a trusted witch of his, to seek the permanency of her ability to awaken his hybrid nature. And, while he awarded Elena the unsought honour of sacrificing herself for a greater good- the reunification of his vampire and werewolf state, it could not hurt to have a back-up plan.  

Finally, he resorted to shaking her- this time with more force until she awoke. The rough housing appeared to work as the dire physiological responses purported by her nightmares seemed to stabilise. She blinked a few times, each time appearing less dazed, After a while, she gathered enough awareness to fully open her eyes to see Niklaus holding her shoulders, slight concern laced in his eyes, his brow crinkled as he studied her. She felt liquid trickle down her nose, inspecting the remnants of blood on her finger. Only after registering the blood, did she wince in pain, tracing the puncture wounds of his fangs. The blood around her neck had dried, leaving a dry sandy texture to rub between her thumb and index. 

“Welcome back, love,” He looked away from her as he returned to his seat and began driving. She sat in silence for a while, gathering her bearings and not wanting to act impulsive and sign her death warrant. Prompted by the receding headache, she realised she had had another episode- one in which her nightmares leaked into the day and garnered her immobility. Allowing a few moments of silence to pass, she began to appreciate his indifference to her nightmares and sat up to scan their surrounds. Silence continued, her gaze fell to the forestry scene before her. “Didn’t think you’d let me go”. She conversed, distracting herself from the pain of her wounds...She had to focus on the more immediate danger. 

“Rest assured, I’m not letting you go. I’m only letting you live temporarily…consider it how you well.” He resumed his attentions to driving.  

“Kidnapping then?” she looked to his direction apprehensively, subtly trying to read him, yet his eyes remained on the road revealing little concerning her long-term survival. She didn’t recognise the surrounding…she guessed that she’d been asleep for no more than 5 hours as the sun appeared to be coming up…she’d be long out of town by now.   

“I’ve yet to decide. However, I’ve determined that I’m feeling rather magnanimous today, so I shall let you live.” He caught Wren’s poorly concealed sigh, “for now,” he added smirking at her tense shoulders. His eyes held a playful yet threatening gaze, not granting her any moment of relief. He amused himself in the way her emotions flittered to and fro. The same way a cat might react when threatened; its hairs erecting instantaneously to project a larger silhouette. He went as far as to omit from revealing her value in the form of her exquisite and likely magical blood, thus denying her the privilege and comfort of being assured of her safety.  

“Though, that leaves me to ponder what I should do with you?” he kept one hand on the steering wheel and turned around to face her. “What can you do for me? I’m not in the habit of taking in strays.” He critiqued viciously, his voice regained its cold and calculating tone, eyeing Wren up and down before returning his gaze to the road.

Wren’s shoulders sagged in relief. Perhaps he were not human, but she did not care to die in a car accident due to his negligence to adhere to driving etiquette. She did not voice her thoughts, it seemed uncomplimentary to her survival, even to the standards of stereotypical women in horror movies that she admonishes the murderer-kidnapper of not driving properly.

“I can learn.” His eyes widened in surprise at her answer. She pursued upon seeing his bemused state, “I’m not sure what you expected from a child of the slums, I’m only skilled with surviving I suppose…perhaps not even that so you’ve proven.” She chuckled nervously, her mind mocking at her current predicament. While anger boiled in her at how easily he’d maimed her, she held it in, repressing it all, she knew resistance against the being before her was futile. She was always a careful individual even in her younger years when she’d wait patiently, studying her younger brothers’ bullies before engaging in a fight that would undoubtedly result in her win. She’d tried to obscure her pride of the many skills and talents she acquired in her lifestyle, all attempts to not allow him to acquire more information about her capabilities. Perhaps, he might cuff her or tie her hands up without knowing her aptitude for escaping the bindings.  

“You can learn?” he recited,  her words  appeared to almost stupefy the original. He’d not expected such a honest response even with the thousands of years behind him. He smiled entertained by her novel response, his prior scepticism and paranoia had diminished slightly.

“Yes” She answered resolutely.

“As can hounds…not really much to boast about,” he challenged, sneering at her announcement of her skillset.  

“Well, true…” she sighed exasperatedly, at a loss of how to respond. Before he could respond with an insult or two, she continued, “I suppose…but the only difference is that I’m here and Spot?? Is it? isn’t. And, you know these days, it’s easier to kidnap a stray human than a beloved family dog like Spot…” she placed a hand on the interior of the car, “ oh and the shedding…lots of shedding…as cute as he would be, spots not worth ruining these luxurious seats,” She gave a strained smile, trying to advertise herself. 

“So, my convenience is the only thing saving you?”

“I mean, why do more when you can do less? You know what they say, convenience, sex…convenient sex and violence sells- not sure if in that order.” she smiled, making herself comfortable in the seat, wiping the seat of the car. “See no shedding.”

Chapter Text

Klaus continued driving, ending the conversation for the both of them with a swift and conclusive scoff- a habit that Wren acutely stored away. Her position behind the drivers seat allowed her a view of his reflection from the side mirror and more importantly, a view of the surrounds. She waited for some time to pass, enough for Klaus to embrace the silence, the cool wind and almost forget there was another passenger in the car, before daring a longing look outside the car to plan her escape. While she waited for the perfect moment, she cringed into herself and eased her breathing- minimising any evidence of her presence in an effort to further lull Klaus’ mind away.

To her delight, it seemed to have worked. A peak at the way his ocean-blue eyes mulled over distant thoughts was enough for her tactful nature to understand that he was not in the car with her, not expecting her to entertain brave, desperate thoughts of flight. It was only in this light and precise observation that she noticed-whether it was brought upon by the transient lighting of the morning sun or a dust laden memory- a beautiful and frighteningly powerful maelstrom of stories, emotions and lives in his eyes. The sight demanded its capture of her attention, leaving her hesitant to blink for worry it would disappear akin to how a warm breathe in the cold morning light disappears quicker than its is registered. As she expected, a few seconds and it was gone. Unfair and again were the first word to pop in her mind, it seemed like a ploy to tease a child- to show them a puzzle and then rob them of it after alighting their interests. She was sure that after everything, after she’d escaped and had put everything bizarre of the day behind her, only his eyes would be left, the whirlwind of emotions in a large ocean, thrashing against the waves and causing collisions great enough to reach the skies. Later. She would fixate on her loss- the look in her kidnappers eyes, later. First she had to survive him.    

She eased back into her seat, leaning against the cool leather back, and allowed a buried sigh of relief, only then realising how rigid her whole body had been while negotiating her survival with one she knew would not lose a minute of sleep over killing her. Her strained facial muscles tired from adorning her placatory smile- one she offered to appease whoever was threatening at the time.

With him occupied with his own thoughts… different ones than before she surmised, no longer seeing the same emotions plastered into his eyes. Wren’s gaze fixed on the mountain of forests surrounding them, pondering different conclusions to her travel with her kidnapper- most of which, ended with her unequivocally dead. The dry, grey, and almost shrunken corpse of the man flashed in her mind- a successful attempt by her desperation to incite momentary courage in her. If I jump out now, maybe I’ll make it…Just run into the forest and I’ll lose track of him…climb a tree maybe. Are there wolves in mystic falls? Bears?? no,, rather take my chances with the wild then whatever he is. Yeah, if I don’t fight now…there’s a chance I’m bound to get locked up in this creep’s basement…Fuck. Fuck. No, better alive in a basement than being killed now. An opportunity will present…I’m sure of it. Arrogant bastards gonna have to slip up. 

At some point without her awareness, Niklaus had returned to his senses and watched her in the mirror. Her eyes seemed to burrow holes into him, but her mind elsewhere, removed from realising what she was doing. He wore a knowing look- familiar to her plights, a smile prompted as he saw the wheels turning in her mind, plotting her escape. “Be careful of what you chose to do next. I assure you; I have very little patience for any defiance. We’re on a time constraint as it is to get home.” I already have enough treachery from my brother and the added nuisance of mortals.

His words ripped her thoughts to the present. Wren sported a dry chuckle, feigning ignorance. Her hands raised in the air, punctuating her innocence. “Of-course…So, where’s home?” she casually dismissed his rightful accusations.   

“That’s it?” he raised a brow; a dangerous blend of surprise, disappointment and intrigue laced his voice.

“What’s it?” She masked a façade of simplicity.  

“I didn’t expect you would be so compliant given our… unusual arrangement.” He smirked. “Especially more so, with your proud proclamations regarding your well-tuned survival instincts?” a query- though equal parts, a derision at her having exposed her lie, 

“Well, I’ve found in my short feeble existence that survival is also knowing when to concede when resistance is futile. Like when, you’re up against a superior being.” She tilted her neck in sombre thought, the question surprising her but her own truthful response even more so. “And, if I’m going to be kidnapped by a rich psych-rich…man, I might as well try to enjoy his wealth.” At least until, he drops his guard…biding patiently until an opportunity arises. She assured herself.

 “Speaking of leaching off of others, say can I expect to be fed, clothed, and sheltered at my new home?” she inquired.  

“I’m nothing if not cordial.” He smirked.

“Of course. So, you’ve proven…” She muttered sarcastically before catching his challenging glare. “My bad, I have a poor habit of judging people,” she conceded before muttering under her breath “for their behaviour.” She resumed her normal tone, “now, as a guest then, may I know the name of my cordial host?”  

“Ah, I’ve neglected to introduce myself. My name’s Klaus. Mikaelson. Perhaps, you’ve heard of me? possibly in old wives’ tales?”

“Do I look the kind to read old wives?” she lightly chuckled. Klaus eyed her dishevelled appearance “I suppose not. You don’t look the type to read at all.”

“My point exactly,” she smiled, casually embracing his affront.  “And what are you, Klaus Mikaelson?” her eyes narrowed in focus, ears suddenly perked, awaiting his secret. She wasn’t sure what to expect or even that he would reveal anything to her.

“An original vampire, my family are the first of our kind, ruling above our inferiors for a thousand years- if you read, you’d have heard us from folktales intended to scare men, women and children” he boasted, watching her expressions carefully, trying to gauge her reaction to his infamy. 

“Right. A vampire. The first of your kind at that. Well, I’m Wren, an orphan as I said before.” So he has family? She stored, forcing a polite smile, internally debating whether he was crazy for drinking her blood and spurting on about supernatural creatures or whether as he claimed, vampires existed.

Her mind warred, trying to accept the possibility of a reality in which vampires existed, in which humans were no longer the apex predators- a thought that perhaps, there was capable a monster more ruthless than man as inspired by the countless tales. But it was irrefutable that she had seen him in a different form- black eyes, sharp fangs and witnessed personally, how easily and swiftly he had drained and thrown the corpse of the large man the night past.  She grounded herself expelling the myriad of conflicting thoughts, noticing his observing stare. Quickly, she masked any visible sign of disbelief- accepting that the debate of whether monsters existed or not was for another day. After all, if the serial killer you’re trapped with says red is blue and blue is red, who are you to argue with him. Heck, if he said he was a magical unicorn and was tasked with saving the world and needed her help- like in the fairy tales, she would happily entertain his delusions.

“Wow never thought I’d get a chance to ride a car as nice as this.” She admired trying to distract her mind, her fingers grazing the edges of the car door. She’d been too lost in her thoughts to realise and admire the car she was in. Klaus looked in surprise at her dismissive response to his admission of being a vampire. Perhaps, it was a coping mechanism for her to accept her new reality.

“If this much is enough to satisfy you, then I assure you; this will be the first of many new experiences for you. I’m not an unreasonable man. Heed my words obediently, and you’ll see we’ll get along like-”     

“Like two cannibal midgets in a fat guy's rib cage?” she offered. Klaus raised a brow in contemplation before shrugging, “Couldn’t have put it better myself.”  

“Well, I love to be spoiled, so do your best.”

This concluded another end to their discussions. Wren feigned sleep, her eyes neatly shut, allowing herself silence to ponder over everything. Niklaus heard her rapid heart beating and tried to stifle his chuckle as he realised, she was feigning sleep. He awarded her some praise for maintaining a cool façade, and yet, instead of assuring her of her safety, he took pleasure in seeing her squirm unnaturally, and in seeing how desperately she held her guard.

Soon Wren felt the motion of the car come to a stop. She rose slowly as if roused from her slumber and peered around. In front of her was a large estate, the sight left her mouth slightly agape. It was a stark contrast to the run-down rooms and streets she’d slept on. 

“I take it you are impressed?” Niklaus remarked as he exited the car. She cleared her throat and followed suite. “That’s one word for it,” She smiled, noticing she had fallen behind Klaus. He stormed inside with the boldness of an owner, yet without a key. Is this place even his? A life of luxury seemed to compliment Klaus perfectly and remained consistent with his expensive tastes in attire- a sign of affluency that she had picked up early into their companionship. So, what if it isn’t his place? Isn’t anything I haven’t done before! She reminisced fondly, recalling memories squatting at expensive holiday resorts (none that compared to the current manor) with likeminded juveniles.

She raced inside excitedly, seeing his figure disappear into the doors. “Where’s my room?”

“Take the chambers next to mine.” He motioned her to leave his presence with only a flick of his hand. His attentions stolen to devising Elena’s capture.

Wren gave him a dumbfounded look, her eyes directing her exasperation. “Right, so either your room will have your name written atop the door or I’m to assume it’s the room stained with blood and dead bodies.” She twirled probingly and scanned the different pathways- one of which led to her room. She awaited his response unsure if he heard her beyond his tendency to be self-absorbed. An idea sprung to her mind; a mischievous glint alighted as she surrendered his attentions. She realised it was a perfect opportunity to do some exploring, possibly get lost and uncover a secret or two of his.  

She took her pick of the paths, turned to the left of the hallway and proceeded to walk with newfound vigour. But before she could disappear to her devices, she felt a hand clutch at her wrist and pull her back. Klaus glared at her, annoyed with the chore of guiding her to her room as though such information should already have been privy to her. Instantly, he could hear and feel her heartrate race, the veins on her wrist labouring under his hold.

“With me,” he tugged her along, he didn’t bother commenting on the way she flinched at his offending touch. Wren awarded her half-lidded smile. “What?! My own personal guide, thanks.” Her brow twitched, overly conscious of the way his fingers slightly plunged the fabric of her jacket. She fought the impulse to pull away, not wanting her distaste to be known. She would not have minded as much if he pushed her (lightly of course) towards the direction, but holding her wrist was not something she was familiar with, thus arousing her discomfort. Strangely, though her discomfort eased once she realised the extent of his hold on her. it was nothing intimate or close. In fact, upon assessing, it was evident that he was lugging her around like some object, displacing her here to there. But is he wrong? I’m as powerless as a fine China. Ugh, just bear with it for now. She noted the interior of the estate as he led her up the stairs and beyond several hallways, her mind vested in mapping the place and numbing his veiled touch.

At some point along the trek to her room, Klaus had thankfully released her, and like a fishing rod, she quickly reeled her hand back to her side. They arrived in front of a large door, with him leading into the room and her following promptly behind, a careful 4 steps behind exactly.  

“You can place your things here.” He motioned towards the wardrobe inside the room before pausing and seeing her without any luggage. “Right, stray and all. I’ll have some clothes brought to you.” He sighed, peeved at the additional workload, even if it only required him to compel someone to do his biddings.     

“Great, I’ll trust you to get my sizes correct.” She smiled, ungracefully plopping herself onto the beige-sheeted silk bed and moaning in satisfaction. Despite his common sense, a flicker of surprise flashed in his mind, seeing the bed swallow Wren into its folds. He blinked again, seeing traces of her existence- strands of her dark raven hair almost sprayed vibrantly atop the bedsheets.

“Maids will arrive on the weekends to attend to the rooms. This room in particular’s been neglected for some time. It’s been a long while since, I’ve shared lodgings with anyone. Though, I imagine anything is an upgrade from sleeping with the rats.” He smirked, insensitive to her hardships.

Huge mansion and only me- a human and a vampire- sounds like the beginning of a cheap horror. “Hahaha” She announces with great exaggeration.” A quip at the poor, never gets old”. 

Her gaze circled the room in awe of its lavishness. “Colour me amazed” she remarked, Klaus stood at the threshold of her room, leaning on the door, wearing a smug expression.  

“Suppose you don’t need me to tell you to make yourself at home?” He chuckled at the way Wren had sprawled all four limbs onto the bed, her shoes throw carelessly on the expensive carpet.  

“What can I say? I adapt quickly.” She didn’t bother turning back up to look at him, and instead continued sprawled out on the bed, her face buried in the lavender scented pillow, acutely hearing him close the door on his way out. 

She quietly stood up, hushing the small squeaks of the bed. Nearing the veranda door, she lightly turned the knob of the door.  What did I expect? That he’d delude himself into believing I’d be too useless and frightened to bother escaping? Seems he’s more careful that I thought. She tried to remember if she had remembered picked similar doors before, but none came to mind.

With frustration, she opted to use her bare strength to pull the knob open. She turned the cold latch a few times with more force before submitting defeat. Well, can’t say I didn’t try. Anything louder and he’ll pick it up. After much uncompensated effort, she barricaded the entrance door to her room by dragging a chair by the vanity table and wedging the top of the back of the chair underneath the doorknob, between the knob and the door. Better than nothing.

She returned to her bed, hoping to conserve her energy for whatever may come later. Her attempts to sleep were thwarted by the everything she had compartmentalised earlier. A box of information landing on the floor and throwing all its contents onto the floor. Most importantly, the fact of supernatural’s and their existence. So…I suppose he’s a vampire. Oh my god. He’s a vampire. An actual vampire. Her eyes widened as she registered the information. And there’s more of them. Lots of them running around in the shadows, secretly drinking people. She tried recalling whatever fiction she had read or heard of vampires. Garlic!! Don’t be stupid. But then again? She pursed her lips, stifling a giggle, the image of wrapping herself with garlic and calmly walking out the door as she made eye contact with Klaus flashed in her mind. Bats? Can he fly? I know he’s strong and fast. Is that all? No, that can’t be it. Think!  for their whole race to have gone unnoticed, reduced to only a fairy-tale in everyone’s minds. There has to be more!  She surmised, given how nonchalant Klaus was with revealing his species and boldly kidnapping and murdering people. Her thoughts rambled until, she tired herself out, falling into a deep slumber.

Klaus smiled downstairs, having heard the whole ordeal of her struggle, and subsequent vulgar curses of surrender at failing to open the door. With trained precision, his hand guided the wooden paintbrush along the blank canvas, unsure of where to begin. He contemplated how it reminded him of the oblivious girl nesting upstairs- a blank canvas, of unknown power and potential, served exclusively for his moulding. It was easy to conclude her powers as stemming from witchy origins- as everything else problematic did. But he was not inclined to accept the convenient deduction without definitive proof- a task he would delegate the task to one of his trusted witches.

When Wren awoke, the sun had set, and Niklaus was nowhere to be heard. She’d called out for him a few times only meet with silence and at times, an echo of her own voice, depending on where she was in the estate. She contemplated returning to bed where it was warm, it seemed to have done wonders to ease her earlier physical strains but curtailed her temptations. She turned the lamp beside her bed on and paced to the entrance door. After a few seconds, she opened the door- expecting to find herself enveloped in the darkness of the hallway. Instead, the lights were left on, all through the long corridor, with no one in sight or sound.

She thought to plan an escape but restrained herself from acting impulsively. What if he’s testing me and waiting outside the manor…wouldn’t put it against his careful nature. What if he isn’t? and I’m just wasting my time here? Well, either I try and escape now and give him a reason to kill me or I play it safe and plan my escape later. Wait, why would he even need a reason to kill me? Ugh… Finally, after much debate, she decided to do. I’ll take a look around the estate, and if I happen to recall where the door is, and I haven’t bumped into him while looking around, I’ll make a run for it.   

As decided, she wandered through the rooms, trying to remember the front door. Her steps were measured to veil the rush of adrenaline in her system at escaping. Though equally, her steps were slowed, examining the corridor plastered with paintings of women and men in light shawls- she was sure she had seen some of them on TV- the ones people bid for. In the corners of the hallway, there were beautiful vases with intricate designs- despite lacking any expertise in vases, she could tell they were expensive…an antique. She chuckled, carefully tracing the smooth, dust-free texture cool golden coloured frame of a nearby painting. Who am I kidding? Running away from all this? But he killed someone. She weakly reminded herself, her earlier horror and disgust slightly fading. She caught her own awed reflection in the golden frame. One mans curse is another blessing She rationalised before shrugging the thought away.

Tired of trying to resolve the moral dilemma or lack of, she strolled to what she recognised as the kitchen. She wore a faint smile nearing the drawers and pocketed a shark knife into her pocket, veiled by her loose top. Better than nothing she shrugged, looking around and seeing nothing else to make a weapon of. She thought back to her earlier physical quarrel with Klaus as he drained her. A sharp taste of disgust lingered in her mouth, not wholly at her physical weakness, but rather recalling her momentary lapse in judgement and submission as she gave into his hold, almost embraced the impending doom.  

Now strapped with the knife, she walked with more ease and came upon a room unlike the others of which the doors had been as her veranda door- without a lock. This one however was different; it was at the furthest corner of the estate with the door locked. She turned the knob, peered into the keyhole with curiosity.

A locked door of a wealthy estate? Practically, begging for me to open it. Hmm, maybe I did overestimate him. I mean who brings a stray into a place like this…wait no…don’t tell me he believes in honour amongst thieves and kidnappers. She chuckled, imagining the intimidating Klaus to hold a streak of naivety. She looked around warily before taking out a pin and mangling the cheap accessory before picking at the lock. Finally, she entered the room, a victorious smile plastered on her face as she pocketed the hairpin.

To her disappointment, instead of finding a cartoonish treasure of gold, there lie in the centre of the room, coffins…Five to be exact. Five mahogany caskets, closed. She nearly bust into a fit of laughter. Of course, the vampire has coffins- I guess they really do sleep in there. But, why the bedrooms? For pretend? Decorative beds?! Another fit of laughter threatened to escape her. When she expelled the comical thoughts, she peered behind her- a traitorous final plea to be discovered now than any later. Not seeing any hint of Klaus, she carefully closed the door, venturing inwards.

As though expecting a booby trap, she held her guard, nearing the caskets. It was then she noticed that this room was colder…more still than the others. Veering close enough notice that the caskets had been carefully tended to without a speck of dust or debris, she placed a hesitant hand on the straight-grained, reddish-brown timber of the casket lid slowly lifting the wood before an odd sensation waved over her. A sudden change in the atmosphere, like when you stepped from one room starkly different to another.   

She’d remembered a similar feeling as when she first met Klaus, processing not the scent of death and decay, but rather she sensed its presence…both Klaus and whatever was in the coffin had a presence of death attached to them.

Now. There’s no money in here for sure. An impulse to shake the coffins slightly for the sound of gold jingling was dismissed. I assume one of them belong to Klaus… Is he in one of them now!!! No, he would’ve heard me calling out for him. Maybe he did hear me but he’s pretending not to?!! Is… this a family gathering?!! She scanned the five coffins, each likely inhabiting a vampire. She recalled him mentioning his family when he introduced himself. Her feet naturally backed away slightly. No, he said we were the only inhabitants, that he hasn’t lived with anyone else. She stood still in thought, neither moving closer nor further away. So, not gold, not other vampires. People?!! What should I do if I find a dead body? Five dead bodies!!? I can’t report it, not with the cops on my tail…And I can’t confront Klaus on morality nor stop him… Yeah, quite sure he’d have wrung my neck before I can get two words in. Besides, if he knows that I know, he’ll definitely not leave me leave…. Wren- don’t be stupid. They’re either dead people or more vampires. In which case, I’d be stupid to open the casket and wake them. Better to forget I saw it. Ignorance is the way to go. Not like I can do much about it anyway, I just need to bide my time and get out. Besides, once I leave, I promise, I’ll leave an anonymous tip for the cops- they can deal with it. She looked to the other coffins. Not like they’re going anywhere anytime soon. If it turns out its dead people, they can charge him with murder or something. But he’s a vampire?!! I don’t know. They’ll deal with it. Put him behind bars or stuff him with garlic- I don’t know!!  And, if its more vampires, well I hope they bring back-up. Besides, if the cops can’t deal with him, then its out of my hands. She rationalised, carefully releasing her hold on the casket, closing it shut. She exited the door, abandoning any worry for the coffins. Wait, if it is dead people, what’s to say I wont end up in one of them myself?!! No, if he wanted to kill me, he would’ve done it already, wouldn’t he? Why hasn’t he? What better target than me? She fretted, before turning a corner only to be forced to the present upon impact with a hard barrier. She stepped back quickly and regained her foothold.

“Perusing about, are you? See anything, you like?” He asked suspiciously, both were aware she was caught wondering around without permission.

“Klaus!! There you are.” She smiled, her eyes travelling to nearby designs, “And to answer your question, everything. I like everything from the drapes to the paint work.” She swallowed her panic, turning her back to him to admire the nearby tapestry.  

“You have a good sense, that’s from the 18^th century.” He remarked, again her physiological response betraying her cool façade. He pondered that perhaps without his elevated senses, he almost might not be able to discern her panic.

“Huh, of course, it is…” She added, with a forced admiration, taking the option to study the tapestry than indulge in his critiquing stare. She wondered what exactly he liked about the fabric when to her, it was ugly, and its busy colourful embroidery didn’t match the simple and elegant ambience of the estate.  He remained silent, observing her, she cleared her throat, strained from smiling at the piece of tapestry.

”Speaking of, I noticed that each room is slightly different…A certain aesthetic for each?“ She turned to admire the chandelier. Maybe for the vampire family in the coffins? She asked silently.

“An observant eye. I had this redecorated for my family…I’m sure they regret that they are not here to appreciate it with me.” A fleeting tinge of sadness and anger crossed his eyes before he resumed his cold suspicious front. The emotions seemed to dance a frenzied dance in his eyes, making its witness almost dizzy.

I knew it. Ok. So, they’re his family. Ugh. Kind of hoped they were dead bodies. Now I have to worry about more vampires She cried internally. “A shame, if I had a brother waiting to share his wealth with me, I’d happily take it. Then again, disappointing and undeniable, that about sums up family.” She commented delicately, careful not to misread his display of vulnerability. Guess even vampires have their fair share of family drama. She avoided his gaze as her hands grazed the soft material of the drapes. She was neither curious nor sympathetic to her capturer’s family plights, much less willingly to provide any solace. But, she couldn’t deny that if she wanted to live, it would be better achieved by staying on his good side. Especially now that, there were more blood thirsty creatures. She lowered her gaze very subtly and offered an assuring smile to express what little she felt for his hurt.

He sneered in defence, reading her pity. “You talk as though you understand the politics of family, despite earlier countenance of your orphaned childhood”. She snickered, changing her tactic, and mirroring his coldness; her pitying eyes removed in an instant. She dismissed the curtain fabric with a flick of her hand and raising them to surrender. “Hmm…quoted from a movie…no, a song. Maybe. Either way, it was popular, so I assume the words held an inkling of truth.”

The light in his eyes dimmed, his jaw tightened at her callous and dismissive response. Quickly, he looked away and the characteristic curl of the corner of his lips returned. 

Wren read surprise on his face, perhaps he didn't expect her to be so forthcoming and honest about her deceit. She expected him to laugh, he should have if he were as unfeeling as he projected himself to be. So, he does want pity? Wren thought, studying the man before her…trying to unravel him, to accommodate to him. He wants pity, but on his terms. She deduced, hiding a triumphant beam. Thousand-year-old vampire or not… I guess everyone wants pity. Though for him, his arrogance and pride prevent him from accepting it. Next time, I'll look less pitying and more sympathetic.  

He turned as though to leave, her shoulders dropped in ease. “Ah, before I forget” he flashed right beside her, causing her to flinch backwards and place her hand on the knife. She gripped its handle and felt the dull spine of the metal knife but didn’t reveal it to him. She waited patiently for any sign of attack, keeping watch of any sudden movement- she doubted she could catch his movements given his supernatural abilities, but nevertheless, paid keen attention to uncover his abilities.

Chapter Text

He eyes bore into hers, her brows quickly cinched inwards in a frown. “You may continue your skulking about, but keep it contained. You will not leave the estate until I say otherwise.” His pupils dilated abnormally- almost until the black of his pupil blanketed the blue hue of his iris. Before she could allow a retort, he turned, offering her a casual “Oh…” He looked at her mischievously, “and no attempts to escape either. I will return shortly,” before flashing off. 

Wren looked around flabbergasted, his words weren’t a threat for sure- they lacked the usual tug of his lips as he spoke, advertently sharpening his words and drawing fear in whomever was the listener. Not threat, but they were said with more certainty and trust than that which he should have against his victim. Like he trusted her to demurely abide by his words. She scoffed in dismissal, attributing his perceived guarantee of her obedience it to his arrogance.

When she finally heard the distinct close of the heavy front door of the house, she waited. Only a few seconds though, before running upstairs with a gleeful smile. The corridors ran at length, she stopped at the door nearest to the painting of the two fat cupids- an easy landmark to remember. She stormed into the room, knelt down under the bed, felt blindly for the suitcase that she remembered seeing during her earlier exploration. 

She grinned championing the suitcase, wheeled it to the wardrobe and stuffed it with the countless jewelleries. Adrenaline rushed through her as she snatched however much her fist could grab into the suitcase. This is it. No more crazy vampire business. I’ll go to California- the golden state. When I get there, I’ll sell everything and move again.

Deeming that the suitcase could fit any more jewels, she wheeled the heavy luggage down the stairs with much difficulty. She paused at the front door, turned around one final time in glee. Should I leave a note goodbye? Maybe, a thank you? She chortled, placing her right hand on the doorknob... Her smile twitched open. Come on, door. Open!! She grunted, increasing her strength, but the doorknob didn’t budge at all. She pouted in confusion, the doorknob had no lock, but it wouldn’t budge neither forward nor turn in any direction. Is someone holding the other side? She gasped, quickly withdrawing her hand and awaited a while. No one entered to admonish her for attempting to escape. 

Infuriated, she gave up on waiting for someone to pop out. She bent down, placed her left hand over the right to exert more strength. Only from that angle, did she realise that her right hand was only hovering on the doorknob and not on it as she expected. What the!! She tried to nudge her hand forward atop the knob, and then tried again with her left hand- both attempts futile as despite her instructions, neither hand would touch the door.

Why can’t I open the door? or at least, touch it!! She opted to kick the door, though likewise, her feet paused in the air, only a few millimetres away from the door.

Why can’t I leave?! What did he do? She skimmed through her memories, remembering that he had instructed her not to go. And now like an obedient pup, I’m listening to him?!! She gritted her teeth with a smile, slowly understanding what was happening. Despite the revelation, she backed away from the door, set her suitcase comfortably to the side and neared the window. She looked around and paused. “What a waste” she grumbled, picking up a beautiful vase decorated in the corner.

Ensuring she was a safe distance away, she raised her hands wielding the vase and tried to throw it against the window, but the vase never left her hand. Like a vice grip, her fingers tightly held onto the ceramic décor. “Ughhhh…fuckkkkinggggg hell” she raged, tempted to throw the vase on the floor, but resisted, setting it carefully down before resuming her venting. Stupid Supernatural vampire blood-sucking mind controlling vampire- She drawled silently, her painful efforts to lug the suitcase all the way down the stairs flashed in her mind.

When her anger had diffused slightly, she groaned realising she had to return the suitcase and the jewellery, lest he find out. After tearfully putting everything away, she spent the next few hours trying to find loopholes to his instructions. To her luck, she uncovered that she could throw tiny objects, a piece of paper, a hair tie, a pen. Anything that wouldn’t allow her a hole big enough to make any attempts of escape.

If I chop off my hand, would I be able to throw it if its no longer a part of me? She entertained creative and fantastical thoughts in favour of lightening her mood. The lack of things to do granted her some time to think over her situation. Ok add mind control to his already long list of powers she cried. That, speed, strength, transformation? She recalled the transition of his eyes to black and his teeth to sharp fangs.

Her hands trailed to her pocket "I doubt this will do much." She thought to throw away the knife, but instead found herself gripping it harder. Just in case. She wandered around for a few more hours- searching through the different rooms and playing with different trinkets here and there, trying to store into her mind where everything expensive was for when she could escape.

Finally, she arrived at the room beside her own- Klaus’. She knocked, just in case he was actually there, before slowly entering the empty silent room. Unlike the other rooms, his balcony was left open with the cold breeze filling the room. But she knew she couldn't leave- not with the mind control in place, besides the jump off the balcony would surely leave her with a broken leg. 

As good chance as any to snoop and find out what kind of man I’m going to be breaking bread with. She skipped eagerly towards the furniture’s, opening each drawer with both anticipation at discovering her kidnappers secret, and equal fear of being discovered by him. She flicked indifferently over the piles of art materials- brushes, paints and the like, only pausing when she came upon an old wooden toy- an amateur’s craft. In the corner of the toy, she saw a redish-brown stain- possibly blood from the carving process she assumed. She snickered, picking up the toy with her index and thumb, avoiding the stain, and recalling the distasteful tapestry from before.

“Almost a crime to keep something this ugly in this mansion…” She examined it again, closer before scoffing, throwing the carving aside and continuing to search. “I might be offended by your remark had I intentioned for it for your eyes.” Klaus smirked, leaning on the doorway. Wren had her back turned to him, allowing her to hide her panic. She collected herself before turning around, no indication of guilt on her face. She stayed silent, preferring not to admit her offence but rather, to hear his charges before denying them and defending herself.

“You won’t even care to at least try to come up with a poor excuse for pilfering about in my room?” His brow raised as slowly walked towards her. Wren closed the cupboard behind her, trying to hide what neither could deny but, at least it wouldn’t serve as a visual reminder of her misconduct. “Honestly? I was lost?” She less confessed but asked questioningly, before seeing his disappointed look. “You know, I could be the best liar in the world and still, something about you-“ Your enduring paranoia, she held her tongue. “Tells me you wouldn’t believe me,” she smiled, offering him a compliment in place of an apology.

“Then it seems my mistrust was rightly placed, little thief. I suppose, a punishment is in order. You’re lucky I’m not a man of tradition, otherwise as tradition dictates, I’d separate your hands from the rest of you.” He chuckled momentarily, reminiscing memories of crude sanctions of the past. Tradition?? Yeah, back in the middle ages maybe. She thought, expressing the absurdity before remembering that he was a vampire- a thousand year old one. Shit.

He flashed in front her, instantaneously reaching for her. Wren doubted the likelihood of being killed. Holding tightly onto that hope, she stilled, remembering her fathers lessons that it was better better to accept one blow then dodge and get more. She tensed her jaw and muscles expecting a blow. Instead, her eyes widened in surprise when she felt his hands trailing her down to the pocket of her pants. She flinched, moving back and hitting the drawers behind her. “What-…” she gasped, before calming down as she realized his intentions.

“Could’ve just asked me? Or mind controlled like you did before” Her brows furrowed, taking the opportunity to expose his earlier compulsion. His hands left the pocket of her jeans and now, strayed to her jacket. He gifted a chuckle at the term used. “It’s called compulsion. Mind control sounds rather comical.”

“My point stands.” She tensed, again willing her body to still, if only to have the offending touch conclude as quickly as possible. “I find this approach much more favourable.” He grinned. He moved back satisfied that he’d not found anything.

When he moved far away enough, Wren reached into her pocket smugly. “Think the correct term is perverse and not very efficient either.” She snipped, pulling out an old fountain pen she had pocketed. “I shall have to do a thorough check then it seems.” He reached towards her. Her smile fell, immediately regretting her actions. Though only this time, with awareness of what he trying to do, she harmlessly smacked his hand away.

“I don’t have anything else,” she glared back firmly. He raised both his hands in the air as though in surrender. “You’re the one caught thieving and yet, you look like you’ve been wronged.” Her jaw tightened as she watched him in silence before nearing past him towards the door. She paused as she heard him ruffling through the drawers. “I haven’t seen this in ages…peculiar that it caught your eye.” He picked up the wooden toy carving. 

“I believe the word I used was ugly” She mused, forgetting her restraint. Just as the words left her tongue, she turned to see Klaus no longer entertained with their banter. He raised a brow, likely going through all the different ways he would kill her.

 Ah, wrong move. She gulped, nearing him at any attempt to calm the vampire’s rage. She eyed the toy in his hands, the careful hold he had on the figure. She presumed its sentimental value. “The poor lighting in this room doesn’t do justice to this marvellous creation no doubt carefully crafted by an artistic genius.” Her words did little to compensate for her screw up. She cleared her throat, reading into the way his eyes sorrowfully traced the figure. Again, the copper stain struck out to her. “it’s admirable…” She surprised herself at the genuineness in her words. Admirable? Really!! That was the best I can do?! After upsetting him.

“Sorry.”

Klaus chuckled. “It seems your survival instincts do yet exist.” He held it carefully- unlike the brash and indifferent way it had been held earlier by Wren. Discomforted by the unusual vibe in the air, Wren studied him, his eyes revealed a memory- one veiled and blurred by time and loss. She stayed silent feeling like she could not leave, not do anything to disturb the scene before her- of Klaus adorned with a soft smile, it was like seeing a rare full eclipse. 

“I made this in my youth, a few summers younger than you,” He continued, not bothering to make eye-contact.

Explains the poor craftwork She thought, slightly smiling as she envisioned a boy Klaus, far different from his current mighty self, struggling with the carvings.

“I’d spend all my time carving animals and gift it to my siblings. You see,” he looked away from the toy and up at Wren, “During our time, there was not much for kids to occupy themselves with. Not as you youths do now,” he chuckled.

“Yes, so I’m frequently reminded.” She recited “the older generation had to play with rocks and were not as privileged.” Raising a brow, “but I didn’t expect a thousand-year-old vampire to hold the same disgruntlement” She snickered lightly, earning a playful smile from Klaus before his light-hearted smile faded, replaced with anger and fear. “My father though, he did not take to me carving- a sign of weakness that he thought to beat out of me every time he caught me carving.”   

The music of their laughter died instantly, leaving a suffocating silence. Great, the murdering kidnapper vampire is sharing his tragic past She held her thoughts and continued to indulge his momentary openness to his past.

“Why did you continue carving? I should take giving up a hobby over a lashing any day” She reminisced how she’d sacrificed much for the chance to live, to be free of her father’s anger, the things she’d left behind gifted by her late mother, the brother she’d abandoned to secure her own survival. To her, the consequence of being remiss of one’s hobby seemed the least of her concerns. A bitter taste flooded her mouth, she chapped her lips a few times. Deep in her, she was conflicted, she did not regret leaving everything behind, even parts of herself for a future. But every so often, she’d be reminded of her guilt- her younger brothers haunting eyes- his innocent naïve eyes wondering when she would come back. No, it was not hers to bear, she wanted to live, she’d protected him for as long as she could, she was sure if she stayed any longer, she’d have died. I had no- no. I had a choice and I made it and that was it. Ther-

“Because he’d beat me all the same,” Klaus’ voice registered in her, he smiled solemnly, his hands traced the chipped edges of the carving.

Wren had not noticed but she had drawled closer to the door, to leave, an instinctual desire to be removed from the shared pains. The worst outcome was succumbing to threats of her own dysfunctional family drama spilling from the box she had very carefully shut it in. A cold wave washed over her. Whatever she felt before. Whatever momentary delusion or vampire compulsion that had forced her to admire him was cleansed, only anger and annoyance was directed at him, who had incited, given life to old memories. She did not want to bond with her captor about their childhood trauma- nor tend to each other’s wounds.    

She scoffed in derisively, leaving to exit the door. She looked back, seeing the fearsome hybrid no longer as tall or big or frightening as she’d remembered him. He appeared vulnerable traversing through memory lanes of abuse and neglect carefully cemented by time, crouching over the wooden figure protectively.

She closed her eyes, it would not do for her to pity him, even a little, especially as he’d threatened her at every whim to kill her. She felt safe, safer keeping the line drawn between them- as captor and hostage, perhaps even companions but not anything closer. A tragedy indeed but not rare She recited his words in her mind- a silent response to him, before closing the door, leaving vampire to wallow in his own sorrow.

The walk back to her room seemed different. The picturesque, enviable mansion she had favoured before now seemed somewhat of a sham…a pale imitation of something. The wide sturdy hallway- even with the countless paintings of people from another time, seemed suffocating with his hallow and icy ambience. The feeling of slowly deteriorating from the inside made more prominent by the large glimmering chandelier, casting fragmented reflections of light on the walls, furthered the sense of the walls coming apart- the shadows moulding to tears in the wallpaper. A resounding smack carried in the still air. Wren’s winced, having smacked herself out of melancholy harder than intended. What am I even saying? This mansion is a dream come true. She forced herself to look around.

I bet the everything costs a fortune. More money that I’ll ever see. So, what if the chandelier makes the walls look torn? Just turn on all the lights. Get rid of the chandelier. Buy another- I’m sure it’s in his budget. Change the paintings to something more eye-catching- open the god damn windows. Just get a pet- Ah…is that what he wants? Am I, his pet? Is he lonely…what am I saying? Of course, he is, a thousand-year-old vampire doomed to roam the world. A smile of newly found hope overshadowed her previous gloom, suppose if he likes me enough, he won’t kill me. How…She searched for the correct words, her eyes widening in finding it. Boring…anticlimactic. The serial killer vampire kidnapper only wants a friend.

She pondered returning to Klaus to offer a listening ear, to provide him with a reprieve from himself. She paused, leaning against the wall, a few doors before her bedroom. Hmmm. No. I don’t want to seem like a try-hard. And plus, don’t want to risk overwhelming him… At least, now I know what he wants. I’ll do the rest tomorrow. She continued to her room, an unconscious skip in her gait. She looked around her room, pacing around her room, admiring everything again. Good food, an awesome place, a bath- an actual bath!! And all I have to be is a friend. She hummed, closing the bathroom door and sank blissfully into the warm bath.

Chapter Text

To wren, the concept of time at the estate seemed obsolete. She woke when she wanted and slept on the same principle. Food, money, and whatever else she desired in the moment, could be obtained simply through making a request to one of many attendants at the estate. Even the attendants were perfect; Initially, she found this odd, that she would not catch even one break a glass, pocket a few expensive vases or be caught lazing on the job- all things she would definitely do on the job. Her confusion was finally cleared, when in Klaus’ absence, she tried to engage with a few of them, only to be met with a robotic explanation about their job requirements or to ask if she had any directions. It was then and few other instances, that she gathered the attendants were under Klaus’ compulsion. Slaves was her first thought and Klaus their master. This revelation produced initial discomfort, possibly even guilt in Wren, but was easily dismissed on account of her having quickly embraced a lifestyle of opulence and convenience. Days passed, as did her tolerance, unknowingly, she had observed and consumed Klaus’ treatment towards of the individuals as mere objects.

Despite the luxury of her new lifestyle, she was still, discreetly of course, looking for ways to escape Klaus’ compulsion. The present morning, she had formed a plan- one that could only take place with Klaus gone. Upon hearing the confirming click of the front door closing, she exited her bedroom and waited an hour- 10am, when she knew the attendants- the one she wanted to talk to, would come to clean.

“Marissa? Right?” she approached the youngest attendant, a few years older than her likely. Wren studied the girl, wondering why Klaus chose her, when all the other attendants were older men or women in their 50’s.

“Y-yes, miss Wren?” the rosy cheeked brunette, turned to Wren, her one hand holding a set of keys to the maintenance room.  Wren hid her cringe at the term. Miss Wren sounds. It seemed too formal for her. She smiled through her aversion to the term, remembering in distaste the attendants referral to Klaus as ‘master’ or ‘lord’. That’s one way to up your power trip She had no doubt Klaus compelled them to refer to him as such.

Wren silently observed Marissa. She saw how the other girl grew evidently more discomfortable as Wren’s silent gaze endured. It began with the fiddling of the keys, avoidance of eye-contact, and stammering. “Have I done something wrong? Am I in trouble?” Marissa asked, gulping.

 “No, it just that I thought we could talk..." She slowly, her words laced with an unsure tone. "Klaus doesn’t get many visitors and we’re the only ones here around that that know how to work an iPhone.” Wren plastered a half-unsure smile, waiting for any cues of warmth from the other girl.   

A poorly veiled chuckle escaped Marissa, “Miss Wren!! Don’t say that. They could hear you.”

Wren closed the gap between them, mirrored her smile. “That wouldn’t be good, would it?” her hands zipped her mouth close, keeping a watchful eye for others as though they were colluding. 

Marissa’s shoulders relaxed, her guard lowered and the keys no longer jangling in the air. “Hey, you joined the crew recently, didn’t you?” Wren probed, seeing the other girl tense. She quickly added, “Just asking because, I’m also in the same boat. I know I’m Klaus guest but, he is so clumsy- always has been. Anyway, he forgot to introduce me to everyone and now, every time I walk past Bert,” she motioned towards a older male attendant, walking away from them and towards the kitchen.

“I don’t know how to actually say hi and not make it weird.” Wren’s gaze fell to the marble floor. “Thought you’d understand since we’re both kind of new-its  jus-”

“I get it. Completely. I was so nervous when I first got here. But everyone here’s been really nice to me and I’m sure they’ll be the same to you,” Marissa quickly became enthusiastic and gave Wren’s hand an assuring squeeze. Wren smiled, returning the pressure. “Thanks. I think it would help, if I knew something about them, so I have something to talk to them about. You know?”

“Well. I’m a bit busy at the moment. And my breaks not until 3-”

“Great news. You usually clean the first-floor bedrooms, right? Yeah, Klaus said to let you guys know that he was airing the room out and, until then it wouldn’t need any more work. I haven’t told the others but if you don’t, I won’t either. Then you’ll get to spend the time with me” Wren gave a mischievous smile.

Marissa contemplated her thoughts, uncertain on what to do. Wren awaited her decision, careful not to push further in worry of triggering the compulsion Klaus had possibly set in her- though Wren doubted it as Marissa seemed different…more unenchanted than the others. “Ok. Thanks. I was feeling a bit tired today anyway.”

Wren pulled her by her hand, leading her upstairs to her room. Upon entering her room, she urges the other girl to sit beside her on the couch, biscuits already prepared on the table. Marissa seemed a bit awed about the situation but situated herself comfortably.

Wren already had questions in store to ask but didn’t want to overwhelm Marissa or turn it into an interrogation- an unsuccessful one at that. “Thanks, I really appreciate this. I’d be great getting to know the others. Especially, Bert,” she chuckled, placing the biscuits closer to Marissa.

Marissa smiled, “once, you get to know him, Bert’s just like my dad. I mean, a dad. I mean, he’s just nice and fatherly.” She coughed; her fumbled words made eating the biscuits more challenging.

“I get it. He does give an old-ish dad vibe, doesn’t he?” she laughed, along. “Oh and, how long’s he been working for Klaus?” Wren asked, casually.  She had been desperate to know how long the compulsion would last and whether there were any conditions attached to it.

“Nearly 2 years now,” Marissa took another biscuit, pausing to think before biting into the cream fulling. 2 years!! Wren pursed her mouth to prevent it from gaping in shock. 2 years!! I’m stuck here for 2 whole years…Her mind quickly began listing the pros and cons of that future.

“Wren?” Marissa quizzed; her brows cinched in worry.

“Yeah. No, 2 years is a long time. Tell me, he’s been working here the longest?” she silently pleaded.  

“Yep. He is. So, if you want to get chummy with the others, start with him. He’ll know more about them than me.” Marissa smiled; a few crumbs fell on her chin. Wren reached forward, wiping it away. Her eyes skimmed past a silver necklace adorned on the girl’s neck- inside it a chamber with a dried purple flower and clear liquid of some kind. Does he compel them one by one? That doesn’t seem likely. Not for someone with his impatience. Can he compel more than one person at a time?  

“He may know more. but I trust you more,” she smiled, innocently. Marissa, flustered, gave a nervous laugh.  

“Though if he were to introduce me, I’d like to meet everyone at the same time. Does Klaus organise any weekly or monthly staff meetings?” Wren asked, surmising that he was compelling them at the same time. 

“How did you know?” Marissa asked, simply.  

“Well, I did my research. I mean, I do want to get along with everyone. Have you attended those meetings?” Wren asked, confused as to why Marissa didn’t present robotically as the others did.

Marissa withdrew with a guilty expression. “To be honest, I shouldn’t tell you this.” She looked hesitantly at Wren, but continued, “I went once and it was kind of weird. Kl- the master made a weird announcement…something about how all we had to do was come to work on the weekends, forget everything once we leave the estate and only remember when we return. I thought it was a prank or something since I was new. Like a hazing.” Marissa shrugged; the weight of the information released from her shoulders.  Wren stared at the brunette, astounded at her lack of awareness. She didn’t dislike Marissa, in fact, she even liked her, she would’ve been the perfect sucker if Wren was still going around conning others like she did in her past. Why didn’t the compulsion work on her!! How is she different?

By the time their discussions had finished, the biscuits were no more, and Wren had concluded there was nothing else of substance to draw out from Marissa. “Oh, it’s nearly 3pm. You have to go on break, don’t you? sorry about that,” Wren smiled, subtly ushering the girl out of her bedroom.

“It’s ok, Wren.” She smiled, looking knowingly at Wren.

“Thank god, one less person calling me Miss,” Wren chuckled. “I’ll catch you next weekend, I’ll have more biscuits by then.”

“Thanks, it was fun.” Marissa smiled, turning to leave. Wren quickly grasped her hand as Marissa turned, “Oh and you’ll let me know if you hear anything around the estate, right?” She winked.

“Yeah, of course. By the time, I’m done, you’ll know everyone and everything about this estate,” Marissa chuckled. “I’m holding you to it.” Wren called out, seeing the brunette’s frame disappear down the stairs. She closed her bedroom door, sat on her bed, and tried to compile her thoughts. To organise everything, she knew about Klaus and his powers. More importantly, his current hold on her. The fact of her life depending entirely on Klaus’ whims didn’t sit comfortably with her. Even if, she had negotiated some assurances of her life with him, she wasn’t foolish enough to believe him or anyone really, if her life was at stake.

Soon after her arrival, they had reached an understanding that Klaus would draw blood from Wren through a needly once every week. Initially, he drank straight from her neck, but after much bargaining and promises of obedience, he acquiesced to her requests. To avoid the pain of his fangs and discomfort at having someone so close to her, she even volunteered to draw her blood on her own and hand Klaus the bag every week. While this offer amused him, he declined without offering an explanation. Hence, on the Sunday of every week, when the attendants had returned to her homes, she would meet him in his study and he would draw her blood. At times, he drank immediately, but other times, he walked off with her blood bag.     

Wren sat up. Her mind was overloaded with information. She moved to her desk and turned on her computer- the one she had requested. She went through her saved documents- found only after going past filler folders. She had written all the research she had done and surmised into the single document- made copies and uploaded them one should she need another copy. She fervently updated her notes based on the information Marissa unknowingly provided. Even with the information neatly ordered on the document, and presentable, she paused seeing the 6 pages. Why am I playing detective? Ugh. Curiosity killed the cat, didn’t it. Why am I even doing this? when he can just compel me to delete it in a single command. Do I do nothing, then? Shouldn’t I be trying to escape, at least?!!

She looked around her room, new clothes, gears, and devices. Everything she ever wanted. Then her gaze strayed outside- the weather was especially sublime; the sun granted its warmth and light to everything. She was content with exchanging her blood for this. This life of luxury. She knew she could’ve been doing more to fight Klaus- to resist the compulsion maybe. She sighed, but for what? To go back there?! She looked outside, no longer as entranced with the outside world. It’s sunny now, but what about when it rains. Storms. Do I have to sleep and wander the streets again… is that what I want? Is staying with a thousand old vampire that only asks for my blood once a week, really that bad? Worse than the other criminals on the streets…  

Wren scoffed, slapping herself awake. Awake from all the thoughts purported by moral dilemmas that she’d not realised weighed her down- Klaus’ compulsion of the attendants, his history of murdering, his kidnapping of her and whatever else crime that can be done in a thousand years. Nope. She concluded with firmly. Klaus was not worse than everything else out there. Perhaps he was to some- to the attendants, to his victims, but not to her. As long as their weird arrangement stood, she would be fine.

Wren nodded to the air. I’ll do as I have been doing. Stay in my cosy room, taking baths, drinking, sleeping and smoking. He can take my blood, once a week, what do I care as long as he doesn’t take it directly. She shuddered automatically, recalling his sharp fangs on their first meeting. I’m only slightly anaemic afterwards, but not like I’m going anywhere. She chuckled. I’ll forget that Klaus disappears days on end and comes home sometimes with blood on his clothes and a cold smirk. I also wont read into it. An image flashed into her mind, of the three wise monkeys- one veiling his eyes, another shielding his ears and the last, covering his mouth- all attempts to see no evil. She wasn’t sure, if that was her mind guiding her on what to do or shaming her, nor she did she have the energy to find out.

Instead, she closed the documents, and surfed the web. After Klaus had an account opened for her, she had embraced every material whim- buying whatever she wanted with little restraint or certainty hat she actually wanted the shirt or dress or plant- all of which were delivered to her door. Not the entrance door, but bedroom door- the attendants handiwork.  

“I should stop, honestly. Buying just for the sake of being able to buy. I almost can’t recognise you,” she caught herself in the computers reflection and laughed, clicking a few buttons to place the cute mug into her online trolley.  Wren had always held disdain towards romanticists who preached that material wealth didn’t bring happiness. Obviously, they didn’t desire enough things, they hadn’t begun with a hunger that she had, a voracious appetite gnawing away at her from young, one that was never satiated, only watching others. Despite her firm stance, she did catch herself a few times, reminiscing to her past. Then she would hide with her brother under the cluttered table of beer bottles, leftover food and stained cigarette packets, in hopes of evading their fathers sight. To fuse with the trash, cringe into themselves to take as space as possible, to become inanimate- all futile attempts, as in the end, their father always found them. Wren chuckled, we probably chose stupid hiding places…under the table, really! An image of a father seeing the fabric of his daughter’s pink sparkly dress, peak out from under the table where she hid with a gleeful smile pulsed in her mind. The same kitchen and the same actors, and yet, the image and her reality were so dissimilar, it drew an icy, contemptuous smirk to her face.

Chapter Text

As was her usual routine since residing at the estate, Wren awoke with a looming headache, propelled by an irresponsible indulgence in liquor and cigar; Both luxuries she had looted from one of the spare rooms. She stood from her bed, one hand placed at the edge of the bed, balancing her from falling, the other aggressively massaging her temples, attempting to physical erase the ache.

Her eyes peered to the large clock. 4pm…not bad, she commended herself. Straying from the clock, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror underneath the clock. A chortle escaped her, her eyes barely lit, her lips dry and cracked quenched with anything but water. Weary features crowned with her unkempt hair. I’d say it was worth it, her reflection nodded, reminding the bliss of the night prior. She had spent the night, as she did the other night, a bowl of popcorn on her lap, a drink in one and a cigar in the other, all while binge watching TV shows- none of which she could currently describe the plot to, but nevertheless faintly remembered with great fondness.

Her reflection squinted, trying to remember if Klaus had come home or not. A curiosity that stemmed, not from having developed any form of bond with the vampire, nor from desiring some level of companionship to counter the estates desolated haunting ambience, but rather it was when in the dark of the night, and the hallways were especially eerier, and she heard a door closing that she needed to confirm his presence and assuage childish fears of ghosts or whatever else that existed. Maybe not so childish anymore, she contemplated, giving her vampire roommate.

Aside from those moments, she didn’t involve herself with his whereabouts. She was comfortable with their distance. A wholly transactional relationship dependent on two currencies- blood and its age-old relation, money. Having lost herself in the estate’s amenities, she’d set aside the plan to cosy up to Klaus as his friend and secure herself a life of wealth and opulence. Though a part of her argued that she was being productive, she was making efforts to ensure her survival by simply staying out of Klaus’ way. By giving her one day a week, and all the other days, living as quiet as a mouse. He didn’t seek her out with blood-related purposes nor she him.

A grumble for food pulled her from her ruminations, her body’s desperate pleas for something other than liquor and snacks.  She heeded her body’s instructions, and with a sapped gait, she meandered to the kitchen. After helping herself to the neatly stored food made by the attendants, she took a stroll in the garden- a privilege, Klaus had awarded under presumptions of her continued obedience. An afternoon chill drew her back on the path to her bedroom. She paused in her tracks, seeing the door to the library open and a thin line of soft golden light peering outward.   

Is he here? She wondered, pushing the door slightly ajar and seeing Klaus’ leaning figure. His back was turned to her, seemingly engaged in a book.  Despite being fully engrossed in the literature, he appeared regal. Kingly Wren frowned, unnerved by her mind’s description. She tried to recall how he looked that day. A beast, a monster, she chanted, cleansing all other favourable perceptions of him in her head. Hopefully, recalling him as he was then, would serve to lengthen her survival, to remind her that despite their present cordial relations, she should not expect him to be bound by the same moral principles- or whatever was left of it, that silently warred inside her. The exact ones that prevented her from murdering another in cold blood. That made her at least hesitate before committing a crime. Unlike her, he was free of them, free of humanity, free to put himself above all else.

Am I jealous of him for that? The question throbbed at her shamefully. If she were as he was, perhaps then her crime of abandonment, of relinquishing familial obligations and betraying the only person she ever loved- her brother- would not haunt her as it did now. She quietly turned around, deciding it a more efficient use of her time to not indulge in such chimeric thoughts. A faint call of her name stirred her footsteps, Nope, I just imagined it, she prayed. She had confirmed that Klaus was home and was now, set on returning to her room.

“I can hear you trotting about,” Klaus’ voice called out, this time louder and said with more insistence. Wren groaned, biting down on her jaw to compose herself. She admonished herself silently for having made the stupid decision to come to the library. “I don’t trot” she grumbled, reluctantly entering the dimly lit room, only to pause a few steps from the threshold of the door, Klaus had turned around, book still in his hand. Wren looked around the room, one hand leaning against the doorframe. With a smile of surprise, she addressed him, “Klaus. You’re back?! I hadn’t realised. Well, I’ll see you around then” she opted for a quick getaway, turning to leave midsentence. The weekend had passed, and she had already given her blood, hence she found no other purpose to stay.

 “Come. Sit,” he instructed firmly, loudly closing the book in his hand.

Wren’s less than subtle exhale amassed a questioning gaze from the vampire, a hushed challenge for her to continue her defiance and test his patience. Wren sat on the sofa chair opposite to Klaus, her annoyance at herself for walking into the lion’s den and him for being him, faltered easily. Klaus stayed silent, observing Wren as she loudly shuffled around in her seat, trying to find whatever comfort that was possible for a human sitting beside a vampire.

Finally, surrendering hopes of any comfort, she cleared her throat, waiting for Klaus to begin the conversation and end it on his own accord.  Instead, his silence endured, causing Wren to spiral into guessing why he had called for. What does he want? Does he know something…Is it the jewellery? Did he find the suitcase? Does he know I talked to Marissa? What did she tell him? Despite wearing a calm face outwardly, Wren was toiling away trying to decipher his reason for calling her. Seeing the fruitlessness of their current situation, she stood from the seat impatiently, gifting Klaus a tight-lipped smile. “Great talk. I’ll see you around.”

“Sit” he commanded, not even making the effort to make eye-contact with her. The surety in his voice that she would stay irritated her, almost provoked her to act contrary to his expectations. But then, she remembered that she wanted to live, so she set aside her stubbornness and abided by his words, slumping down on the seat. “What were you reading?” she inquired, half-heartedly feigning interest at the time-worn books, its pages not inhabiting the smooth and crisp look of a new book, but they were more like bedsheets coated and stiffened with starch.

He opened the book, the pages depicting floral-like images and written in a language she didn’t recognise. “Something tells me you wouldn’t know it,” he scoffed condescendingly.

I don’t want to know it either, but here we are, a mute retort. Instead, she laughed sardonically, if he was in a momentary state of insecurity, and wanted to affirm his power by mocking her, then be done with it. She was already worn out and this conversation only served to further her cravings for a smoke.

 “Haha” she laughed dryly, “a jab at my poverty-stricken upbringing, very original.” She squinted her eyes at him, hoping to hide her simmering anger. “Forgive me for not having had centuries to polish my learnedness.”

He glared at her sarcasm, dismissing them with an easy shrug “excuses.” He lightly tossed the book in hand to her.

“Valid excuses,” Wren corrected, catching the book. She flipped through the pages, a frown casted on her face. She closed the book and waved it around, “Besides, 400 pages of boring? No thank you.”  

“What’s not to like about literature? I’ve always enjoyed them- found them a great solace during times of turmoil “. His gaze fell to the table between them, an almost sombre look. She didn’t know how or when, but the air in the room seemed different, as if it didn’t belong to the estate or to its inhabitants. There was something honest about everything. Perhaps it was the dimly lit ambience, the only light from a single lamp, casting shadows on the outer fringes of their facial features, like secrets slowly crawling out without either of them knowing.  

“Unlike everything else, they, alone, seem to always have the power to make sense of everything.” He returned his gaze to her inquisitively, the previous sentiments compiled elsewhere in his mind.

“Th-they make you think. And I don’t want to think.” She revealed in a matter-of-factly. “In fact, I want to lie down and not think, for as long as I can get away with it.” She sank into her seat, relaxing her posture. She calmly wandered why she had confessed that to him. it wasn’t thing too profound, but it was a confession, nevertheless. Am I still drunk?

He smiled, a sad but understanding smile, “the virtue of ignorance is not one people like us are entitled to.”

His words drew her lips into a curl. “Really? And tell me, what is ‘people like us?” she returned softly, challenging him to draw similarities between himself- the vampire and her- the human.

He affixed his gaze on her, “We’re thinkers… by nature. Without the shade of ignorance, we guard ourselves with thoughts, doubts, and questions. It our weapon- sharpened to the tip. Best to hold onto it tight,” he advised.  

“A weapon against others? Sure. But sometimes…when alone, it feels the tip is pointed towards me. thinking, Doubting, paranoia, cynicism- all fashioned by my mind with myself as the target. Are we designed to self-destruct? To successfully guard against everyone else, only to wither away by our own means. It all sounds…” she contemplated, searching for the correct word.

“Exhausting.” He finished. Wren looked to him. Yes, exhausting. “Debilitatingly so,” she added, the two sympathising with one another. Despite all promises, Wren felt something for the vampire. Something genuine. To know that he had lived like this. No, with this, she corrected, this ailment they both shared, only he for a thousand years more than her,

Her heavy lids draped a touch, she leaned backwards onto the chair, seeking to cling onto the small bit of warmth- a rare experience in the estate. A moment of silence pregnanted the room, she wondered if he was also tired or if he was allowing her some rest. A theory she quickly dismissed, chuckling as she recalled that he was a vampire and didn’t get physically tired. His brow raised, not an interrogative gesture as was usual, but rather a questioning one- as though one were waiting for another to share a joke.

“You know, a few months of knowing each other, and I still don’t know you… Say, how old are you? were you? before you turned?”

“22.” He spoke curtly, hesitant to delve further into his time as a human. A sliver of suspicion blanketed his previously eased disposition before again, fading upon rationalising that she was weak. Even if she had knowledge of his past, of his weaknesses, at the end, he was superior to her in every way that mattered. He could simply snap her neck in a heartbeat and be done with it. A threat so insignificant, he hesitated to call her that.

“What about you?” he asked, having guessed that she had not been wholly truthful with him before. Despite his suspicions, he did not make the effort to compel the information out of her, because he did not care to. Her age was irrelevant. Before. Yet now, he wanted to know. He wanted some truth from her, without being compelled.

She recalled the countless TV shows she had binged days earlier. “16 and I’m only telling you that so, if we’re ever on a game show, and they ask about our age, we won’t look like total idiots” she mused, before settling a serious expression. “Just think, that question to could cost me-us 10 million dollars.”

“I wondered what you were doing in your room. Now, I see that you were planning your mastermind idea of winning drab game shows.” He chortled.

She shrugged his comment, “I like blue- not baby blue, but more an azure blue. I think I prefer the forest over the ocean. I-” she continued listing, almost expecting Klaus to take notes in preparation for the imagined game show. Klaus allowed her to ramble on, trying not to retain pointless prattles of her likes and dislikes. Much to his dismay, he was sure, some things would stick in his mind, like gum. The more he tried to pry off his knowledge of her liking forests over oceans, dogs over cats, movies over books and more, the more it would cling onto him.

“Now, what about you? Anything I should know? We need to win…with that much money, you could change your life- you could buy another mansion and add it to your 6 other mansions- a collectible.” she propositioned.  

He rolled his eyes but stopped to think of something to share- nothing too close to him nor too distant to the conversation. “Painting has been a favourite past time of mine since young,” he offered.

“Yes, that I picked up,” she said, remembering the large canvas’s accommodating the unused guest rooms. “Painting, classical music, jazz, reading, loyalty, subordination from others, power, a HEALTHY dose of suspicion and paranoia- HEALTHY,” she emphasised, placatingly.  

“You picked up all that? “He asked, suspiciously.

“See, HEALTHY,” she smiled, chuckling.

“Hm…what should we do if they ask…” She cleared her throat, mimicking the middle-aged host/presenter of a game show. “Now, Mr Mikaelson, tells us and the audience. “Klaus grinned at her winsome smile, entertained by her childish ploys. “Tell us, what Did You Want to Be When You Were a Child?” she held an invisible microphone and pointed it towards Klaus.

He paused, “my father was a warrior. I for one never cared for it, and instead, I aspired to wield a weapon of a different kind- a pen as a poet and a brush as a painter. My mother encouraged such pursuits but, all innocent efforts were inevitable against my father’s persistence and wrath.”

Well, what a downer, Wren grimaced at his depressing childhood, preferring not to have heard it. Nonetheless, she revelled in having more information, more to decode the vampire before her, who after a few drinks on a calm night, apparently felt sentimental enough to disclose intimate experiences with her. I’m sobering she thought, a part of her regretful at the conclusion. She had without intention or deceptive ploy, enjoyed his company. In return for sharing her age other her menial information, she had learned more of him.

Klaus stood up. Ah, guess we’re done here, she surmised, also standing up. A mischievous smirk threatened to show. She picked up the book, set down on the table- the same one he had been reading. She gasped, her eyes widening as though in recognition. Klaus looked at her sceptically, though in anticipation at her reaction.

“Thi-this,” her eyes moved from the book to Klaus’ expecting gaze. “You’re right. I don’t know it after all,” an infectious smile appeared as she chuckled, nearing the door. Klaus scoffed, trying to restrain his amusement as Wren yawned, before mumbling a goodnight and disappearing into the dark hallway. 

Chapter Text

Wren impassively scrolled through her phone, bored of being bored. She tuned in to the outside- a sunny afternoon and a welcome change from the dull wet weather of the days prior. Since their conversation in the library, the two seemed to occasion upon one another more often. Neither actively seeking the other, but somehow, still found themselves in the others presence in the library- a safe neutral ground without kidnapper and kidnappee, but almost companions of sorts to ward off the incessant boredom, promised to Klaus- an immortal being unmoved by most human wants, and to Wren- a child who has been bestowed the means to satisfy all whims. Despite their shared tedium, Klaus was better able to reign his in, on account of having had a thousand years to learn to tolerate the mundanity of life and his preoccupation with planning the demise of his many enemies. Hence, Wren, on the other hand, as a means of finding any entertainment, seemed to be one initiating their conversations- a late night tête-à-tête that was welcomed by the original.

Wren wondered where the original vampire had gone off to. It was usual for him to make himself scarce during the day. Wonder what Marissa’s up to, she pondered. Despite her initial objectives to use Marissa, she found that after a few more queries, Marissa was as she presented, plain and innocent. With her newfound knowledge of Marissa’ uselessness to her cause, Wren tried to elude the brunette, though this task proved difficult as Marissa appeared to have developed a fondness for her. Wren’s guard faltered against Marissa’s insistence and genuineness; a combination of which, slowly led to them forming a friendship. She had made a friend, an albeit unreliable one. Wren chuckled fondly in the privacy of her room, recalling Marissa’s poor aptitude for cleaning and wondering how she secured a position at Klaus’ estate. A strange serendipity of the employment of a sweet thing as her to an estate of evil and immorality.  

Despite their short acquaintance, Marissa had admonished Wren on several occasions, like an older sister, for living as a recluse with the company being whatever substances she had on hand. Wren laughed, when Marissa had even gone as far as expressing her frustration at the other attendants and Klaus for allowing Wren- an underage youth to drink and smoke. Had anyone else scolded her for the same, Wren was sure she would’ve been put off, offended that someone so clean and pristine would condemn her actions, her self-medicating against the guilting nightmares.  

But with Marissa, it was different. Her words, the same words Wren had heard before from others, sounded different. They were without judgement and shame- a much needed reprieve for Wren. Instead, Marisa’s reprimanding reminded her of when she’d prevent her brother from ingesting whatever was left in their father’s beer bottles while he slept, passed out from the drink’s effects. Though in her case, Wren would secretly drink it up without her brother’s knowledge under guise that it was easier to remove the drink by drinking it than to continually monitor her brother. Again, Wren chortled, imagining Marissa secretly taking a swig of the countless bottles stored in the dining room, all while telling Wren off for drinking and not partaking in outdoor activities as others her age did.

Wren’s eyes widened in remembrance, she looked to the floor to see an unopened package- the same ones she had ordered a few days ago. She huffed, filled with determination and resoluteness, and opened the bag, changing into the new attire.

She paced downstairs, a skip in her steps, clothed and tools in hand. She paused her unconscious humming, her ears perked hearing ruffling in Klaus’ art room. He’s here. The door was ajar, she peaked inside seeing Klaus’ broad back. He appeared to blend into the background like an artwork, the open-window veranda, with transparent curtains billowing in the wind. Very picturesque. Had she not been privy to knowledge of his vampire nature, she would’ve likened him to an angel. 

With the assurance of his good mood, she knocked, pushing open the door wider without awaiting for any confirmation from Klaus. She knew he had heard her.

 “Morning,” she cheered, Klaus turned, enabling her vision of the canvas.

“Afternoon,” he corrected wryly, prompting Wren to check her phone. 2pm.

Wren scoffed playfully, “you know, I’m starting to think I’m the better vampire…cause honestly, an early bird vampire? How scandalous!!” she feigned a horrified gasped, leading Klaus to roll his eyes humorously. Wren smiled, pocketing her phone, and walked towards the garden, waving off a snarky retort from Klaus.  

She scanned over the large expanse of land, before pausing to the half completed rose garden. This should be enough evidence that I wasn’t holed up in my room the whole time. The image of Marissa admiring the rose garden spurred her onwards and before she knew it, she was knee deep in soil, one hand clasping a spade and the other, scrolling through gardening tips.

“That’s a good look on you.”

She turned to the loud disturbance, abandoning the spade in favour of blocking the sun from her eyes. Klaus was on the second-floor balcony, warranting Wren to squint in order to see him clearly. With a drink in hand and a smug smile, Klaus pointed to his cheek, before laughing.

Wren stared blankly, unmoved by his childish teasing. She smudged the sleeve of her shirt over her cheek and returned to gardening. She paused, feeling a wave of wind. Klaus had vamped down, few feet away, careful not to stain his clothing. With an exasperated sigh, she turned her attentions to him, rubber tight smile.

He peered over her form, a disgusted look at seeing that the smudge of dirt had travelled from her cheek to her forehead.

“I’m gardening, what do you expect?” she busied herself.

He stood silently, almost interested in the gardening process. “Didn’t fancy you to appreciate gardening?” he remarked inquisitively at the contradiction.

“Well, neither did I.” She shrugged, wiping a building layer of sweat off her forehead.  The pair stayed in silence as Klaus watched Wren continue, she easily ignored him and went about enacting the tutorial she’d watched online.

“I wasn’t aware, the manor had gardening attire or tools.” He noted, seeing her in an overall and sun hat.

A smirk tugged at her face. Her hands zipped towards the nearby pitchfork “sorry, I’m so inconsiderate. You probably don’t want to this around…what with your history and all,” she jested, waving the tiny pitchfork in the air in between them, her laughter slowly died down, seeing Klaus unimpressed.   

“Why the sudden interest?” he asked frankly, “you’re not one to seek unnecessary tasks,” he studied her crouching form, “to quote, why do more when you can do less?”

Before Wren could respond dismissively, Klaus intercepted, “trying everything you didn’t have the privilege to before?” he asked, remembering a familiar pattern of behaviour from another child he had raised.

“Wow, you get that from volume 2 of poor orphans for dummies?” she grinned, slightly surprised, and amused at his insight. It seemed strange to conceive the idea that an immortal creature such as he, could understand the mechanisms of thought of a poor deprived child. It was more consistent, more fitting that an inhuman creature as he, could only corrupt the innocent and bask in their pain. But instead, here the vampire was, capable and understanding of a human boy’s woes. Guess his dad really was that bad, wren surmised, thinking that only his father’s abuse during his human life would’ve allowed his current insight.

“Experiential knowledge,” he confirmed with a cold smile, remembering both his own childhood experiences and another boy, both enslaved by their father’s hatred.

“Well, in this case, you’re wrong. That’s what happens when you rubber stamp every poor neglected kid. Besides, I still stand by my words,” she shrugged cavalierly, only bothering to explain when prompted by Klaus. “Not gardening is not doing less, it’s doing nothing. But gardening with a cute uniform, expensive tools and online tutorials is doing less and we get to have a nice garden at our home.”  

“Our home?” he repeated, smug at having caught her slip of the tongue.

“Mi casa, Su casa or Su casa, Mi casa,” she quipped. Only after the words had enough time to register, that she realised she’d inadvertently called this place, her home.  Our home, she corrected herself, panic slowly rising. Why did I say our home!!! Great, now he thinks I think we’re- what are we? Roommates? Playing house?

She continued gardening, the spade increasingly ruffling through the soil harder. Forgetting he was still behind her, she turned subtle indicating for him to leave. “Oh, and I have a list of other things I want to do and buy. So, while, you’re heading in, stop by at the library,” She advised, despite Klaus not having given any indication of their conversation concluding. “You might find a book on the top 10 things all orphans want to do,” she finished.

Klaus scoffed at her poorly veiled attempt to shoo him off. Even so, he turned to move, only then seeing the tiny cuts on her arms, her hands remained protected by the gardening gloves. The thorns of the roses had pricked her arms as she pruned them earlier- though she seemed negligent to them.

He sighed miffed, “Pace yourself. The roses won’t be going anywhere.”

She tilted her jaw, peering straight into his eyes. “Careful there…you’re almost implying that I’ll live long enough to enjoy this. Getting my hopes up,”

He could read the doubt in her eyes, the likelihood of a long life for her while residing with an immortal vampire. “Well, don’t be too quick to out yourself. Though you do smell delicious,” Klaus remarked, only now acknowledging the scent he had been trying to refrain from.

Wren looked down to the bleeding cuts decorated on her arms- imprints of the rose’s thorns. Should hide them from Marissa. She looked up to Klaus, “Hey, I’m baking under the sun, smeared in dirt and bugs. And now, I need to maybe wear a turtleneck to cover up my arms?!” she groaned, wiping the blood off the fresh cuts. The time passed as she continued gardening, occasionally she looked up, through the open veranda door, to see Klaus in his room pacing back and forth, on the phone with one of his many worker ants. Finally, the sun had begun to set, and she had done as much as she could be bothered to do. Hard work had never been her forte, nor resilience. Though, strangely, she saw these traits in a favourable light, if she wasn’t hard working by nature, then she couldn’t be working hard.

When all was done for the day, she returned to her bedroom. Klaus had gone off somewhere or rather, and with no one to keep her company, she hopped into jumped onto her bed. She laid on her rise, phone in hand, scrolling through endless Facebook posts before pausing upon an image. The account belonged to her aunt Bailey from her father’s side.

Wren gasped, her hand moving to cover her mouth. Her heart raced, the photo was of her father in his younger years, her and her brother. The caption wrote “He was a strong, caring person. He will be missed by all.”

Wren panicked, anxiously going through her aunts’ other posts. Please…don’t let it be Felix, she prayed, resting all her hopes on the mantra. “He was a dear brother, husband and father.” FATHER!! She nearly cried, never having wanted to hear those words more than now. Her brother, Felix was ok. He was ok. She let the thought marinate, settle into her shocked state.

More composed, she searched through the accounts of different family members- those who had their accounts public, in search of more information. He’s dead, she wasn’t sure how to process the information of her fathers passing. He’s really dead…Each comment providing condolences seemed to make reality of what she had thought of…hoped for… so many times. She couldn’t recall any fond memories with him, maybe there was a moment where he was free of booze and clear minded enough to remember he had to love his children, but she couldn’t remember it. As far as she was concerned, it didn’t happen. Her father wasn’t corrupted by alcohol, he wasn’t a victim to it. They were. She and her brother. Her brother…he must be living with our aunt. She’ll look after him. he’ll be fine with her. Not like I can bring him here to offer him to Klaus. That’s if he even wants to see me, she grimaced at the imagined rejection by her brother.   

She recalled the night she left, left everything, including him. Her father had been especially moody, pouring his grievances into the bottle. Felix had come home late- an easily dismissible thing on a normal day, but not that day. Wren went to bed that day, a blue eye and aching pain. She’d hold Felix to go spend the night at his friends house, and she’d deal with it, assured him that their father would be calmer in the morning. He had believed her, his older reliable sister, who’d always had his back. Unbeknownst to him, Wren awoke in the middle of night, possessed by her weariness and set to leave, to forget everything. She loved her brother, but she knew she could not last. She never wanted to be anyone’s shield, but she had been for as long as she could. Each time that her father had a fit of rage, her fingers trembled incessantly, a cold sweat would build up atop her nape, her stomach dropped in anticipation of what to expect, a broken hand, bruised back, blue eye, a concussion. She wanted to desperately hide and cower from her father’s rage but held herself back to protect her brother. Though at times, even she could not take all her fathers beatings, her brother would also be victim to their fathers anger, or what was left after venting on Wren. These moments brought a different kind of pain, one that screamed at her for failing Felix, for watching helplessly while her baby brother was beaten black and blue. Wren’s crying that night had awakened her father, who stormed to her room, eager to continue where he left off. Spurred by assurance that her brother was elsewhere safe, she defended herself, reaching for the nearest bottle and striking her fathers dad.

When she had realised what she’d done, she freaked, predicting the repercussions once her father awoke. When her brother returned, and her father’s anger had not eased away. Thoughts flooded in her mind, she looked down, hearing a moan of pain from her father who lie collapsed on the floor.  Wren dashed through the door, relying solely on her legs to take her away, like a robot with a set location. By the time, she awoke the following morning, she was elsewhere, an abandoned building where she had nested the night, and since, never looked back.

Wren shook her head. He’ll live a normal life with aunt bailey. Now that he’s dead, Felix will be fine. He can forget everything- his abusive dad, pathetic traitorous sister. She concluded, turning off her phone.  After a moment of pause, she stood, rummaging through her wardrobe, throwing th3e clothes into a pile on the floor. Underneath all the mess was a bag. She opened it slowly, seeing the different computer games she had bought for him, each one neatly wrapped. Would he even want these…what was I even thinking getting these? Just show up to his house and say hey, miss me, miss your sister who dipped when things got rough?!! She took out one of the games, discarding it roughly onto the floor. Stupid. Stupid. Tears welled in her eyes, her gaze burning into the gift on the floor. A teardrop fell on top of the wrapping paper, she wiped it away, then slowly reached for the discarded gift, gently picking it up, dusting it off and returning it into the bag with the others. 

Chapter Text

Wren awoke the following morning, splayed out on the carpeted floor with Felix’s presents surrounding her, the same way the twigs of a bird’s nest shield the fledgling inside. However, instead of feeling protected, the presents served to constrict her. Her muscles felt stiff and rigid, her eyelids, heavy, under the cascading sunlight from the forgotten veranda door, left open the whole night.  Wren shared the anxiousness of an amateur actor under the spotlight and the vulnerability of a patient atop the operating table, the incandescent surgical lighting blaring down on them. She allowed herself a moment to acclimate to the blinding light, and another moment to gather her bearings, and order her muscles to heed her orders to move. 

8am. She groaned. It was Sunday today. Marissa would be coming, she’d see the roses and know that Wren was listening to her, know that Wren had felt the warmth in her words, found courage, and let her in. That despite all her flaws- countless they were, she was capable of creating something good, something as simple and good as a rose garden.

Right? Wren remained on the floor, unable to gather the strength to move.  A single word of assurance, Right? flooded the gates of her mind with a torrent of vicious doubts. The thoughts felt heavier than anything, weighing her down, until it felt that the ground beneath her would collapse, and keep collapsing, until she reached an infinite vacuum. Only then, would she be wrenched from her physical body, leaving her bare, soul and spirit isolated.

Despite the impossibility of that reality, the way it would contradict all logic and reason, Wren inched away from the presents that surrounded her on all sides, the perfect circle, under which a trap door would reveal itself and cause her to fall through. Even after creating some distance, the illogical fear endured, simmering inside her, plaguing her unremittingly. Just like the day she ran, sporting nothing but what she had on. If only she could grow legs and run away from her thoughts. Wren chuckled sardonically at the irony, it was only now that she realised, there was no point in running because the thing that ate away at her was her. It was her that was broken, that was fractured. She had seen it before, but not recognised it. Not looked it in its face and studied its lines and edges.

What if she sees something? Wren panicked, unsure if she could school her emotions like before. What if she breaks today? Confesses her selfishness to Marissa. If her mask cracks…even a little. And Marissa sees through its crevices and finds out the bareness in Wren, the human abyss that consumes everything for itself, that would forgo all affections for others in place of her own corrupted desires.

Despite the usual promised merriment of Marissa’s company, Wren wanted to return to her bed, to hide from Marissa’s well intentioned, yet prying eyes.  She’d hibernate for the day, work on bandaging all the cracks in her façade with polished smiles and feigned cheer before seeing Marissa. Wren drew in an aged breath, before standing, and storing all the gifts back into her cupboard. Upon completion, she heard the bustle of attendants, arriving to work. She quickly escaped to her bed, eager to find sleep, she would feel less guilty avoiding Marissa through sleep. However, this plan was thwarted with the increasing and incessant noise of the attendants cleaning.

Wren wondered if Marissa was half-heartedly cleaning while thinking of her. Maybe, she thinks I’m sick. That’s good, then she won’t come. She won’t come. Wren repeated, wanting to be relieved at the news. She won’t come. And that’s good. Klaus is going to be home too. Wouldn’t be good if he sees me with her. He WILL find out that compulsion doesn’t work on her. Yes, it all works out, I’ll just do my own thing today and, she can go about her work. Wren tried to convince herself, before burying her face into the pillow; a poor attempt at ignoring conflicting thoughts of inviting Marissa to her room and forgetting the consequences.

She tightened the pillow around her, blocking out the sound of rummaging and cleaning- any evidence of Marissa being downstairs and yet, being unable to go see her. Even with the pillow clasped around her ears, the sounded of either the attendants’ cleaning or her own imagined sounds of hearing Marissa outside her door, penetrated through it. Fear of Marissa to see her as she was, drunk and angry and filled with self-loathing, accompanied her, one step behind her slow drift to sleep. The ceiling of her room faded into oblivion; the blanket covered her serene smile as she succumbed to the numbing relief that sleep awarded.   

Wren felt a soothing touch on her arm, and her eyes slowly opened, following the hand’s olive complexion to its owner- Marissa standing by her bedside, adorning a motherly smile. Marissa. Marissa!! She recognized the brunette maid and quickly sat up, feeling Marissa’s skin glide off her own as she contracted her arm away, Marissa's eyes widened in surprise before resuming their usual honeyed serenity, with the curve of her lips, she drew her hands in the air to surrender.  "Sorry," she said with a sheepish smile. "I saw the cuts." Wren cleared her throat feeling a residual dry burn, a painful reminder of the last night’s indulgences. She glanced down at her pallid arms, covered with colourful bandages, some with cartoon animals and others with vivid flowers, the same kind as the one preserved in her resin flower necklace.

"Yeah. Thanks," she replied, somewhat awkwardly. Resisting the urge to clear her throat again in fear of expelling last nights dinner. Marissa continued to chatter on, indifferent to Wren’s increasing headache as she offered various topics of conversation in an attempt to draw Wren out of her shell. Wren nodded occasionally, remembering to yawn a few times, in hopes of subtly conveying that her desire for Marissa to leave. The brunette, intentionally or not, appeared oblivious to Wren’s attempts, as she continued with her one-sided conversation.

After a while, with great exercise in patience and effort on Wren’s part, Marissa seemed to notice Wren’s distant and preoccupied self. Only then did she register, the heavy scent of alcohol exuding from Wren. A frown cast on her naturally perky expression, pondering how to admonish Wren for drinking heavily and, how to finally identify the culprit supplying the drinks. Marissa tried to make delicate endeavours to glance around the room, actively fighting the urge to count the bottles on the floor. She lightly shook her head, redirecting her attentions to Wren. "You didn't come down like usual. Is everything okay?"

Wren sighed, treading carefully in the storm of her thoughts. "I've just been busy," she replied, not wanting to share the turmoil of her day with Marissa.

“Ah! I saw the garden. Bert said it wasn’t the gardener, Mike’s on holiday at the moment. His wife just gave birth to their third son!! He-” She paused, catching herself before running off-topic. “Anyway, you and Klaus were the only ones here over the week, and don’t tell him, but out of the two of you, it’s harder to picture Klaus’ gardening,” she chuckled, trying to incite a giggle from the other. 

Wren remained tight-lipped, conflicted with withholding her words in fear of revealing anything, but also with trying not to disappoint Marissa’s expecting eyes, waiting for her to laugh. Wren wanted to take pride in her garden and laugh with her friend as they usually did, chuckling as they mimicked with exaggeration the other residents of the estate- a popular one being Klaus, when he wasn’t home of-course.  But now, the thought of being that carefree with Marissa made her anxious, anticipatingly fearful of saying something she shouldn’t. 

Instead of laughing, Wren managed a tight smile, unable to even manipulate her facial muscles to present otherwise. "Actually, I'm not feeling too well," she said, trying to hide her discomfort and desperation for solitude. "I might have caught a cold while gardening." She hoped Marissa would take the hint and leave.

Marissa, however, was more concerned about Wren's admission of her sickness. She scanned Wren's face for any signs of illness with the same meticulousness that mothers toward a sick child. She’d be better at her job if she applied the same diligence. Wren grimly chuckled inwardly.

"I can stay with you as long as you need. Leah can fill in for me. Don’t worry, she owes me," Marissa assured. Wren wasn’t worried for the unfamiliar maid, if anything, normally, she would be delighted if Marissa let loose from her virtuous self and shirked her workload off to someone else. But today wasn’t normally. Today was different. "I always feel better with someone by my side when I'm sick. Plus, I have a face mask, so I don’t catch anything." She smiled, eager to help. She turned to retrieve the mask from her bag downstairs, only to be stopped by Wren’s hold on her arm.

Wren hesitated, feeling frustrated and exhaustion pool up inside her. "Thanks. But I really just need some rest. Some sleep. That’s all. It’s-" she spoke as convincingly as she could. 

Marissa interrupted, "I'll make my mother's secret soup. It’s got magical properties," she promised, ushering her voice into a whisper, “it’s got vervain. My mothers obsessed with it, says it’s the cure to everything. Has a whole garden!!” Marissa clasped her necklace, making a point to show it to Wren. 

Wren's fatigue grew, watered by Marissa’s pitchy voice. Even so, she tried to remain firm but calm. "I really just need some time alone," she said. "I'll be all smiles soon enough."

“Y-you can talk to me, you know. I might even be able to help whatever it is on your mind.” Marissa placed a hesitant hand on Wren, adding “Things always just work out in the end.”

Wren pulled back from Marissa’s touch, the same warmth she felt and desired from before, felt like it could burn her. She felt her chest brewing agitation. “No, they don’t,” she responded conclusively and coldly, correcting Marissa “they don’t JUST work out.” 

“I’ve found contrary, you’ll see it too,” Marissa offered a promising smile, believing herself to be giving Wren hope. 

Wren’s jaw tightened, angry at Marissa’s optimism, angry that Marissa was implying that all her problems would face away if she allowed it, as if her attention was the only thing feeding her hurt, when it was the opposite.

Marissa’s naivety to the dishonesty and immorality that plagued reality, initially attracted her, made her believe and seek comfort in the solace of her perspective like a fool. But now when reality slithered through the blanket of false comfort, cold and snake-like, Wren felt it all at once, only this time without her own walls of cynicism and doubt to protect her, to bear the bulk of the weight.

“You know,” Wren peered into Marissa’s unexpecting, clear doe-eyes, brimming with kindness and tenderness-the sight ignited in Wren an irresistible itch to debase the purity of her eyes, to dull the rich, warm chocolate, deep and alluring as it were, with flecks of amber and honey, until it mirrored hers- her devoid of warmth, ghostly orbs that chilled everything, starting from her. 

“You can’t even help yourself, let alone me,” Wren revealed, her voice twisted into a sharp and piercing weapon, and armoured with a painful truth that she lorded over Marissa. Wren could sense Marissa’s growing unease, but she continued, fuelled by her own hurt and ugliness to do otherwise.

Wren chuckled with helpless defeat, before regaining its vicious streak. “We’re on the same boat, the only difference is that I’m not deluding myself. Both our lives hinge on the unpredictable whims of another. Think about it for once, Marissa. And don't tell me, you haven't noticed how messed up things are in this estate. Do you even have any experience working as an attendant? Don’t you find it strange that you were hired so easily? and even stranger that you're still here despite your poor cleaning skills. For gods sake, Marissa, you break a plate a day." Wren saw the clogs in Marissa’s mind slowly shift as suspicion dawned upon her. 

“And- and, you want to know something else?!!” Wren posed a rhetorical question, knowing Marissa didn’t want to know, yet, not caring for it.

“You remember, Mike? On holiday you know, because of his pregnant wife?” Wren scoffed, contemptuously. “Well, he’s dead. Been dead since Tuesday. Worm food by now. The roses-“

A resounding slap echoed in the air. Wren felt the sharp sting before she registered that Marissa had struck her. Marissa quickly drew her hand back and held it there with the other, surprised at what she’d done. “I’m sorr-” she quickly fled out the door.

Wren slumped against her bedframe, watching Marissa’s back as she ran. A mix of self-pity and residual anger, pooled in her with no release. A hypocrite. She accused, spitefully. I’m a hypocrite. Blaming her for deluding herself when I’m doing the same. But as the night wore on and the whiskey bottle grew lighter, a new feeling began to emerge- regret. Wren knew that she had been unfair to Marissa and that she owed her an apology. She replayed the hurt in Marissa’s eyes, only this time, with her anger dissipated, there was no satisfaction, only a bitter aftertaste of remorse.

The attendants had long since left, but Wren remained in her room. 9pm. She’d forgone all cravings, sinking into the abyss of her emotions. She knew the danger of losing her composure, had taken every measure to not reveal it to Marissa, and yet, it had. Marissa had seen a glimpse of Wren's inner ugliness, just as Wren had feared, and it was enough to repulse her.  

She left her bed, trying to take her mind off it. She strolled through the cold hallways, stopping at the library, its doors slightly open with light peering through.

Klaus.

She faintly recalled memories of her arrival here, the way she vehemently avoided Klaus, choosing instead to live as silent as mouse in hopes of falling under his radar. And, now here she was, desiring his company, even more than usual.   

“Hey,” she greeted, a faint knock, before wedging the door open wider. She paused, seeing the blood stains on his shirt. “You’re a sloppy eater,” She commented, making herself comfortable on the sofa chair positioned on the right of the table; there was a silent agreement that that was her spot and his was on the left of the mahogany table.  

"It's not my fault that food has a mind of its own," he spoke, a hint of amusement laced his words, fondly remembering the way his dinner had clawed and thrashed against his hold. “Though, I’m not quite finished with dinner,” Klaus extended his hand out to her expectingly.  

Ah. Its Sunday. Wren realised, standing from her seat. She gathered her hair to one side as she neared, presenting her neck to him.

"What brought this on?" Klaus queered, head slightly tilted in thought.

“Consider it an act of charity.”

Klaus couldn’t help but feel a twinge of suspicion at Wren’s unusual offer. He stood staring at her, not bothering to fully close their distance as though he were waiting for her to make her ploys known. However, his doubts diminished as he registered Wren’s defeated look, one that conveyed a complete surrender. It was unusual look on the raven-haired youth-who, even when proclaiming her surrender aloud and adhering to his orders, still retained a fighting spirit in her eyes. In anyone else, he would’ve hastily quashed thoughts of resistance, but in her, it earned his admiration and anticipation.

Klaus lips curled at the corners, he placed a hand on her back, tracing beating of her carotid artery. He acknowledged that if he were any other man of decent principles, he would refuse on account of the young girl’s emotional instability.  But he was no such man. He was Klaus Mikaelson- an original vampire- the bastard born of his family, destined to accrue others loathing and fear, just as his parents felt of him. If Wren, in her haze of surrender, offered her to him, then he would gladly oblige. “I won’t refuse then,” he responded with a wry smile.   

“I wasn’t expecting you to,” Wren retorted, closing her eyes, a cold shiver ran down her spine as Klaus approach. She braced herself for the sharp sting of his fangs, anticipating the same gruelling pain she remembered. However, it wasn’t just the pain she sought, it was the dulling satisfaction afterwards, the same one that made her feel like she was letting go of everything. That everything was letting go of her. A powerful enough physical pain that drowned all other sensations.

Klaus fangs tore into the surface of her skin and intruded deeper. His fangs seemed to pierce into her deeper and deeper, expelling all other concerns that previously swarmed her young mind. Soon, it was just her, even Klaus’ presence faded away along with the rest of the world. 

Klaus pulled away from her in satisfaction, his mind regathering his bearings after getting lost in his own euphoria. “I’m revered as a monster by many. Cast out even from my own species and family. But I feel we are not so dissimilar. The only way, that we find, to cope with pain is to make it physical.”

Klaus bit into his own wrist and placed it against Wren’s lips. In her haze, she forgot to resist, barely registering his words.

“Shh. It’s going to heal you,” he carefully held her lightly thrashing form. Wren calmed, Right, his blood can heal. She didn’t recall him even bothering to heal her before. A strained chuckle arose, as she realised, the loneliest vampire pitied her.

Chapter Text

Klaus peered down to watch Wren’s sleeping figure, cradled in his arms as he rode out the euphoric rush of her blood. Her normally composed, apathetic eyes now puffed with a reddish hue, she’s been crying, he registered, unmoved yet, curious as to how something that weak had lasted as long as she had with him. She frowns even in her sleep. How Finn-like, he mused, resisting the urge to smooth out the crease, instead allowing her a few more minutes of rest undisturbed by him and her own thoughts. Since the addition of the little thief to his estate, his mood had significant improved. While her blood was the main catalyst for the change, her companionship also played a role, however small it was. Despite her less than favourable upbringing, she was a good conversationalist. Neither too drab nor too eccentric, with a natural gift for holding others attention with her clever sense of humour and sharp remarks, a trait that kept even him on his toes.

Klaus chucked, reminiscing how in his fits of rage, Wren had expertly made herself scarce by retreating to her room. When he stormed, occasionally as he did, into the estate with blood staining his clothes, she didn’t make the foolish mistake of confronting him nor comforting him. He commended on her perceptiveness and self-preservation instincts to avoid him with necessary. He was sure that without this skill, she would’ve long become collateral damage to his ire.

Though, in spite of their growing amity, Klaus remained unwavering in his goal to uncover the effects of her blood, to unbind his mother’s curse. He’d taken vials of her blood for research and had entrusted them to a loyal witch. A loyal witch, but one that increasingly tested his patience with her lack of breakthroughs. Afterall, to Klaus Mikaelson, what worth was there in a loyal witch that yielded no results.

Klaus had scoffed at Elijah’s rebukes in the past, but even he himself couldn’t deny his ineptitude for patience, enough that while he was awaiting news of Wren’s blood, he was also procuring another means of undoing the curse- his witch Greta. After all, he who fails to plan, plans to fail.  

Wren swiftly emerged from beneath her cozy sheets, any remnants of yesterday’s weariness and aches dissipated. She gleefully hopped on her bed a few times, daring any pains to resurface. Nothing!! Not a single muscle cramp! She registered, awed at feeling the effects of his blood. His bloods like an energy elixir, she chuckled, recalling Felix’s video games.

With her physical ailments attended to, Wren thought of Marissa, contemplating different ways to apologise and reconcile with the brunette. Suddenly, she froze, her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened in realisation. Shit! Shit!! I told her about Mike!! Wren panicked, nearly falling off the bed. She sat down on the floor, trying to ground herself, to think of something.

Ok Wren. Think. Think!! Her mind raced as she gripped her forehead tightly with both hands at each temple. What would Marissa have done? What do normal people do? She muttered desperately.  The police!! Shit, oh my god, what if she’s gone to the police. Fuck! But it’s been a whole two days. Why haven’t they busted down the doors already!! Klaus is going to kill Marissa. the cops. A whirlwind of thoughts flooded through her mind.

And me!!! Wren shuddered at the thought of being at the receiving end of Klaus’ wrath. She pictured all different ways Klaus was going to kill her. Her mind answered her worries by expelling an intrusive image of Klaus skewering her. A mirthless snigger left her lips., I’m so screwed. Although Wren wanted to give up on the spot and cry, she refrained. Instead, she resorted to slapping herself on the cheek, a painful but much needed wake-up call, that snapped her out of her reverie.

She rummaged through the cupboards, scouring every corner in search of her phone, scattering and discarding everything on the floor, in one mountainous pile. Blissfully, the reflective surface of her phone gleamed in her vision, she resisted the urge to kiss the cold screen of the phone, and instead focused on contacting Marissa. To avoid Klaus’ fury and walking into an unknown situation, she first had to assess if Marissa had said anything and how much and to who. Wren didn’t have to scroll through a list to get to Marissa’s contact. She composed herself, drawing a large inhale and exhale. 

The device began to ring. Please. Please!! Pick up. The mantra repeated in Wren’s mind. Suddenly, she froze in recognition. Her head slowly turned towards the direction of the door. Her heartbeat thumped so fiercely; she was sure it would fall right off her chest in a hurry to escape. The same with her breath, eager to leave her and the blood in her veins, iced.

Marissa’s ring tone echoed in the hallway outside Wren’s room. Despite the barrier of the door, the sound seemed to permeate through the wood, and straight into Wren’s ears. “Then he waddled away - waddle waddle. Then he waddled away - waddle waddle.” Only a few days ago, the song had made her chuckle. She was in the garden, picking songs with Marissa. But now, in the same room with the same annoyingly comedic verse, Wren only felt dread.  

The door opened to reveal Bert. The older man had a blank stare, he gave a nod of acknowledgment to Wren. “Master Klaus is expecting you downstairs.” He offered Wren the phone, she easily confirmed it to belong to Marissa, with  its colourful stickers decorating the back.  Wren didn’t bother asking why the attendants were here on a weekday, knowing Bert to be in Klaus’ compulsion.

Wren followed Bert to the dining room, she tried not to react upon seeing Klaus at the end of the table, and Marissa to his left, she wore an uncertain expression.

“How delightful for you to join us. Little thief. This is Marissa, a real peach” he spoke patronisingly as he lifted Marissa’s chin carefully, allowing Wren an inspection.

“Marissa. I’ve seen you around…you’re one of the attendants, aren’t you?” Wren tried to limit eye contact with the brunette, instead deliberately looking to Klaus. “I thought they were only here on the weekends,” she asked reaching for a toast, trying to sound both confused and disinterested in the particulars of estate maids.

Klaus gave a sly knowing smile but chose to continue to play along with Wren’s deception. He wanted to applaud her for not running to aid Marissa on the spot. Wren wondered how long his feigned composure would last before blood spilled the expensive Persian rugs.  

“How peculiar that you are not well acquainted with her. I was under the impression, the two of you got along like peas in a pod,” Klaus frowned, disappointedly.

“Well, then you were under the wrong impression,” Wren made eye-contact with Marissa, before biting into her toast. “Sorry, lady. He gets jealous when he thinks I’m making friends.” 

Klaus ignored her response, instead shifted her menacing glance to Marissa, who appeared both confused and hurt at Wren’s rejection. “Pitiful little thing. Marissa darling, tell me more about what you were saying…before Wren so rudely interrupted us,” he stood, and walked behind Marissa, his hands clasped on either side of her shoulder. “Go on, love,” he encouraged, looking directly at Wren.

Marissa hesitated, unsure of how to proceed. She wasn’t ready to face Wren, but Klaus’ insistence and encouragements strangely unsettled her. She wanted to leave but, thought it awkward to storm off, and Klaus hands seemed intent on keeping her seated.

Wren interjected, engineering her frightened expressions into one of annoyance. “Are you bored, Klaus? Is that what all this is? And at 10am?!! On a Tuesday! Let her go already, she’s practically shaking.”

“Enough!!” Klaus shouted, his anger succeeding his amusement of the situation. “I want nothing but silence from you until otherwise,” he glared threateningly at Wren. “Now then,” Klaus paused, as though revelling in the silence, “I want to hear from her,” he tightened his hold on Marissa, causing the brunette to wince. Wren tossed her toast onto the table, drawing all of her willpower to seem composed, and not like she was expecting to be killed in a few seconds. 

She looked across the table to see Marissa, her eyes were teary, and she was sniffing in between her words. “I-, I was worried, so I told Mr Mikaelson about Mike. You said he was dead, so, I thought you were in trouble or something, but I didn’t know what to do.”

Despite years of schooling herself to composure, Wren’s mouth went agape. She… She thought I was the one who killed Mike!!! Wren wanted to storm past Klaus and shake Marissa, shake her in frustration. She wanted to laugh, laugh at how absurd and unbelievable Marissa’s conclusions were.

Marissa continued tearfully, “I was going to go the police. But I didn’t want you to get in trouble. And, the only other person I could go to was Mr Mikaelson. I figured he could help you; I mean, he’s been so nice to accommodate you and everything.”

Klaus grinned all while Marissa talked, only perking up at the mention of his name. “A wise decision indeed, love. I would do nothing less for her.”  Marissa’s smile gleamed with appreciation as Klaus words had inspired in her hope of Wren’s future.

Klaus awaited Wren’s surrender, expecting her to confess, instead, she chuckled. “Mike? Am I supposed to know a Mike! Lady. Marissa. I don’t know what he has you on, but don’t get me involved.” Wren turned to Klaus, “You honestly think, I’d be stupid enough to confess a dead body to her an-and then, then wait until the cops show up? yes, because I’m a drunk idiot who fell asleep. If I wanted the cops here, I would’ve called them myself. I think we both know that.” 

As Klaus furrowed his brows in thought, he couldn't shake off his sudden doubts about Marissa’s story. Wren had been aware of his violent tendencies yet had made no attempt to contact the police before. She was neither sentimental enough to fixate on petty human notions of altruism and report his crimes on account of righteousness and justice, nor was she foolish enough to confess to someone what she’d done and then patiently await judgement.

Klaus’ jaws tightened, as he looked to Marissa accusingly. “Do you know what I hate most apart from traitors? Its liars. Especially, those I catch,” He snarled, grabbing Marissa’s neck from behind, his hands closed tightly around her neck. Wren felt a surge of panic rise in her chest, but she forced herself to stay put, her mind trying to convince her herself that Marissa’s undoing was her own, that she’d only known the brunette for a few months and it wasn’t worth incurring Klaus’ rage.

However, when Marissa’s face began to redden, her struggle growing more desperate as she futilely clawed at Klaus fingers to release her. And, when Marissa whimpered for Wren’s help, the raven-hatred’s indifferent exterior faltered.

“I wouldn’t do that,” she interceded, cautioning Klaus to a pause. “Don’t presume to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do!” he shouted, tightening his hold on Marissa, the brunette choked out a few pleas. 

Wren sighed, chasing away her cowardness “I’m not. I’m only saying what I wouldn’t do. And I wouldn’t kill her, she’s got ‘I’m an beloved person with a family, who’ll definitely know if I go missing, and who’ll definitely go straight to the mayor’ written all over her. If it were ME, I wouldn’t kill her and draw unnecessary attention, especially, when I’ve been toiling away planning something for the last few months.”

Klaus let out a frustrated growl at Wren’s reminder of his other plans, ones that couldn’t afforded any unwanted attention. His hold on Marissa’s neck loosened a touch.

“And what would you do with her? let her off free? When she accused you of murder?! How generous. How unlike you. One might also interpret that you like her, that you care for her?” he interrogated, again tightening their hold on the attendant, challenging Wren’s indifferent attitude. 

Although Wren wondered why he wasn't forcing her to tell the truth, she didn't dwell on it. She spoke matter of fact “Of-course I’m worried about her. I wouldn’t condemn her to die just because she’s a little confused. And, she had nice eyes, so maybe I do like her,” Wren smiled.

Klaus’ jaw tightened, he forcefully turned Marissa’s chair to face him. Her face was tear-streaked, she started to plead with him again to spare her life. He looked at her disinterestedly, only becoming more alert when his gaze fell upon the silver necklace she was wearing. He traced his finger over the chain of the necklace to its centre, vervain.  

With a repulsed expression. he ripped the vervain necklace off of Marissa and discarded it on the floor immediately after, taking care not to touch it any longer than he has to.

His hand tightened around her neck, lifting her off the floor. “Where did you get this?” he demanded.

“M-my mothers. She gave it to me,” Marissa responded with a blank star as though she were entranced. She stood on her toes, straining for some relief.

“And what do you know of its effects?” Klaus asked, his voice laden with heavy suspicion.  

“Nothing. It’s just a necklace,” Marissa explained, matter-of-factly.  

Silently observing, Wren wondered why Klaus was so intrigued by the necklace. Klaus appeared to have noticed her curious gaze as he turned to her, “it’s a herb, used centuries by humans to ward off against Vampires. It weakens us, hinders our compulsion.”

Wren’s ears perked up, realising the full significance of what Klaus had just revealed. It stops compulsion. That’s why, Marissa acted differently from the others. The necklace was protecting her… her mother…she had a whole garden of them.

Klaus anger flared at the sight of the vervain, causing him to exert more strength around Marissa’s neck. Shit. if this continues, he’s going to kill her!! Wren gathered, seeing Marissa’s face turn from a reddish hue to a more ominous purple shade, her eyes seemed to be on the verge of retreating into her upper eyelids.  

“Klaus, it sounds like her mother knows about vampires. Are you sure you want to alert her to your matters by killing her daughter?!” Wren tried to hide the panic in her voice, instead employing a calm, stable tone of reason. 

Klaus griped, unable to vent his frustrations. He collected himself through a few deep breaths, slowly and reluctantly, lowered Marissa to her feet. “You’ll remember nothing of unusual things that’ve transpired in this estate. To your knowledge, you resigned today and are in search of other pursuits.”

Marissa lit up, the only indication of her previous brush with death were her tear stains on her cheeks. Wren wanted to take a minute to apologise, reconcile before they meet again as strangers. If they ever met, that is. For Marissa’s sake, she hoped they never would. Wren dug her nails in her palm, banishing all thoughts of running to Marissa and bidding a heartfelt goodbye.

It was for the best. Klaus was watching, keenly observing for an excuse to carry out his initial intentions. Of killing Marissa. or her. or both.

Until Marissa left the tall gates of the estate, neither of them were safe from Klaus. Wren held her breath, unable to exhale comfortably knowing that at any point in the next 10 minutes, anything could happen. Klaus could simply change his mind with a single wrong twitch of a muscle and abandon is façade of composure.

Wren heard the large metal gates open and close. Marissa was gone. But she was safe. But gone.  

“Then there were two,” Wren broke the silence, tyring to hide her nervousness.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of your situation. Little thief. Though, it may have an error in my judgement. I’ve been far too generous with you, much more than you deserve. Remember, those who betray my trust all face dire consequences in the end,” he cautioned, unspoke details of her torture were glued to his words.

“I didn’t do anything,” Wren maintained.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do!” he quipped, immediately shutting down any retort from Wren. His voice was laced with a dangerous edge as he spoke, his eyes fixated on Wren with a fierce intensity, making it clear that he was not interested in excuses or explanations.

“All I know is, the girl proclaiming to be your friend has conveniently escaped unscathed, much to your efforts to plead her case. She nearly altered the police straight to my doorstep and nearly jeopardised everything I’ve worked for. I have killed for less!” Wren backed away as he paced gravely close to her.  

“In the future, choose your words and actions wisely. Better yet, who you decide to make friends with, little thief….” He sighed in disappointment. “Another mistake and it’ll be your last.” He punctuated his warning with a cold smile, sending a shiver down the Wren’s spine.  

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet his gaze, even as she felt a sense of fear rising within her. She nodded an acknowledgment, unsure if her voice would crack under the pressure of his gaze. Klaus had heard enough, he flashed away, leaving Wren in the dark.  Wren sighed in relief, Klaus had left towards the direction of his room, not outside, not to chase after Marissa.   

Silently waiting for the sound of his door to close, Wren looked around, even though she knew it was jus them two. She knelt to the ground, feeling the softness of the fabric against her bare hands. She smiled in triumph, got you!! She reached underneath the table, the silver of the necklace glistening. It felt cold in her hand, disbelief wracked her mind, at how a mere flower could be the original vampires undoing. The mere flower was now her in hands. She tried to hide a squeal; her heart pounded in her chest as she gripped the necklace tightly. She had managed to steal it right from under Klaus's nose, and now she had one form of protection to ward off the vampire. She couldn't help but smile to herself as she tucked the necklace safely into her pocket.

She made her way to her room with a spring in her step, trying to conceal her excitement. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she threw herself onto her bed, burying her face in the pillow to muffle her electrified squealing. I suppose, there is a good side to everything. Marissa’s safe and away from Klaus’ reach and I have this! My silver lining! A delighted smile played at the corners of her lips as she clutched the necklace tightly, feeling victorious in her successful heist. 

Chapter Text

“Rise and shine, you’ve idled about enough. And, we have pressing matters to attend to,” Klaus stormed into her room, disregarding all courtesies, and with a swift motion and no warning, drew back the drapes. In a drowsy state, the pillow-haired girl lifted her head, her eyes circled around her room to locate the origin of Klaus’ voice, “Klau-? Wha-what time is it?”

“Time to seize the day,” he responded, his voice full of purpose.

“Day? Its 11pm. I’m in no mood to entertain your midnight escapades,” she grumbled, burying herself deeper into her pillow, intent on drowning out Klaus’ commanding voice.

“The night is always more alive and richly coloured than the day- Vincent van Gogh” Klaus retorted with a louche smile, the glint in his eye flickering tempting peril.

“Be out in 5,” he instructed, before flashing off as quickly as he had come.

Wren mumbled her discontent, while rummaging her closet for her clothes. She quickly tamed her hair through the mirror’s guidance, pausing to trace the outer length of the spiral-shaped scar on her right shoulder blade; it had become a habit of hers to run her finger along the coiling pattern etched onto her skin; the particular area of the skin slightly raised and discoloured.

She had the scar for as long as she could remember; it didn’t look like a birthmark, so she supposed her father, in his drunken stupor, had been the one to wound her, possibly a stray shard of glass that she failed to avoid. Reaching the centre of the snail-shaped scar, she turned her attentions back to her wardrobe.

She made sure to conceal Marissa’s vervain jewellery inside her shirt. She’d not had an opportunity to test its effects as Klaus hadn’t bothered to compel her given her continued adherence to the terms of their agreement.

Klaus voice issuing her to hurry, propelled her drowsy muscles to move.

“Where are we going?” Wren hopped into the passenger seat, enjoying the cool breeze as Klaus started the engine. 

“We’re going to undo the wrong that was done to me by my mother. To take back what is rightfully mine. And, you’re going to witness the long-awaited redress of a millennium old injustice,” Klaus announced, his frame upright and triumphant.

“I was asking for an address. But, that’ll do,” Wren nodded placatingly, not wanting to ruin Klaus good mood.

She cleared her throat, hesitant and unsure how to ask her next question without dying. “And, is there a reason, I’m tagging along? Sounds like a personal matter. Don’t get me wrong, I want to help. In fact, I’m a great listener to supernatural woes. And even, greater when I’m listening over the phone, you know, in the comfort and safety of my room,” her voice betraying her nervousness. Wren anticipated that something would inevitably go wrong. Klaus had an endless supply of nightly tales, each recounting how he thwarted his enemies plot. Where Klaus went, trouble would be sure to follow, much like a dutiful shadow.

Klaus stifled a laugh, finding her duality humorous. At times as this, she cowered without an ounce of shame, but in other instances, her unwavering resolve and to strategize and carry her intentions to term was unyielding, much like when he dared to confront his irritation and rescue Marissa. 

“As personal as it gets, little thief. I can’t think of a better person to share this intimate moment with than the person I’ve been generously housing and feeding and providing for without recompense,” his voice thick with sarcasm.  

Wren gave a tight smile, not seeing any way to win the argument. She didn’t bother retorting her payments in the form of a weekly provision of blood. She wasn’t that naïve, they both knew her blood was only “payment” because he accepted it, not because she offered it. At any point, he could simply and effortlessly take her blood, and she’d be completely helpless to it.

Wren rolled her eyes, letting out an exasperated sigh. “Didn’t realise you were keeping a tally. But, if we're counting, guess I owe you my entire life now,” she met Klaus’ sarcasm with her own. “Say, let me know when you want me to sign over my firstborn to you while I’m at it.” 

Klaus raised a brow, amused. “Don’t be absurd,” he chuckled, “though, I must say, a third born has a certain appeal to it, they’re always the charmers. I can personally attest to it being one myself.” Their chuckles mingled in the crisp night air, slowly fading into a serene silence. 

“You’re not curious about the curse?” Klaus asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and scepticism.   

“Should I be?” Wren queried indifferently; her attention stolen by the silhouettes of the trees. They stood tall and proud, blanketing the road with their shadows. Having driven past all evidence of civilisation, their only guide was the moon and the headlights.

“I would presume so, given the dull life you humans lead. Your myths and folktales are a testament to your fascination with my world. A desperately needed distraction from the mundanity of your lives…” he remarked pensively before a wry smile creeped on his face. “Even at the peril of your own lives. I recall a man…many a man, who’ve bartered families and friends for a chance at immorality.”

“Well, I’m no man. And I disagree,” she grinned, only justifying her bold statement when prompted by Klaus. “As hard as it is for you to believe, some people have vibrant enough lives without the need for the supernatural to add excitement. In fact, if anything, they’re keen to enjoy their “dull lives”, content on the simplicity that is human life.” Wren laughter bubbled, upon realisation that for once, she was defending the very species she had spent most of her life trying to distance herself from.   

“What child cries for candy when they don’t know of its existence? What you are describing, little thief, is simply and exclusively the reality of humans that are unacquainted with my world. However, if they were to ever come face-to-face with the truth, they would forsake their very souls for a chance at such power. Oh, I have seen it time and time again. The allure of eternal life, the siren call of power, would drive them to abandon their humanity, their morals, and their very essence.” 

Wren shrugged, at a loss for how to continue her defence when Klaus words rang true. She had witnessed it herself. It didn’t take the promise of immortality to corrupt people.  She couldn't deny it, she was no exception. Though for her, she was more enticed by the power’s vampirism awarded, than the promise of immortality. She side-glanced Klaus and observed the toll immortality had one him, carrying the weight of the years, doesn’t seem to be doing him any good.  

“Well, here I am, aware of your kind, but you don’t see me salivating over you. I’ll prove you wrong when I’m old and content to be sleeping in warm beds with fresh linen, and smoking and drinking my way to my deathbed,” Wren snorted haughtily.  

“Aside from everything else, this part of you would get along pathetically with my oldest brother,” Klaus nodded in acknowledgment.  

Well, at least, we’re not a dramatic disaster waiting to explore.

“Sounds like he inherited all the wisdom in the family,” Wren quipped, smiling. The vibration of a phone interrupted them. When she looked up, Klaus seemed consumed by the text he had received, as it bought life to the vampire. “It seems Greta has all the pieces in place, not long now to go,” his foot pushed down harder on the accelerator impatiently.

Greta? “Ah, your trust witch,” Wren recalled. “The one who has a thing for you?”

“Yes, among others,” he confirmed, boastfully.

“And, you trust her?” Wren asked, knowing Klaus’ disdain for witches.

Klaus replied with a wry smile, “I trust her skill and her loyalty to her cause. An ally for now, but I'll keep a close eye on her." Klaus knew the value of having powerful allies in his corner, and he was willing to work with Greta- a witch, to achieve their shared goals, albeit with caution.

A stupid question. Of course, he doesn’t trust her. Wren reasoned.

“And, what of me?” Wren asked, humouring the thought.  

Klaus stared at her up and down, his one brow raised higher than the other. “I’ve fought squirrels with more ferocity than you,” he teased.

Wren dismissed his insult, chuckling at the image. “Sounds like you have a habit of fighting squirrels. The great Klaus Mikaelson, fighting squirrels,” Wren gasped, “is that the real reason, we’re heading into the woods at 11pm?!! So, you can settle a score with your rodent enemies?!!”

Klaus rolled his eyes dramatically, with an accompanying grin.  

“Well, I’m sure Greta will protect you against them. But consider me a friend who’s also got your back…so long as nothing gets close to mine.” She added, carefully.

“I don’t need anyone’s protection,” he responded dismissively, “but, I appreciate the sentiment. However, I appreciate the sentiment,” he added in a slightly softer tone.

The car came to a stop, ‘Steven’s quarry,’ Wren read the sign, hesitantly following Niklaus deeper into the forest. 

The cold breeze ignited life small goosebumps on her skin, she cringed, feeling the sensation travel across her whole body. The moon accompanied them in the trek through the forest- she wasn’t sure if that were a good thing or not. It lit her way through the maze-like surrounding, but it also cast an eerie light through the trees, creating deep shadows and silvery glints of light. The rustling of leaves and snapping of twigs amplified her anxiety and anticipation of what the cure to Klaus’ curse was. She paused abruptly, watching Klaus back as he continued in front of her. Oh shit…is he gonna kill me? Are you stupid Wren!! Who else takes someone at night for a walk in the woods with vague reasons!! He-s actual- no, that doesn’t make sense. He could’ve killed in broad daylight with 50 people watching instead of re-enacting every horror scene. He wouldn’t go through all that trouble for little old me…right?

“"At this pace, it seems the curse will outlast even my patience, my dear," Klaus remarked with a sigh, glancing back at her as she shivered and lagged behind.

“Hey!” Wren refuted loudly, before dialling her voice down. “You should be amazed I even made it this far. And without complaining,” she muttered quieter.

 Klaus rolled his eyes and growled something incoherent back to her, before smirking, a sinister glint in his eyes.  

“What?” she looked around confused and apprehensive. Again, she met his gaze again before scanning her surroundings. “What! What is it? Did you see something?!!” She surveyed all her sides, awaiting a potential attack from other supernatural beings.   

“I apologise in advance, but I must confess, this will rather entertaining,” he grinned maliciously. Without any further explanation, he flashed to her, closing the gap between them, quicker than she could register. Klaus grasped her wrist tightly, and in an instant, they were darting through the dark forest.

Taken aback by the sudden acceleration, Wren le out a gasp of surprise and forgot her usual filter, uttering a unfinished “motherfu-”, before quickly closing her mouth and shutting her eyes tightly against the wind.

Wren instinctively reached out and clasped her free hand around Klaus', holding on tightly as if her life depended on it. She felt his strong grip around her own, and was almost certain that the ring on his finger had left an impression on her skin.

She suppressed the urge to hurl, fighting to keep her dinner down. In her state, she failed to see Klaus peer down at her and smirk. Wren yanked her wrist away from Klaus and rushed towards a nearby tree, expelling her pasta. Klaus cringed in disgust, as Wren continued to heave against the tree. 

“I forget, you humans are so fragile,.” He judged disdainfully. Wren silently glared at him, muttering all sorts of obscenities in her mind as the pair continued the trek.

In the distance, Wren saw light on the forest floor. Klaus motioned for her to be quiet as they drew nearer to the clearing. Wren followed Klaus acts, and they both hid behind a tree, watching on from the shadows. When her vision finally focused, she saw one girl a standing on a raised terrain, three rings of fire on the ground, each circle containing three girls. While she could not hear them clearly, Wren surmised that the two girls were trying to negotiate with the third for pardon.   

“Greta, witches are supposed to maintain the balance in nature, it’s your duty to them to keep this curse sealed,” the long brown-haired girl’s voice was thick with poorly veiled desperation as she tried to reason with Greta. Although, despite her attempts to sound calm and collected, the intensity of her emotions was palpable, causing her to sound more impassioned than reasonable.

“My duty is to Klaus,” the witch responded cooly, resolute to orders from Klaus., “To the new order,” there was a fire of excitement and worship in her eyes. Wren noticed the way Elena’s shoulders slumped; they both knew Greta would not sway.

Klaus has her all wrapped up around his finger, she felt a sense of hesitant awe stir within her. She’d witnessed the same suffocating charm work on Marissa. The way he had disarmed Marissa’s guard and even convinced her that Wren was the one responsible for the gardener’s murder. And while she wasn’t nearly as gullible as her brunette ex-friend, she hoped she’d never fall prey to him.

At Greta’s mention of his name, Klaus walked out from the shadows, his form upright and a look of satisfaction. Unsure what to do, she trailed him, keeping a deliberate safe distance from Klaus. She was close enough to be under his protection, and yet far away enough to remain an observer.

 “Glad to know I still have a dance partner,” his voice contained silent promises that Wren didn’t want to think about. His tone held a dangerous allure, one that promised a perilous blend of excitement and danger all at once. It was amorously contradictory to the formal and refined quality of his British accent.

 She tried to brush off Klaus provocative insinuations to Greta, and instead, directed her attention to two watchful stares that she had felt since revealing herself. She met their gaze, and offered a half-hearted smile, The other girl appeared too worn out to reciprocate Wren’s unsure smile.

Klaus interrupted their mute greetings. “Hello, my lovelies,” he acknowledged before, turning to his witch. “Are we ready Greta?” 

Greta nodded, beginning to chant. At the same time, the three girls trapped in the circle of fire groaned in pain. Klaus held out a small velvet bag from his left pocket, slowly revealing its contents- a round, smooth-surfaced gemstone of shimmering white. “I’ve, at last, got the moonstone…I spent 500 years looking for this,” he looked at the hand-sized gem, with a mix of fascination and determination, knowing its powers.

“I hate to part with it,” in his reverie, his hold on the stone lingered. Wren scoffed a little, noticing the hint of suspicion lurking in his gaze as he offered the moonstone to Greta. He was always on guard even with his supposed allies. If possible, he would be mistrusting of his own reflection.

To their luck, Greta, seemed oblivious to his distrustful glare, Instead, she seemed enamoured, prideful at his trust in allowing her to handle the stone. “The moon has passed its apex,” Greta stared off into the distant sky, marking the full moons appearance. Wren’s gaze followed hers, the breathtaking taking complete circle, radiated a soft luminescent light.  

“Remember everything you need to do?” she heard Greta’s voice in the background.

“I remember,” Klaus confirmed. His gaze was unrelenting in following the moonstone, until Greta was finally placed safely into the pyre. He stood beside Greta who began chanting trance-like, his expression a mixture of reverence and anticipation as he watched the ritual unfold. The girls pained scream heightened in unison with Greta’s chanting.

Wrens was struck with awe, her mouth hung open in disbelief. She couldn’t see the magic, couldn’t see its form or colour, but she felt it. It was a childish expectation, but she had imagined magic to be like pixie dust, not whatever was happening before her. The winds churned in the air, an orchestra of the winds rustling and howls to accompany the girls screams.  

Lost in her thoughts, Wren failed to notice one of the girls bolt out of the circle and charge at Klaus. Although, her attempt proved futile as he swiftly outmanoeuvred and pinned her down on the floor. Wren heard the breath forced out of her lungs as she made impact with the hard surface of the ground, the girl heaved a while, before regaining enough strength in her lungs to groan.   

Wren’s heart raced with fear as she witnessed the violence unfold a few feet away from her. She felt helpless, her body frozen with shock and uncertainty. As though the pain were her own, she cringed, turning away from the scene, hoping to avoid witnessing anything gruesome. Suddenly, there was a shrill piercing scream, Wren tensed turning back to look at what had happened. In front of her, Klaus stood over the limp girl with a victorious smile. In his hand, he held something that fit perfectly inside his fist, it was a dark red colour. It was pulsating.

He-her heart!!! She registered; her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to accept what her eyes were showing her. If someone told her, what she saw, was merely an illusion of the moon or the effects of her insanity caused by living with a vampire for months, she’d readily believe them. But, it was irrefutable that before Wren, was indeed a heart. A human heart, only moments beating rhythmically and caressed by bones and flesh.

Finally, Wren tore her gaze away from the heart, feeling as if she had been held in some sort of trance. She stumbled backward, falling on her backside. She felt the dirt assault her hands and sneak in between the crevices of her fingers, as her mind continued reeling with the shock of what she had just witnessed. Without knowing, her fingers were digging into the dirt, trying to find anything to focus on, anything other than what was before her.

She began tracing spirals into the ground, seeking comfort in something familiar. the index of her finger trailed the curling twists of the shape. Despite having witnessed many unsavoury things in her short tumultuous life, nothing was as vivid, nor could compare in any sense to the sight before her. At her worst moments on the streets, she had seen three men attack another to death, but even then, that experience paled in comparison to this. There was no organ removal, no blood-curdling scream as a hand punctured through the chest cavity of another’s, past broken rib cages, to wrench out a heart. And since, her stay with Klaus, he had refrained from committing macabre murders in front of her. Though to her efforts, she had been careful to avoid seeing Klaus in his homicidal state by withdrawing to her room, and not leaving to investigate any strange screams that echoed through the halls at night. 

Chapter Text

Klaus flashed towards the pyre, before proceeding to squeeze the excavated heart into the dark mixture. As the mixture began bubbling, Klaus slipped into reverie, one step closer to undoing the curse.

Wren cringed inwardly, watching Klaus lick the blood off his hands. She turned her attention to the two remaining girls, anticipating a similarly brutal and gory end for them as the dead she-wolf. 

The two girls whispered, likely exchanging their final words. Knowing her own helplessness, Wren listened quietly, discreetly wiped the sick from her mouth with her sleeve. If she could do anything in that situation, it was to award them with a moment to say their farewells. Upon attending closer to their whispers, Wren deduced that the younger with straight brunette hair was Elena…the doppelganger!!

Amid all the chaos in her mind, she tried to recall Klaus’ introduction of the mystic falls characters. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting of the doppelganger- of the supernatural prize warranting Klaus’ obsession, but Elena looked too normal. She looked human, like a normal girl in every sense, granted a beautiful one. No, Wait, she is human. Just that there are more of her that are not her. Wren reasoned. She’s got a twin, who’s not a twin. Wren tried to physically shake the confusion out her mind. There were more pressing matters concerning the doppelganger outside of her normalcy.

One of which being, her doppelganger- Katerina- a character of significance, who warranted knowing and precaution, especially as Klaus seemed to both admire her cunning nature and despise her in the same breath. Wren studied Elena’s features intently, burning them to memory, should she ever cross paths with Katerina (Given her luck and Klaus’ 500-year-long craze with imposing consequences on her for fleeing, their meeting was inevitable. Though at least, she would be prepared).   

Having assured herself, that she could point out Elena and Katerina from a crowd, Wren shifted her attention to the other- a dirty blonde mature woman- Elena’s aunt, Jenna, who was now a vampire.

“Promise me, when you get the chance run,” Elena pleaded in quiet whispers to Jenna. Wren turned to Klaus with uncertainty, despite her proximity to the two girls, she was sure that Klaus could still hear their whispers of escape much clearer than her. To her confusion, Klaus showed no indication of having heard them, being far too distracted with the pyre.  

Despite its futility, Wren admired Elena’s unyielding efforts, especially as only moments ago, they had both seen how effortlessly Klaus had maimed the she-wolf. A show of resistance is better than throwing in the towel. I mean, a newly transitioned vampire and a human doppelganger against a 1000-year-old vampire; soon to be hybrid!! Even with her elementary knowledge of the supernatural world, it was obvious who would emerge the victor in this fight…if you could even call it that.

Wren caught herself devising a way out, imagining her to be in their shoes. Am I seriously thinking of going against Klaus?!! She interrogated herself, stupefied as to how and where this sudden bravery had come from. It was foreign and would surely get her killed. I’ve got enough problems as it is. They’re already doomed, why drag myself with them just to die TOGETHER?!! Please, Wren. Don’t do anything stupid, she pleaded, forcing her attention away from the two ill-fated women.  

She shrugged, physically trying to shake off her conscience weighing on her shoulder. After, counselling herself to follow the path that promised she’d walk out of the forest in the same condition (physically) she came in, she steadied her feet, ready to sprint at the first sign of trouble. She had only to rely on her subpar athleticism to flee over her even poorer fighting prowess.  

“Hey there, I’m Elena,” Wren turned her attention to the uneasy smiling brunette. Elena tried for another smile, attempting to maintain her composure. However, her smile did little to assure Wren, if anything it made her groan silently, already tasting the desperation in Elena’s voice. She predicted that that after Elena’s poor attempt at bonding with her in some way, the doppelganger would spring on her, a foolish idea- one that would serve to concrete their bloody death- of forming an alliance to escape from Klaus and live happily ever after.

Elena understood Wren’s groan as one of pain and fear, suffered at the hands of Klaus.

“Hey. Hey its ok. we’re all going to be ok,” she assured, her honeyed eyes mellowed with pity. “I’m Elena. This is Jenna. We’re not going to hurt you.” Wren suppressed a scoff, considering the improbability of them hurting her, whilst bound inside the circle of fire.

“What has Klaus done to you? You’re safe with us. Maybe we can even help each other,” Elena settled, inching closer to Wren’s direction, though keeping a safe distance away from the rising flames of the circle’s perimeter. Ah, that’s right. They saw me freak out over the she-wolf. So, they think I’m not with Klaus. Wren’s eyes widened catching herself, which I’m not.

 “Well, I’m just a human…Sorry to disappoint…Klaus’ very own living juice box,” Wren responded, matter-of-factly, noticing Elena’s downtrodden expression upon realising that Wren would prove little to aid them. Wren pitied the two, but certainly not enough to test the bounds of her strange, brittle and transient cordial relations with Klaus. Next time, he suggests a stroll at night, I’m not going. He can drag me., but-. He WILL drag me.

“Please, if you help us, we can help you,” Elena begged, her desperation reached new heights as she looked at Jenna and imagined her aunt facing the same fate as the she-wolf. This caught Wren by surprise, expecting Elena to have given up on relying on her. I guess to her any help, even from little old me, is better than nothing. Wren looked to Jenna, expecting to see the same panic reflected in her eyes.

Instead, Jenna offered an assuring smile, throwing Wren off-guard. She waited expectingly, for Jenna to begin pleading and reasoning, at length, why and how Wren can help their escape.

“Run. As quick as you can, when the fire dims,” Jenna instructed firmly.

Wren looked around in confusion, before pointing to herself. Elena mirrored her confusion.

“It’ll be alright, I may not look it, but I’m really strong. I’m a vampire. Trust me, I can hold off Klaus,” her strained smile betrayed the anxious creases on her forehead.  

“Jenna?!” Elena interrupted.

“How old are you kid?” Jenna asked, dismissing Elena. Despite their situation, her voice neither waivered nor stuttered, she remained resistant to the fear that Klaus could compel with just presence.

“16,” Wren responded without much thought, admonishing herself for her honesty. Should’ve gone with 15, then they wont expect so much. She doubted the older woman’s selfless words, surmising that at any second, she would ambush her with a plan that would involve Wren’s participation in their doomed escape plan.

“I’m 16. Favourite colour is blue, and I was born in the spring- late spring, almost summer,” Wren fired away, in a detached manner. “Now, that we’ve bonded, let me clarify again, I’m not one of you. I’m human and useless in every sense of the word.” Wren turned to point at her initial position, “Did we all not just see me bent over on all fours and heaving violently??!” she sighed exasperatedly, “look, I’m not saying I don’t want to help. But against him?” Wren raised a doubtful brow, before peering over to Klaus, who returned her attention with a dangerous smirk. He’s definitely listening.

“Maybe, you can call for help? Please, my friends are-” Elena drawled on, her hand clasped around Jenna fearfully. Wren only responded with a blank stare, exhausted of coming up with different ways to say no.   

“Elena, it’s going to be alright,” Jenna interceded calmly. Wren observed the older woman closely, fixated on seeing her mask of composure crack to reveal a vulnerability or fear that would compel her to contradict her selfless words. The three heard a maniacal laughter from Klaus as he praised Greta for her efforts. In that moment, just as she had guessed, her eyes widened recognising fear in Jenna’s’ eyes, followed by a smidge of triumph.

Though, this victory was short-lived. Jenna was scared, but she was scared for Elena, above and beyond herself. Wren wasn’t sure what to feel. What’s wrong with her? is she stupid? Klaus can get a vampire anywhere, but there’s only one doppelganger. I doubt Klaus is going to chase her very far if she runs, he’ll have to keep an eye on Elena. Why doesn’t she run?!!  

“No, Jenna- please, he’s going to kill you. You have to run. And you can!! with your vampire speed. Just focus,” Elena tutored. Jenna nodded as if to confirm Elena’s requests for her to flee. Wren kept her doubts of Jenna actually running away and leaving Elena to deal with Klaus to herself. Neve

“There…” she turned around, taking care to ensure Klaus had his attentions occupied with the pyre. Well, even if he does hear me. Jenna and Elena both turned to Wren.

“There is a way for you to run, if-“Wren reluctantly explained.

“He’s an original vampire, he’ll catch up,” Elena interrupted dismissively.  

“Yes’, I’m aware,” Wren held herself from an obvious eye roll. “He won’t be as fast, if there’s something at stake,” Wren continued careful with her words. If he could catch up, why did you suggest running in the first place?!! Wren quietly contemplated.

“How?!!” Elena asked urgently.

“Well, if I’m right. And this is me guessing. But this is a ritual, and don’t you need to sacrifice the lambs in the right way-” Elena glared at her, causing Wren to raise her hands for her insensitive choice of words. “Anyway, I’m sure if you threatened to off yourself right where you stand, Klaus would be more… let’s say agreeable to letting her go free.” Wren discreetly tossed a nearby tree branch into Elena’s circle. Lets hope she’s creative…and believable.

“What if I did it? He needs a vampire, doesn’t he?” Jenna turned to Elena, “you take her and run, I’ll buy you guys time.” Elena teared up, “N-no, Jenna. We can’t leave you.”

 “As noble as that is, it won’t work. Simple math. There’s only 1 Elena, but vampires? Well, I sure he can find one nearby. I mean, come on, we’re in creepy underground tomb, that’s like their nest,” Wren chuckled, trying for a joke. Her laughter quickly died down as Klaus sped over to them.

“Something amusing?” Klaus inquired, smirking as though he’d been in on the joke.

“In the middle of the woods? I’m freezing, can taste yesterday’s dinner and have dirt all the way up to my knees. Nothing funnier,” Wren dusted herself, moving away from Elena and Jenna, whilst allowing Klaus space to pompously make his grand entrance. I’ve done my share. I tried to help. Any more help, and I’ll be needing it myself. Either she uses her death to mean something, and her devoted aunt lives, or not Wren reasoned, placating her conscience.

 “Hello Jenna,” Klaus neared her dangerously, prompting Wren to step away even further from any last-minute show of bravery and stupidity on Jenna’s part.

Jenna stood defiantly; her expression unyielding under Klaus own. Wren couldn't help but admire the strength emanating from her, as she tried to be a pillar of support for her niece who watched on anxiously.

“Let her go. I understand that I have to die, but she doesn’t,” Elena pleaded, flinching back as the flames rose higher. Wren peered down; the branch remained on the discarded on the floor, blending perfectly.  Guess, she’s trying for negotiation…without anything to offer. Smart Wren cringed, already preparing herself for their unfortunate deaths.

“Careful,” Klaus said, scolding Elena as a parent did a wayward child. 

“I followed your rules, I did everything that you asked, I didn’t run, please,” Elena’s voice was strained, her eyes teary and her jaw tense with desperation. Perfect, great way to start a negotiation. Let Klaus know he’s got all the cards, and that you’re powerless, she wanted to palm her face in frustration before contemplating. Then again, who wants to die alone? So, Elena wants to die with Jenna? Well, don’t think her aunt would be too opposed to that. Whose to say, Jenna will even run? Why did I bother…

Klaus maintained his silence, affecting a sympathetic expression as his eyes shifted between Elena and her aunt. But his facade quickly faded, his eyes turning cold once again. "I don't recall you being on the guest list," he turned, leaving everyone confused as they followed his gaze towards the top of a cliff. Wren spotted a young man with blonde hair peering down at them.

“Very well then,” Klaus responded, and in a blink of an eye, he stood beside the other man, playfully swinging the stake in his hand as they engaged in conversation- one that the those below couldn’t hear.    

“Stefan” Wren heard Elena mutter in relief. Stephan?? She tried to recall, unease building at the arrival of another supernatural, 5 too many. Though, this one that appeared to be on Elena’s side, she surmised, predicting a fight.

“Don’t worry, he’s with us, I promise we’re going to get out of this alive,” Jenna smiled sympathetically as she sensed the younger girl’s uneasiness.  

Holding back from a cynical and hopeless laugh at Jenna's optimism, Wren inquired “Is anyone else coming to help us?” her tone more compliant as she nodded. If there were more coming, she had to know if it would enough to shift the scales against Klaus. She decided against choosing a side for now, biding her time to gauge the winner of the supernatural feud.

Jenna wore a convincing smile “by the way, I didn’t catch your name,” Jenna prompted, offering a distraction as she sensed the younger girl’s apprehension.   

She was conflicted about how she felt- a rare thing, as usually, she either liked someone or didn’t. The only exception to this rule thus far, was Klaus and now Jenna. She reminded Wren of Marissa, in their maternal aura of protectiveness, but unlike the rosy cheeked attendant who she likened to the spring, Jenna felt like the summer- more reliable and stronger.  A foolish thought, she knew, given how easily Jenna made careless promises and assurance of their safety.

“Its Wren,” she reminded herself to play nice, especially, if through some miracle, Elena’s team won.

“That’s a beautiful name. Wren,” Jenna complimented, her voice low and soothing. She pitied the young restless girl, who seemed to embody her name, eager as a bird is to fly off. 

Wren averted her gaze from Jenna's saccharine eyes, feeling a slight discomfort at how to receive the strange compliment. “Uh- thanks. I was born with it,” she opted for a joke. Jenna chuckled; her mirthful laughter compelled a responding grin from Wren.

Stefan and Klaus were deep in conversation, and the three of them strained their ears to catch any snippets of their discussion. Elena gasped in realisation, "Jenna, can you use your senses to hear them?" Elena asked urgently, pointing towards the mountain top. Her aunt nodded and closed her eyes, her face contorting with concentration.   

“What do you think the chances are that your boyfriend can hold off Klaus?” Wren asked quietly.

“How-”

“Kind of hard to miss with the way you’re staring at him,” Wren added, impatiently awaiting Elena’s response.

“Stefan’s more than 100 years old. He could hold off Klaus for a bit maybe, but Klaus is too powerful, he-” Elena added, pausing at Jenna’s gasp. "Oh my god," Jenna brows creased after a moment, turning to Elena apologetically. "Stefan wants to take my place."

Her words garnered conflicting responses from Elena who expression turned grave and anxious and Wren, who sighed in relief. Problem solved she considered, ignoring the voices questioning her relief at Jenna’s survival.  It all works out, he doesn’t need 2 vampires, Elena and her boyfriend get to be together, and Jenna will live.   

“I have to do something, this can’t happen,” Elena paced around the circle in distress. Her hesitation angered Wren, it seemed obvious to choose to save Jenna, who looked at her with such familial adoration over a vampire boyfriend, who’d lived enough lives.

“Quite the predicament,” Klaus remarked with an amused grin, as he appeared out of the woods with Stefan by his side. “All this talk about preserving family and here’s Stefan granting your wish.”

Stefan stepped forward impatiently, scanning to make sure Elena was ok before pausing to eye Wren, “Who’s she?” he asked, suspiciously.

“No one of concern. Now, pay attention Stefan, you’re about to make a heroic sacrifice for dear Elena here,” he smirked maliciously.

Wren ignored Stefan’s curious gaze, and instead, she focused her attentions to Jenna, mirroring Jenna’s earlier assuring smile. You’re going to live Wren muttered inwardly.

“Well, who’s it going to be, Elena?” Klaus toyed with the stake, pointing it towards Stefan then Jenna. His lips curled in excitement, “come on, then,” he taunted.  

When the wooden stake hovered dangerously close to Jenna, Wren couldn’t help but tense, praying for Elena to make the right decision. Instead of responding with a clear and sure STEFAN, Elena whimpered in anguish, hesitating, her lips unable to utter a name. Wren was sure, she was ready to smack the doppelganger into making the choice to save Jenna.  

Elena’s turmoil seemed to only serve as further entertainment for Klaus, who then proceeded to direct the tip of the stake towards Wren’s direction. “What about you, little thief? Care to be the decider of fates?” he cackled ominously.  

“Stef-” Wren responded without hesitation. 

“No,” Elena interrupted harshly, glaring at Wren, who shrugged and continued. Klaus’ brows contorted curiously as Wren met his gaze unflinchingly, “Him,” she pointed to Stefan.  

“No!! Klaus please no!!” Klaus looked at Elena who shrugged her head vehemently at Wren’s choice.

“Tsk tsk, Indecisive Elena…Not to worry, there’s actually no choice,” he beamed, ignoring her, and staking Stefan from the back. The sight of Stefan's blood spilling out of his shirt made Wren recoil in disgust, and she felt a small splatter land on her cheek. Despite Elena's cries for Stefan, she was equal parts horrified and grateful that Jenna was not the one with a wooden stake sticking out of her chest.

Chapter Text

Klaus strode away from Stefan's groans, declaring, "I have other plans for your boyfriend." Elena let out a sigh of relief at Stefan's survival, while Wren furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. She studied Stefan’s wounded form, her eyes narrowed in realisation that the stake had not pierced Stefan’s heart. What’s he planning?!!

With a swift motion, Klaus snapped Stefan's neck, a wicked smirk on his face. The sickening sound of bones cracking made Wren cringe, as if feeling the pain herself. In just one night, she had witnessed both a heart being ripped out and a neck being broken by sheer force. 

Klaus walked away from Stefan’s limp figure, dusting his hands off as he turned to the tanned witch, "Whenever you're ready, Greta." The witch began chanting fervently, and the ring of flames surrounding Jenna slowly dissipated as Klaus approached her.  Jenna!! He’s going to kill her. 

As Klaus moved closer to Jenna, Wren's stomach churned with a sickening feeling, torn between the urge to act, and opposing Klaus. Despite not knowing Jenna and having gone beyond her normally uncharitable nature to help Elena with a plan to save her, Wren couldn't shake off the sick feeling rising in her stomach. She knew she wasn't responsible for Jenna's fate, but the guilt she would feel at her passing was already creeping up on her as she pictured the werewolf girls gruesome fate to also befall Jenna.

Elena screamed out in protest, recoiling as the flames roared around her, preventing her from running to her aunt. Wren watched with growing desperation as Klaus closed in on Jenna, her mind racing to find a way out of the situation that didn’t rely on Elena’s ability to make convincing threats. Wren's face twisted in frustration and hopelessness as she racked her brain for a solution, all the while hearing Elena's desperate pleas fall on deaf ears.

“It’s alright, I know what I have to do,” Jenna's confident smile didn't assure Wren as she watched with scepticism. It wasn’t just Jenna; Wren would doubt anyone, smiling so assuredly as death in the form of Klaus Mikaelson bearing down on them with a malicious grin.  

Wren turned to Elena, desperately hoping for the doppelganger to thrust upon her a last-minute idea to save Jenna. But instead of a plan, Elena nodded to Jenna with an assured smile on her face. Wren was in disbelief, somehow Elena had bought Jenna’s third-rate act and thought her aunt would run. But Wren knew better. She knew Jenna wouldn't simply follow Elena's earlier instructions to run. It wasn’t something she believed the older woman capable of doing, to abandon Elena and run for her own safety. That was what people like Wren did, not Jenna.  

“No, wai-” Wren's attempt to caution Jenna was cut off as the older woman silently mouthed goodbye. As soon as the circle of fire weakened, Jenna darted towards Greta, sinking her fangs into her neck.

The witch let out a piercing scream as Klaus exhaled wearily before flashing to her aid, and forcefully pulled Jenna away, throwing her to the ground.

Wren saw that in Greta’s vulnerability, the circle of flames around Elena had diminished in size. Despite knowing that she would regret it, Wren's feet moved of their own accord as she threw her hands into the circle of fire and quickly yanked the distraught Elena outside of the flames.

Wren swiftly stood behind Elena, her hand firmly grasping the doppelganger's neck as Elena knelt before her. With a quick motion, Wren reached into her pocket, feeling the familiar coldness of the cutlery knife’s spine. She held it pressing against Elena's skin on her neck, exerting enough pressure to make Elena wince in pain.  

Klaus spun around, his hand still firmly pressing down on Jenna to immobilize her, wearing an expression of amusement and surprise. "And what do you think you’re doing?" he asked, his tone filled with intrigue. In the background, Greta's moans could be heard as she struggled to hold pressure on her wounded neck.  

"I have no idea. I didn't think this through. but let me start off by saying how sorry I am," Wren said, her voice laced with regret. Her eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights, as if her body had acted before her mind had caught up.

"I really don't want to do this, I swear." She tightened the knife against Elena's neck, mirroring Klaus who was still gripping Jenna tightly.

Klaus’ eyes furrowed as a drop of Elena’s blood trickled onto the small knife. “I don’t think you’ve thought this through, little one,” he slowly neared her.

“Not one bit,” Wren's voice quivered, slowly realizing the gravity of the situation she had put herself in by going against Klaus so openly. “You know what, I blame you. I didn’t even want to come here. You practically forced my hand,

“You’re going to regret this, little thief,” Klaus warned, his voice dripping with threats.

“I am already regretting this,” Wren sighed, accepting her situation. “Say why don’t we just let her go? And we can look for another vampire? Like that one, already unconscious, how convenient,” Wren pointed the forefront of her food towards Stefan’s still frame.  

"Wren," Klaus spoke up, his voice adopting a fatherly tone. It was the first time he had said her name, and she knew he was serious.

"Ok, that's far enough, Klaus, you’re making me nervous, and when I get nervous, I get jumpy. And when I get jumpy… Well, I don’t want to accidentally prick her. You haven’t forgotten my mastery with this, have you?” Wren warned, smoothing Elena’s skin with the knife, her eyes fixed on him, stopping Klaus in his track.

Klaus scoffed, clearly not intimidated. "You expect me to believe you capable of murdering poor innocent Elena in cold blood? Even then, you think I care about what happens to Elena?”

Wren didn't flinch, “come one, Klaus,” she asked, with a knowing smile. “I’ve heard you whine about her non-stop. Besides, I'm sure you care about her more than I do. That aside, maybe I’m not capable, not like you. But then again, we've known each other for what a few months? Thinking back, you met me while I was stealing from someone. 500 years of waiting for a doppelganger down the drain all because you misplaced your trust in thieving delinquent you met only ago…Bit rash even for you, don’t you think?” Although she appeared composed on the outside, inside she was fervently praying that Klaus wouldn't call her bluff.

“Why her?” Klaus interrogated suspiciously, undoing her months of effort trying to gain his trust. Now, his suspicious gaze fixed on her like a hawk, probing for any hint of deception or ulterior motive.

“Oh my god, Klaus please, just let the woman go. Then you can undo your stupid curse and we can go home, and laugh about what happened,” Wren groaned, her courage withering away at each second under Klaus’ looming stare, reminiscent of a classic western showdown. Meanwhile, Wren offered her best pacifying and apologetic smile.

"If you release her this instant, I shall consider pardoning your transgressions," he offered, extending one hand towards Wren.

“I really wish you said that more convincingly,” Wren let out a deep sigh, unsure to win their mind game. Voices of doubt persecuted her as she felt her resolve starting to crumble. Klaus was right - she was in over her head. But she couldn't give up now, not when so much was at stake.

Klaus's lips curled into a sly smirk. "Let's just say, that I decide to entertain your suggestion," he said, his voice dripping with condescension. In one swift motion, he turned towards Jenna and without any hesitation, he incapacitated her by snapping her leg. The sound of the bone breaking echoed through the room, causing wince backwards and lean in horror against Wren, who bore her weight well.  

Klaus's gaze shifted purposefully towards Stefan. "It's interesting, isn't it? Everyone gets what they want in the end. Stefan will die heroically, Jenna will live, and you… get to save Jenna,“ he mused, a cruel glint in his eyes. “Ah, but I'm forgetting someone, aren't I?" Klaus chuckled darkly, dragging Stefan. 

Wren listened carefully, working to unravel Klaus’ schemes. Suddenly, a loud protest from Elena jolted her out of her thoughts. Elena struggled against Wren's hold, and in the fray, Wren lost her grip on the knife, dropping it to the ground. She released Elena, reaching for the knife. Klaus saw his chance and quickly sprang into action in a flash of movement, kicked the knife away.

"Tsk tsk," Klaus chided, his smirk growing wider as he revelled in his victory. He towered over her, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. He reached out and seized her by the arm, pulling her up to her feet. ""You will pay for your disobedience later, little one,” he growled, his voice low and menacing.

"I know I messed up, but you have to understand. They begged me for help, what was I supposed to do? I’m weak like that. I think its cause I’m a people pleaser at heart. Plus, it was a tiny knife, I wasn’t actually going to hurt her” Wren nervously laughed, hoping her shameless pleas for forgiveness would garner her some pity from the enraged Klaus.

Klaus gave her a withering look, unimpressed by her brazen excuses. He grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards a nearby tree, his grip strong and unyielding.

“Wait, maybe they compelled me. She’s a vampire, isn’t she?” Wren offered, her eyes darted around pitifully in desperation. Klaus paused, his gaze locking onto hers as he leaned down to her level. "Is that so?" he growled; his disappointment evident in his tone.

Wren let out a defeated sigh. "Okay, fine. They didn't compel me," she admitted, resigned to her fate as Klaus continued to drag her towards the tree and compel her to be still.

"You've made a grave mistake, little thief. But for now, I have more pressing matters to attend to. I'll deal with you later," his voice rang low and menacing, forcefully tilting Wren's chin meet his eyes. "You are not to move a muscle until I say otherwise. Is that clear?"

“Yes,” Wren forced a nod, feigning a dazed look as she pretended to be under the effects of Klaus' compulsion. Marissa’s vervain necklace- now hers, remained carefully concealed underneath her clothes, its cold silver chain filling her with reassuring coolness as she silently praised herself for the foresight of always wearing the necklace. 

Klaus flashed towards Elena and pushing her back into the circle of fire, while Greta cast a spell to make the flames rise higher. "Be a dear and stay put," he warned her sternly. With a swift and effortless motion, Klaus plunged a stake into Jenna's lower back, eliciting a cry of agony from her.

Wren winced as the stake drove through Jenna's back, but she soon realized that it had not pierced her heart. She was still alive, and Wren could see the fear in her eyes as Niklaus approached her decisively.  Wren knew it was too late, there was nothing to be done.

“Jenna, turn it off, you won’t be scared anymore,” Elena coached her aunt through the pain, tears streaming her eyes as she silently bid Jenna goodbye.

I just need to close my eyes, and  wait for him to get it over with, her rational voice urged as she shut her eyes tightly the memory of the werewolf girl's gruesome death was still fresh in her mind, and she didn't want to add Jenna's death to it. Wren bit down on her cheek, drawing blood as she tried to push the thoughts away. She knew that dwelling on them wouldn't change anything, wouldn't bring Jenna back. But the pain and the guilt were still there, gnawing at her from the inside.

There’s nothing I can do for her. So… get a grip, Wren, she scolded herself. Jenna as good as dead and there's nothing I can do about it. I just need to focus on staying alive. Think, think!" Wren shook her head, trying to clear the fog of despair and fear that threatened to overwhelm her.

Elena's piercing scream shattered the silence, jolting Wren out of her thoughts. A wave of nausea washed over her as the harsh reality of Jenna's death hit her with full force, causing her stomach to churn. Despite knowing that Klaus' compulsion didn't work on her, Wren felt as if she were rooted to the spot, unable to move. She slowly opened her eyes, the sight that greeted her was Jenna's lifeless body on the ground, her eyes lacking their usual warmth and her skin taking on an ashen hue.     

Amidst the turmoil of her emotions, there was one feeling that stood out to her but remained inexplicable - a sense of loss. It seemed absurd, almost laughable, given that she had only just met the woman mere moments ago. Yet, despite the brevity of their acquaintance, she couldn't help but feel a certain fondness for the older woman, a connection that now left her feeling empty.

The voices in her head berated her for allowing herself to become attached to Jenna, knowing full well what undoing Klaus’ curse entailed. She had accepted and even rationalised that scarifies were necessary and those people unfortunate enough to be implicated were simply unlucky. As long as it wasn’t her, her mind had always found convenient ways to justify using others. Even now, she knew she could easily numb her conscience with a few drinks if it were someone else, anyone other than Jenna, that had been sacrificed. 

It was unlike her to act on impulsive bouts of bravery to save someone else. She knew she would never have confronted Klaus or threatened him under normal circumstances, but she did it. In disbelief, a part of her couldn't help but wonder if Jenna had compelled her and somehow negated the effects of the vervain necklace.  

The notion conflicted her, she wanted to believe it was the result of another’s brainwashing or at least, only a temporary lapse in her judgement caused by the chaos and confusion of witnessing the she-wolf’s gory end. To affirm what she already knew of herself, she was a coward, the same one who abandoned her brother. Someone incapable of being of stupid enough to recklessly endanger self for another. 

But then, remembering Jenna’s warm eyes, she knew it wasn’t the case. She had done it of her own volition. And Jenna's death was going to weigh on her. It was stupid of her to get involved in the first place, but she had. And now she was left to shoulder the weight of Jenna's untimely death.

Klaus stepped away from the dead body as Greta continued to chant. Wren noticed that Stefan had awoken, though still carrying the pain of his wounds. The vampire ushered apologies in hopes of comforting Elena.

Only, wren couldn't help but notice Elena's eyes shift from one of grieving to a burning anger and hatred in the doppelganger’s eyes, directed towards Klaus. It was clear that Jenna's death had left a deep impact on her, and she was now determined to seek revenge.

Elena whispered, "Are the others going to kill him?" 

Chapter Text

“Yes,” Stefan muttered lowly. Wren’s eyes narrowed contemplating Stefan’s words. they have back-up coming! How many? As Klaus poured Jenna's blood into the mixture, Wren's gaze shifted from him to Stefan and Elena. Her mind buzzing with the two sides, weighing who would ultimately win. She had defied Klaus before, but only because she wanted to save Jenna. Though with Jenna now gone, she felt liberated from that obligation and free to make her own choices.

She did not want to take any decisive actions that would hinder or support Klaus's transformation. Although he was angry with her at the moment, she had confidence in her ability to placate him, as she had done in the past. So, she waited, seemingly heeding Klaus’ compulsion, for the impending arrival of Elena’s supernatural friends.

“It’s time,” Klaus declared, the flames confining Elena withered as he encroached Elena’s space, looming over her as she knelt, before offering his hand. Elena disregarded his outstretched hand with a scowl as she rose to her feet independently. With her chin held high, she walked towards Greta. Near the altar, her heart felt heavy, and her steps were slow. Her eyes fell on Jenna's lifeless form, and a stifled choke overcame her.

Despite her attempt to appear fearless to her impending doom, her tear-stained cheeks gave away her true emotions. Stefan squirmed on the ground, his wounds causing him to wince in pain as he watched the unshed tears pool in Elena’s eyes.  

Klaus lifted Elena's chin, stealing her gaze away from her deceased aunt, to meet her eyes. He spoke in a tone of genuine appreciation, "Thank you, Elena. I will ensure that your name and contributions are not forgotten."

Suppressing a derisive scoff, Wren observed Klaus's expression of awe towards Elena, as if she had willingly and heroically offered herself as his sacrifice.

While keeping a close eye on the events unfold, Wren’s eyes accidentally passed over Jenna’s lifeless form, feeling slightly overwhelmed by a wave of numbness. A sudden barrage of questions erupted in her mind. She wondered what she was doing here, in this world that wasn't hers, surrounded by strangers of different norms, species and worlds.

She longed for home, but where was that exactly? A real home… the only resembling it was the one in the past and…perhaps Klaus's estate. All she longed for was the quiet, a respite from the constant running and tumultuousness that was her life. And she had found it, albeit after much effort, in Klaus' estate. She couldn’t deny the occasional bouts of loneliness experienced at Klaus' estate; their amusing nightly conversations were a source of comfort that helped ease the emptiness she often felt inside. Yes, that's where she wanted to be, away from this place, away from the sight of Jenna's death.

“Go to hell,” Elena spat, jerking away from Klaus’ grip. Klaus smiled, amused at her defiance and pushed aside her hair, baring his fangs against her neck.

Wren stilled, leaning against the tree where she’d been compelled to stay, as Klaus fed on Elena with little regard for her well-being. Stefan watched nearby pleading for Klaus to stop, helpless and anguished, unable to intervene or stop Klaus from draining Elena's life. The doppelganger’s complexion grew paler, and her body went limp as Klaus continued to drink from her. Eventually, he released her body to the ground, her blood spilling out of his mouth as he took one last gulp to satiate his thirst. 

"I can feel it happening," Klaus exhaled, as if he had been holding his breath for a thousand years. The curse, imposed by his mother, was finally coming undone. He stumbled, descending from the altar, his relief palpable. The clouds parted, and the moon light illuminated, as if acknowledging the momentous occasion.

The sight captivated Wren. Under the moons protective light, Klaus appeared inhuman, beyond his already supernatural state. For once, emerging as more a creature of light than darkness. Klaus revelled in the ecstasy of unbinding the curse and reuniting with his other half, Wren’s eyes hesitantly flicked, her attention drawn to the sudden appearance of a new girl. Backup? Her suspicions were confirmed, as the stranger began chanting, her arms outstretched towards Klaus, who seemed completely unaware of her presence. Suddenly, Klaus was hurled back by a powerful force.  Bonnie? What? I thought he said she was dead, Wren speculated, remembering clearly that Klaus has told of Elena’s powerful witch friend.  

Bonnie's gaze darted around the area, pausing at Wren, who looked to her warily. Wren was surprised by Bonnie's sympathetic smile, but she assumed that the witch thought she was a normal civilian caught up in supernatural drama.

Greta looked startled by the newcomer's presence before a man suddenly appeared behind her and snapped her neck. The sound of bones cracking was so resounding that Wren wasn’t sure if it was coming from Klaus or Greta, either way, she was sure the sound would follow her into her nightmares.

As Bonnie's chanting grew more fervent, Klaus's screams of agony intensified in response. On the other side, the man who killed Greta kneeled beside Elena’s corpse and effortlessly lifted her.

Klaus's angry cry echoed through the air as his hands pressed against his temples, attempting to ease the pain. "No, Bonnie, you were dead," he shouted, causing her chanting to intensify even more.  

The man removed the stake from Stefan's chest, letting him speak through his pain, "Damon...you need to leave. Take her with you. I'm not leaving until he's dead,” Stefan urged, his tone determined to avenge Jenna. Damon…Damon…his brother!! Wren realised, only then noting their resemblance to one another. 

Damon gave an assuring nod to his brother, before catching Wren’s curious and intruding gaze, shrugging at her awkward smile, before flashing off carrying Elena. Suppose I can’t hitch a ride, Wren glumly sighed, returning her attention to Klaus.

Klaus struggled against the pain, his eyes searching the surroundings until they settled on Wren—he’d forgotten of her existence. A cunning grin cast his pained expression as he remembered his purpose for bringing her here. She was his safeguard, a means to gain strength during his vulnerable transition. He had anticipated that his enemies would make a move against him, but he hasn’t expected Bonnie’s presence. But Wren’s blood would allow him to overcome the temporary vulnerability of his transition, he would be able to tap into his true powers.

Clutching his head in agony, the sharp, relentless pain stabbing at his temple, he attempted to stumble toward Wren. However, the pain was too much to bear, and he fell to his knees in agony.

Despite the obvious writhing and pained screams coming from Klaus, Wren tried her best to ignore him and averted her gaze. Even so, it took but one moment of carelessness as her eyes regretfully locked with Klaus’ imploring eyes.

She shot him an incredulous look, silently yet aggressively expressing "what do you expect me to do?" She stood rooted to the spot, watching him writhe in agony. She didn’t want him to die, but she judged that he deserved to writhe in pain for a few minutes- a small measure of retribution for what he had done to Jenna. Honestly, what am I supposed to do?!!  She’s a witch!! If anything, I’m more likely to end up a hostage…and that’s if Klaus is even willing to save me. Even in that, he has a better chance than me… Ah, she realised, that jerk just wants my blood.  

The wind howled and the trees swayed in response, as Klaus continued to thrash on the ground in agony. Bonnie stood with her feet firmly planted, her hands held out in front of her. Her eyes glowed with a fierce intensity as she focused all her power on Klaus. Wren couldn’t help but admire the witch as another burst of energy surged from her fingers and struck Klaus.  Despite, the tears streaming down Bonnie's face for friend, she held her composure.

She might actually win, Wren pondered, if she does, Klaus will be done for. I mean, he was the one to start the fight, and I guess, they were just defending themselves. They’re the good guys…if they win, I’ll be free. Wren didn't feel as hopeful as her words may have suggested, her thoughts then turned to her uncertain future. But free to do what? To go back to sleeping in shelters and stealing. The prospect of a future where the good guys…where Bonnie emerged victorious no longer seemed appealing to Wren.

As she noticed Bonnie bleeding from her eyes, nose, and ears, Wren's mind was flooded with doubts. The intensity of the magic was causing Bonnie to collapse from the inside, unable to handle the weight of her powers. Doubt she’s doing to last long the way this is going, Wren judged, turning to look at Stefan, who was still incapacitated from his wounds. On the other hand, Klaus seemed to be enduring Bonnie’s powers, slowly acclimating to the pain.  Wren assessed the situation carefully, gauging the outcome. if she’d struggling now, then what’s going to happen when Klaus fully harnesses his hybrid powers.

Ok let me think this through. If I side with Bonnie and Klaus wins, I'm dead for sure." She shuddered at the thought. "But if I side with Klaus and Bonnie ends up winning, they might go easy on me. I mean, I did try to save Jenna. That has to count for something, right? Besides, Bonnie’s here to save Elena. So, I doubt, she’s got murdering me or anyone besides Klaus on her mind. Worst comes to worst, I’ll just act compelled, I’m sure, they’d be more sympathetic if I feign capture…FEIGN!! Capture, Wren thoughts trailed off as she realised her mistake. Feign what, he did kidnap me, she insisted, swallowing her doubts, and feeling a strange twinge of loyalty to Klaus.

Bonnie took a momentary break from her chanting, the strain of the spell evident on her face. She closed her eyes, wincing in discomfort as she wiped away the blood from her nose. Meanwhile, Wren picked up the knife Klaus had kicked away and hesitantly approached Klaus, who was still writhing in pain, nearly unconscious from Bonnie's spell. She sat beside him, watching him closely and considering her options carefully.

Feeling a sudden presence beside him, Klaus tensed before realizing it was Wren. In his disorientation, he didn’t notice nor question how Wren was able to move despite his compulsion.

He immediately lunged at her, forcing her down to the ground with a loud thud. Wren winced, feeling the back of her head throbbing with pain. Instant regret welled inside her as Klaus dug his sharp claws into her arms to keep her still. His eyes had turned amber, baring his fangs, but Klaus eyes remained fixed on her neck as though he couldn’t see past her blood. Wren fought back, kicking him in the stomach and desperately trying to create some distance between herself and his deadly fangs. She made a conscious effort to keep quiet, not wanting to alert Bonnie, who remained distracted by her own pain.

“Hey, I’m here to help, please don’t eat the help” Wren mouthed, taking the knife and cutting into her arm, to offer to Klaus in exchange for him staying clear of her neck. Without hesitation, he was drawn to the scent of the fresh cut and sank his fangs into Wren's arm desperately. Her body tensed up as Klaus's sharp fangs punctured her skin with a sudden and violent force, causing a muffled cry of pain to escape her.  

“No!!” Stefan shouted, noticing what she was doing.

His alarm seemed enough to catch Bonnie’s attention, the witch's eyes widened as she realized what was happening, and she began to chant even louder, channelling all of her power to subdue Klaus. The effects of Bonnie's spell on Klaus seemed to work, causing his grip on Wren to falter. With her arm free, Wren quickly crawled away, putting as much distance as possible between herself and the dangerous vampire.  

OK, that’s it. No more, I’ve done my share. The rest is on him, Wren judged firmly, trying to quell her rising panic. Klaus’ blood-lust-filled eyes pulsed in her mind, she knew that without Bonnie’s intervention, she would not have escaped his hold. Klaus's eyes widened with a newfound surge in power. Despite Bonnie's desperate chanting, Klaus seemed almost immune as he rose to his feet championing a smile on his blood-stained face.

Bonnie’s face Twisted with worry and fear as Klaus roared in anger and paced towards her. His eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure as he imagined ways to torture her, far more excruciating than anything she could do to him.

Wren was surprised at how faint she felt, Klaus didn’t drink from her for long. She steeled against the dizziness that threatened to overtake her and make her lose consciousness.

Klaus strode forward with defiance, his words dripping with menace, “You’ve crossed me for the last time, witch,” he snarled, storming forward to attach Bonnie. . But before he could land a hit, a figure in a sleek black suit suddenly materialized in front of him. 

“Elijah, you finally make your entrance,” Klaus greeted with a placating tone.

“Hello brother,” Elijah responded, failing to mirror Klaus’ smile. He swiftly moved towards Niklaus and punctured Klaus’ chest with his bare hands. “In the name of our family-” he carefully twisted his hand and with it, Klaus’ heart.

Even with her blurry vision and lightheaded state, Wren recoiled in disgust as blood spattered out in all directions. Elijah’s hand controlled the pressure of the sputtering blood. Wren had hoped she was desensitised to it all, but still, she felt the rising bile in her throat. 

“I didn’t bury them at sea. Their bodies are safe,” Klaus said through gritted teeth, his voice strained with pain. He glared at Elijah, hoping to elicit some kind of reaction from him, but his brother remained stoic.

Wren eyes fixed on the confrontation between the Mikaelson brothers. Her heart raced with anxiety, hoping against hope that Klaus would show a shred of remorse or feign it, and beg his brother for forgiveness. Much to her dismay, Klaus adopted a defiant tone, “you kill me, and you’ll never find them,” Nik threatened.

Wren's frustration and disbelief grew as she observed the chaotic scene before her. She wanted to shake some sense into Klaus, to urge him to get on his knees and plead forgiveness. Announce he was a changed man, a pacifist, whatever it took.  Great, real smart. We have Bonnie and Stefan against us- well, against him. and he wants to through his brother into the mix.  

However, her irritation waned, noticing Elijah's hesitation. Klaus’ words seemed to take effect on his brother, as Elijah loosened his grip. Wren was not alone in this observation, “Don’t listen to him!!” Stefan yelled out.  

"I can take you to them," Klaus promised, heaving from the pain. "I give you my word, brother," Wren watched as Klaus's words seemed to have a absorbing effect on his brother.

Wren winced as a sharp ache pulsed at the back of her head, a painful reminder of when Klaus had tackled her to the ground. She was certain that she had lost a significant amount of blood, for in her disoriented state, she stumbled towards the scene, her mind clouded and muddled. A part of her was still fixated on shaking Klaus to his senses, as she had intended to do before.

Stefan rushed to Wren's side, catching her before she fell to the ground. "Hey, it's going to be okay. You’re alright, I’ve got you. He won't be able to compel you anymore," he whispered to her, gripping her arm, and helping her stand. Wren could only stare at him, too drained to either refuse or express her gratitude. Stefan’ sudden movement caught the attention of the Mikaelson brothers, causing them to turn their heads in her direction.

Elijah looked at Wren with concern and then turned to his brother with disgust. “How could you have fallen so far from what you once were, brother? It sickens me to see you stoop so low, to harm a mere child no less," he exclaimed.  

Klaus gazed at Wren possessively, his eyes fixed on her even as Stefan supported her. However, he remained silent in response to Elijah's accusations, neither accepting nor denying them. Klaus’ look did not go unnoticed by his perceptive brother, Elijah, who speculated that Klaus favoured the girl more than he let on. Elijah couldn't help but feel a small glimmer of hope—one he wanted to cautiously tend to before letting his optimism get the best of him, only to face disappointment as his efforts to encourage his brother’s redemption had many times before.   

Knowing that his brother, often cold and ruthless, incapable of feeling anything but anger and hatred, looked at the young raven-haired girl with a faint of concern, was enough for him to believe his brothers promises of reuniting him with their family.

“Do it, and I’ll take you both out,” Bonnie warned, her eyes narrowed as she spoke with a sharp edge.  

Despite the weariness on her face, she stood tall and confident, ready to attack the two originals.

“You’ll die in the process,” Elijah weighed.  

“I don’t care,” Bonnie retorted, unyielding.   

"Brother," Nik pleaded with Elijah. Elijah hesitated for a moment, considering his next move. He looked to his brother’s pained expression, setting alight determination in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he finally said, turning to Stefan. 

Stefan quickly but carefully pushed Wren to the side, attempting to shield her from the chaos that was about to unfold. He watched helplessly as Elijah flashed towards Nik, grabbing him in a swift motion. And, with one fluid movement, Elijah also whisked Wren along with them. The wind whistled around Stefan as he watched the three figures disappear from sight. A sinking feeling washed over him as he realized that their plan had failed.

Chapter Text

Wren's consciousness drifted in and out as she struggled to stay awake. She could hear the sound of voices, but they were too distant and muffled to make sense of. When she finally regained full consciousness, she found herself alone in the forest with the sun slowly rising in the sky. Looking around, she noticed a black suit jacket draped over her, but there was no sign of anyone else. 

Wren sat for a while, trying to gather her thoughts and figure out what had happened. Impatience began to set in as she assumed she had been left behind. Just as she was about to stand up, a voice spoke from behind her, starling her.

"Good morning. It seems you've awoken. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Elijah Mikaelson, brother to Klaus Mikaelson and an Original vampire," Elijah said with a small smile as he adjusted his white shirt cuff.   

Elijah’s his polite disarming smile and rigidly tall and straight posture did little to alleviate Wren’s cautionary nature as she deliberately moved away from him, uncertainty creeping in as she realized she was alone with a vampire in the middle of a forest. She couldn't shake her wariness.

"I apologize for frightening you earlier. Though I find it is necessary when dealing with Niklaus’ temperament," Elijah stated, his tone composed yet tinged with a hint of disappointment as he thought of his unbridled younger brother.

“Where’s Klaus?” Wren asked, skipping introductions.

"I find it quite astonishing that my brother has managed to earn the fondness of a human like you," Elijah observed, his eyes brimming with suspicion ad intrigue.

Wren hesitated before responding, “Well, I wouldn’t say fond is the right word,” the word left a strange taste in her mouth as she thought of Klaus.

Elijah chuckled softly, noting Wren's hesitation and the discomfort that lingered in her words. Her defensiveness of her feelings to Klaus amused him. "It's likely that he's still in his wolf form, and unfortunately, in that state, he has little self-control or regard for any living being nearby, which is why I hesitate to leave you alone."

He’s already like that without a dose of wolf steroids, “Well, at least, he has 1000 years of perfecting his howling skills under his belt,” Wren's looked around the forest with renewed wariness, hoping to hear in the distance Klaus’ howling, whatever it would sound like. She brushed off the dirt from her pants and picked out the leaves from her hair. The dried blood that had once been smeared on her face was still visible, cracking at the edges as Wren rubbed her thumbs against it with vigour, trying to rid herself of any remaining traces. She avoided thinking about whose blood was smeared on her face - whether it was hers, Stefan's, or Jenna's. The thought made her stomach turn. 

"It appears that my brother has deemed you trustworthy enough to have divulged the details of our kind,” Elijah fixed his piercing gaze upon the girl, his refined voice carrying an air of discernment as he detected that despite Wren’s light-hearted comments, her held her guard, an underlying apprehension to her surroundings.

Wren suppressed a scoff at the idea of Klaus trusting anyone besides himself, "Oh sure, Klaus and I are like two peas in a pod…What that saying? Thick as thieves,” she said sarcastically.

Though, she didn’t try too hard to hide it, her sarcastic tone did not go unnoticed by Elijah as he raised an eyebrow at her, expressing his disapproval of her remarks.

She cleared her throat, “I don’t think he ‘trusts’ me. Or anyone else for that matter, convinced that everyone is plotting against him," she shrugged.

“If that were the case, why are you still alive?” Elijah challenged, looking at her intently.

Wren wasn’t sure why, but she kept quiet about Klaus experimenting with her blood.  Perhaps, it was her uncertainty towards where Elijah’s loyalty lay. “"I'm not completely sure, but I suspect he thinks I'm some kind of good luck charm. A pet-project. You’d have to ask him though to be sure, I don’t dare answer on his behalf” Wren offered, nonchalantly.

Elijah chuckled, returning to his poised smile. "That is indeed true. You have depicted my brother in a more precise light than most," he said.

Wren’s gaze lingered on Elijah’s face, hesitant to reveal her thoughts. “And yet, you believe his words of reuniting you with your family?” she quipped, but quickly backtracked as she noticed his polite smile falter. "Sorry, my mouth tends to run ahead of my brain."

Elijah’s amused smile dissipated as her words sank in. “You are right, Klaus’ mind is a labyrinth of deceit. Even as his brother, I, too, have put my trust in Klaus on numerous occasions, and I can attest that it often comes at a cost," Elijah remarked solemnly. “I know that with him, everything comes with a price,” he looked at Wren determinedly, “And, so in return for keeping you safe, I'll reunite with my family.”

“I’d hate to burst your bubble. but believe me, Klaus isn’t exactly going to lose sleep over my existence,’ she clarified, feeling a bit sorry for Elijah. ”I kid not, I’m pretty sure he’s forgotten my name a few times and just covers it up with his childish nicknames,” Wren chuckled.  

Wren could feel Elijah's intense gaze on her, scrutinizing her every word and expression. She met his gaze directly, keeping her expression as steady as she could make it. Guess the Mikaelson family heirloom is a healthy dose of suspicion and paranoia. It was clear that even though he seemed more controlled and calculated than his volatile brother, his own suspicion was never far from the surface, the only difference was Klaus was more honest about it.

She even speculated that Elijah's dishonesty towards himself and others was the primary reason he didn’t simply compel the truth out of her. It was a way for him to conceal himself behind his facade of politeness and civility, decorated with his refined and elegant suit.

Elijah turned away; his attention seemingly drawn to some far-off sound. "I do believe that Niklaus has satiated his thirst by now,” his eyes narrowed slightly, as if searching in the distance.

. “If you would be so kind,” he gestured gracefully, extending his elbow as an invitation for her to hold on.

"No, thank you," Wren retorted sharply, memories of her previous experience with Klaus’ flashing flooded back along with a wave of nausea. “I’ll trail behind you on foot…” she added, sighing in acknowledgment the impracticality of the option. “You know what would be handy, if you left a trail of breadcrumbs?” she let out a dry chuckle, while secretly buying herself a few moments to prepare for the inevitable.

Elijah's eyes softened with empathy, acknowledging the suffering Klaus had likely inflicted on her. "Rest assured, the journey will be far more pleasant," he assured her with a gentle smile, understanding the Klaus’ lack of accommodation and consideration Klaus. Wren surveyed her surroundings, her uncertainty palpable, and reluctantly acquiesced.

The fear of their journey surpassed any concerns about personal boundaries, and she clung to Elijah with a fervour that spoke of her life depending on it. With a nod of warning, he initiated their swift journey through the forest, causing Wren to tighten her jaw in anticipation that somehow or rather she might collide into a tree. As they ventured deeper into the forest, Wren's initial apprehensions gradually subsided. To her relief, the disorienting waves of nausea didn’t come about to assault her senses at every twist and turn. Instead, a gentle breeze caressed her cheeks, while the fleeting touch of leaves brushed against her skin as they swiftly moved through the dense foliage.  Ok, that settles it then. He is the good brother.  Wren loosened her grip, finding a sense of assurance that the rest of the travel would be as he promised- pleasant.   

Finally, amidst her admiration of the lush forest surrounding them, Wren's gaze caught a glimpse of Klaus's dirty blonde hair in the distance, standing out against the natural backdrop. Elijah released her from his grasp and, as if conjured from thin air, produced a set of clothes. She guessed he had gotten them while her eyes were shut or glued to the trees.

Regardless, Wren’s relieved face contorted into that of disgust as he turned to face them, fully reverting back into his bare bodied human form, his face bore the remnants of his wild feast and a contended smile graced his lips. 

While Elijah approached Klaus, Wren abruptly halted a few steps away, averting her gaze in a deliberate attempt to avoid seeing more of him. “Ugh, a little heads up would’ve been nice. Not exactly into getting flashed this early in the morning,” her nose wrinkled at the offensive sight.  

Elijah's sigh resonated through the air as he nonchalantly tossed some clothing towards Nik, who caught it with a mischievous grin. Casting his gaze upon the two of them, it was as if he had emerged from a deep slumber, brimming with an insatiable curiosity for the world of the living. With a tinge of admonishment, Elijah couldn't help but comment, "You’ve been busy."

“Ah. My noble brother and loyal follower…that was amazing, how long has it been?” Klaus beamed, his eyes seeming lighter. Wren, keeping her gaze averted, strained her ears to catch the fading sound of rustling fabric.

“Almost 2 days, full moon came and went, you remained a wolf,” Elijah spoke, surprising Wren who thought she’d been out for a few hours. 2 days!! I was out cold for 2 days!! Wren processed, a mixture of disbelief and frustration evident in her voice. That bastard nearly drank me dead!  

"I can change at will then, that's good to know," Klaus remarked, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "I remember every single kill," he added, relishing the memories of his hunting spree. Wren's mind urged him to hurry as she heard the distinct sound of his belt being buckled.

“Indeed, brother. I’ve been busy tidying up after your reckless actions and making sure you don't cause any harm to this young woman," Elijah sighed, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub his temples in frustration.

"Now, release her from compulsion and allow her to go back to her home, for goodness' sake," he pleaded, the weariness evident in his voice.

“You wound me, brother. Am I so vile? Is it truly so difficult to fathom that little Wren here follows me of her own accord?” Klaus placed a hand to his heart, pronouncing his hurt, only to playfully yield to a sly smirk. He swiftly turned, materializing next to Wren, and clasping her neck tightly. "Leaving me wondering... why?" The light-hearted, boyish grin on his face was swiftly wiped away, replaced by a suspicious and intense stare.

Wren's mouth fought to express its astonishment, stifled by the vice-like grip around her neck. Desperation coursed through her veins as she struggled against his tightening hold, the precious air slipping away from her lungs. In the whirlwind of her thoughts, anger and frustration surged, fueling her determination to find the right words to pacify the fragile ego of the millennia-old vampire. A bitter scoff escaped her lips, mingling with the air that grew increasingly scarce. How foolish she had been to feel a semblance of safety in Klaus's presence, nights filled with slightly vulnerable conversations now rendered meaningless.

"Brother, release her. I refuse to stand idly by and witness you descend further into the clutches of your own paranoia to the point of threatening a child no less," Elijah's gaze bore into his brother, his voice firm and resolute. Surprisingly, Wren found herself inwardly doing something she had never anticipated: appreciating her young age as the sole reason Elijah defended her.

Wren's voice trembled slightly as she coughed, sneaking a large inhale as Klaus hold eased. Despite her dire situation, she mustered an equally sly grin reminiscent of Klaus himself. She responded matter of fact with little ounce of shame of self-consciousness, “I'm picky. I’ll make friends with anyone I need to. Going hungry and dumpster diving has a way of humbling a person.”

The two originals fixated their gaze on her, their expressions akin to witnessing the profound revelation of an apocalyptic prophecy. Nik's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized her, eventually releasing his grip. “There you have it, dear brother. See for yourself, I trust now that you believe I haven’t been compelling her accompany me?" he stated, releasing Wren as a smug smile danced on his lips.    

Elijah's brow arched disapprovingly, a clear indication of his displacement. “You’ve had your fun, but I believe we have a bargain,” Elijah reminded, sternly.  

“That’s right, now what was it again…Ah right, you wish to reunite with your family,” Klaus teased, his finger dancing on his chin as though in thought.

“You gave me your words Niklaus,” Elijah’s voice seethed with restrained anger, his composure a testament to his mastery of self-control.

“What brother would I be to break his bond. Even though you did try to kill me,” his tone tinged with a mix of defiance and underlying hurt. As he turned around, Elijah gracefully draped a jacket over Niklaus, a gesture that spoke of their complicated yet enduring familial connection. Wren wasn’t sure whether to expect a impending fight between the two brothers or not, what with Klaus incessant provocations and Elijah’s slowly lifting veil of cool. 

“I could have…but I didn’t,” Elijah's words carried a dual message, half warning and half reassurance.

“You couldn’t, thanks to Wren here. And now, no one can, not even you,” he wore the jacket with exuberance and turned around to face his brother. “Relax Elijah. All is forgiven,” he goaded.

“Where are they? I will not ask again, Nik” Elijah's voice grew cold and stern, a subtle yet undeniable threat laced within his words. His unwavering gaze bore into Klaus, leaving no room for evasiveness or further deception.   

“You need to lighten up. I will bring you to them soon enough,” Klaus smirked mischievously, his hands landing on Elijah's shoulders with a playful touch.

"Now!" Elijah's voice reverberated with impatience; his tone laced with a firm threat. In an instant, he flashed towards Wren, seizing her by the throat. "I apologize for the necessity of this action, but it appears there is no other recourse. My brother seems determined to push me into a moral quagmire, and regrettably, you have become the only leverage that holds any value to him," Elijah's gaze shifted to Klaus, his grip on Wren's neck tightening ever so slightly.

Wren's throat constricted, a mixture of frustration and annoyance surging within her, overpowering any lingering traces of fear. This is becoming rather tiresome and exasperating, she thought, her irritation palpable.

Niklaus, taken aback by the intensity of the situation, felt his smirk fade away. He approached Elijah and Wren, his tone laced with a chilling warning. "Elijah, you would be wise to tread carefully with my dear friend here. Should any harm befall her, I assure you, I will personally orchestrate a most unpleasant family reunion, with each of our siblings securely staked," his threat hung in the air, a solemn promise echoing with a menacing undertone.

Wren, desperate to appeal to Elijah's better nature, strained to convey her plea, hoping that he, as the ‘good brother’, would respond. Elijah didn’t even offer her a single glance, instead enmeshed in the mind game with Klaus. She groaned in frustration, though glad that Elijah’s hold was not as tight as Klaus’.

Klaus observed the unfolding scene, refusing to succumb to Elijah's petty threats. The tension in the air grew palpable, as both brothers faced off, their unspoken conflict hanging in the balance. Klaus held firm in his belief that his brother would not harm the girl. Though his jaw tightened with unease as Elijah constricted his grip around her neck, a challenge was issued to Niklaus.

In that moment, Elijah's intentions shifted. While he had initially intended to use Wren as leverage to compel Niklaus into reuniting with their family, a new thought took hold. Perhaps this was an opportunity to test the depths of his brother's attachment to the girl. Could she hold the power to awaken the dormant compassion within Niklaus and restore the benevolent and caring brother he remembered from their youth? Elijah's resolve solidified as he sought to uncover the truth, driven by a hope that flickered deep within his heart.

"Elijah, you have my word, and it remains unbroken," Klaus asserted, his voice carrying a resolute tone. He locked eyes with his brother, a firm and unwavering gaze that conveyed his determination. "I will fulfill my promise to reunite you with our family. However, should any harm befall her..." Klaus's words trailed off, leaving the threat hanging in the air.

The tension in the room grew thick as both brothers stood, locked in a momentary silence. The only sound that filled the space was the sound of Wren's laboured breathing. Finally, Elijah released his grip on her, lowering her gently to the ground, before straightening his attire with a composed air. Wren's eyes bore into Elijah with a piercing glare, torn between her desire to despise him and a begrudging understanding of his motives. The notion of relinquishing the opportunity to be reunited with one's family for the sake of a mere stranger seemed unfathomable. Yet, even as she rationalized his actions, the lingering pain in her neck served as a constant reminder of the reality she found herself in.

"Excellent, I had faith that you would come to your senses," Klaus smiled confidently as he walked past Elijah and Wren. Unbeknownst to them, he cast a sidelong glance, subtly assessing her well-being and ensuring that Wren had no immediate wounds. Her neck bore the visible marks, an unpleasant reminder of the force with which he had held her. The skin surrounding the area displayed an angry, reddened hue, indicative of the pressure that had been applied.

Wren's scowl deepened at Elijah's apology, finding little solace in his words. Without hesitation, she hurriedly paced forward and made her way to Klaus side, seeking refuge in his presence. Having faced the imminent threat of death at the hands of Klaus only moments ago, Wren couldn't help but acknowledge the striking contrast between her reactions to him and Elijah.

Despite the danger he had posed, an inexplicable sense of safety enveloped her in Klaus's presence. Perhaps it was because they had shared a life-threatening experience together, forging an unlikely bond. She recognized the foolishness and naivety of her feelings, yet that knowledge did little to diminish the deep-rooted sense of security she felt with him. Or maybe I’m just being smart and logical about this. I mean, if Klaus is the stronger of the two, so better to butter up to him, She shrugged, trying to persuade herself into believing this.

A smile tugged at Klaus’ lips, a flicker of warmth igniting within him. It was an unfamiliar sensation for him, accustomed as he was to using his powers of compulsion to bend others to his will. This genuine act of seeking comfort from him stirred something within Klaus, leaving him both intrigued and touched.

Sensing Wren's discomfort with his presence, Elijah offered a final look of apology before swiftly moving forward with a flash of speed.  With his live, Wren felt an involuntary release of tension in her body. A sense of relief, albeit tinged with caution. With Nik still by her side, she cast a wary glance in his direction, a small movement away from his proximity hinting at her lingering apprehension.

"Now that my brother has departed, do enlighten me, why do you continue to follow me?" Klaus inquired; his gaze fixed on Wren. "You have made it quite clear that you abhor violence. I had assumed you would align yourself with Elena and the so-called heroic lot," he added, a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he observed her closely.

Wren chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she responded. "Oh, Klaus, you flatter me. Really though, don’t say I’m the first person you think of when you hear the word heroic?!”

“No, I don’t,” he chuckled, yielding to her. “but then, if I recall correctly, you tried to betray me by helping Jenna. Do you deny that?” His tone carried a mix of playfulness and curiosity, as he awaited her response, ready to engage in their verbal dance of wits.   

"Oh, indeed," Wren fired back with a hint of exasperation. "It's almost as if I personally lunged at you with a stake and witch voodoo. Oh, wait a minute, I didn't. Instead, I saved you!" Her voice carried a mixture of eagerness and frustration. She sighed disappointedly, “honestly, if it weren’t for me!” A sudden realization hit Wren like a bolt of lightning, causing her eyes to widen in disbelief. "You bastard," she gasped, her tone filled with a mix of indignation and suspicion. "You brought me there on purpose, didn't you? Why me? You could’ve brought a group of random strangers to feed on, but instead you brought me and nearly drained me. Why did it have to be me?" Her suspicion grew stronger, her voice dripping with suspicion and a touch of anger. She narrowed her eyes at Klaus, awaiting an explanation that would hopefully satisfy her growing doubts.

Klaus maintained a stoic silence in the face of her suspicious accusations. His eyes locked with Wren's, his expression unreadable. He seemed unperturbed by her probing questions, as if holding his cards close to his chest. The silence stretched on, creating an air of tension between them, as Wren anxiously awaited his response. It was clear that Klaus was not going to provide an immediate explanation, leaving Wren to wonder what secrets and motives he concealed behind his enigmatic gaze.

Fed up with Klaus's silence, Wren pressed on, determined to uncover the truth. "Fine, well, we both know you didn’t bring me because you trusted me to save you. Not after attempting to strangle me and interrogate me about my loyalty," she reasoned, her voice filled with a mix of frustration and determination.

"Why me? why my blood? MY blood!! Is it my blood?” she gasped, “the samples!!” She furrowed her brows, delving deep into her memory, recalling fragmented snippets of overheard phone conversations between Klaus and his accomplices. The pieces of the puzzle started to align in her mind, and she couldn't ignore the possibility that her blood held a significant value to Klaus, beyond what she had initially assumed.  

A realization dawned upon her, causing her lips to curl into a sly smile. Klaus had spared her life all this time, not just out of their agreement, but because her blood held a unique significance. The revelation filled her with a newfound sense of power and security. The realization danced in her eyes as she realized that she possessed something of great value to Klaus.   

Wren locked eyes with Klaus, a glimmer of cunning in her gaze. "Why don't we discuss terms, Klaus?" Her smile turned wolfish, brimming with a business-like demeanour. "I have something you want, and you have something I need. Let's see if we can strike a deal that benefits us both,” she straightened her jacket and cleared her throat. 

Klaus couldn't help but feel a mixture of admiration and exasperation as Wren astutely deduced her value to him. While he typically despised the triumphant and sneering looks on others, seeing it on Wren was different. There was a certain spark in her eyes, a cunning and resourcefulness that he found intriguing. It was as if she had unlocked a hidden potential within herself, and he couldn't help but be amused by her audacity. 

With a smirk adorning his lips, Klaus leaned in closer to Wren, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Oh, my little thief, it seems you've grasped the nature of our game," he remarked, his voice laced with a hint of playfulness. " Normally, I would have swiftly dispatched anyone who dared negotiate with me. But on account of our history,” his gaze locked with hers, his tone filled with both warning and intrigue. "Let us indeed talk terms but beware I am not one to be taken lightly. Are you prepared to waltz with the devil himself?"  

With newfound assurance, Wren's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glimmer as she met Klaus's challenge head-on. She tilted her head and offered him a sly smile. “Yeah, yeah. Nothing says 'serious negotiation' like a good old-fashioned spit handshake, right?” Wren retorted unable to hide her glee as her tone dripped with light sarcasm, causing Klaus to roll his eyes.

“let's get down to business. We've established that my blood holds value for you. So, what are the terms we're negotiating here? Should I start with demanding a lifetime supply of expensive brand clothing!! Or jewels?” Wren tried to veil her squeal of excitement. If she had a chair, she would surely lean back, crossing her legs and folding her arms.

“Out with it What is it that you desire in exchange for your ‘valuable’ blood?",” he exhaled, tired of her corrupt giggling.

“Don’t rush me! it’s not often that anyone gets to make terms with an original vampire- much less Klaus Mikaelson!” Wren massaged her chin in thought. “Got it,” Wren’s eyes beamed.

“That was quick?” Klaus commented.

“I’ve been thinking of things to ask you,” Wren smiled guiltily. “Well, first and foremost, I require access to your personal funds. Not just a mere allowance, mind you, but complete control over a generous portion. I have an eye for exquisite things, and I do enjoy a bit of retail therapy."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes, but shrugged, “suppose that’s no trouble.”  

Wren chuckled, " of course not, I wouldn’t impose upon your generosity by asking for the impossible. Rest assured. I have impeccable taste and a knack for finding the best deals. Your funds will be in good hands." She continued, her confidence growing with each request. "Next, vials of your blood upon request," she smiled innocently.

Klaus arched an eyebrow, suspicion flickering in his eyes. "My blood?" he asked, his tone laced with caution.

Wren shrugged casually. "it seems rather fair, considering I’m giving you mine. Oh, don't worry, Klaus. I won’t secretly turn. Consider it more like a magical potion that I can use to heal myself when you're not around.” She continued, noticing his sceptical look. “Just think of it as an investment in my survival. Besides, if I die, that means no more testing my blood for you, right?""

A smirk tugged at Klaus's lips "Ah, so you plan to stockpile my blood for emergency healing purposes. Quite resourceful, I must say. Though, what guarantee is there that you wont turn yourself,” he interrogated.

“Well, let’s break this down. If you give me your blood, I for one, would not be strong willed enough to off myself to turn into a vampire. So, that out. And the only other way I turn into a vampire if someone attacks me, and I die with your blood in me. Consider it a secret health insurance policy, besides, wouldn’t you prefer me an undead over being actually dead?!! I may not be able to offer my blood, but I promise I’ll still be a good drinking buddy.”

Klaus chuckled, unable to deny the logic in Wren's words. “Well, it seems you’ve some talent in negotiating.”

Wren grinned, revelling in her successful bargaining. "Thank you, Klaus. I just want to make sure that both party’s benefit. Besides, I’ve got experience, you know, one time I negotiated a guy out of his clothes.”   

Klaus' tone turned serious; his voice laced with a cold warning. "I must caution you, despite the generosity and privileges I have bestowed upon you, any trace of betrayal will result in swift and decisive consequences. I assure you; I have no qualms about ending you if need be."

Wren chuckled nervously, as she nodded aggressively.

"Aside from the privileges, why else do you remain loyal?" Klaus inquired, his voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of underlying suspicion.

Wren sighed, mentally preparing herself for Klaus' relentless interrogation. "Is that a trick question?" she retorted, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. She met his intense gaze head-on, unflinching. "Whatever I say will only fuel your paranoia, won't it?" She raised an eyebrow and nodded, acknowledging the challenge in his eyes. "Well, fine. Now that I'm not gasping for air, I can give you a proper answer," she continued, her tone laced with a mix of annoyance and determination. "Look, I'm not here because I think you're perfect... in fact, you're far from it. Let's not sugarcoat it. You're the epitome of a bad guy, ticking all the boxes." She paused, letting her words sink in before continuing. “But lucky for you. You excel at being the bad guy, more than the good guy is at being good” Wren remarked, her voice tinged with a hint of cynicism. She couldn't help but recall the pitiful, futile efforts of the late Elena and her friends to save the day granted it was due to her interruption.

“I have a feeling that you’re going to be the last one standing. it's a stroke of luck for you that I don't have a rigid moral compass. In fact, I'm just as horrid as you are. Wait, I retract that, I haven’t killed anyone, I guess I’m a better person.” Wren scoffed, at the standards she held herself to.  “So, I’m not asking you to trust me, I’m asking you to trust my will to survive.”

Klaus paused in silence, a flicker of surprise momentarily crossing his face. He had anticipated Wren to employ cunning tactics, to manipulate his emotions and appeal to his desire for understanding. Yet, her straightforwardness took him off guard. She hadn't tried to deceive him with false claims of comprehension or sympathy. Instead, she had unveiled her own self-preservation, her unyielding determination to survive. 

His lips curled into a wry smile as he regarded her. "Well, well, Wren," he said, his voice laced with a mix of intrigue and amusement. "You certainly have a knack for surprising me.”

Wren met his gaze, a glint of defiance shimmering in her eyes. "Survival is a primal instinct, Klaus," she replied evenly. "I make no apologies for it. And I have no illusions about your nature. We're both driven by the want to live freely, and if we can find common ground in that, perhaps there's some potential in our alliance. Besides, finding a new drinking buddy who's willing to be my personal food, drinks, and accommodation supplier seems like quite the chore," Wren remarked, a playful glint in her eyes.

Klaus's surprise transformed into something else. He recognized the raw desperation in her words, a desperation that couldn't be feigned. It was a sentiment he understood all too well. As the two continued walk, Wren comedically detailed how she had artfully negotiated the final article of clothing off the boy, earning a few scoffs from Klaus about her childishness.   

With a smile playing on his lips, Klaus extended his hand towards her. "With your speed, Elijah will have undoubtedly imagined the worst and prepared to end me," he commented. Wren couldn't help but roll her eyes, nevertheless reaching out and grasped his hand, in preparation for the flashing. As they embarked on their path, she couldn't help but notice that the travel was far less demanding and strenuous compared to their previous encounter. Klaus had taken the time to go slowly, taking her comfort into consideration.

Chapter Text

Exhausted from the long and trying days, Wren let out a weary sigh as she reached her room at the estate. The weight of her burdens seemed to reach its peak, so she chose to retreat to the solace of her own space. However, after a while, she could no longer ignore the commotion coming from downstairs. The mention of a woman's name, Katherine, and the voices of Stefan and Elena piqued her curiosity. Unable to resist the intrigue, she descended the stairs without bothering to conceal her footsteps. And there, in the midst of it all, stood Klaus, Elijah Stefan, and the deceased?! Elena- No Katherine!

Wren's gaze fell upon the woman in question, trying to match her allure with the descriptions Klaus had given. It was clear that this was the infamous Katherine, possessing the charm and magnetism that Klaus had detailed to her.

“I have an obligation to my brother that requires my immediate attention,” Klaus walked past Stefan. Elijah, standing nearby, attempted to clarify his previous betrayal. That’s right, Elijah betrayed Elena and Stefan to save Klaus… “There were circumstances that led me to make difficult choices, Stefan. My brothers made promises to reunite me with my family,” he explained.     

"And so, I shall," Klaus's voice dripped with determination as he swiftly appeared behind Elijah, dagger in hand. With a swift and precise motion, he plunged the dagger into his brother, putting him into a deep sleep. "Shhh," Klaus whispered softly, his eyes meeting Wren's as he acknowledged her presence.

“I’m going to back upstairs and pretend I’m still asleep,” Wren muttered sceptically, determined to avoid getting caught up in the chaos. She forced her eyes closed, blocking out the unsettling sight unfolding before her. Sensing the curious gazes of Stefan and Katherine on her, she added, “Hello Stefan, and you must be Katherine. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, bit considering the lifeless body of Elijah lying right here, and my weak constitution for gore, the pleasantries will have to wait.”

With that, she retreated to her bedroom, flopped onto her bed, and let sleep claim her.

Hours later, Wren awoke abruptly to a blood-curdling scream piercing through the silence, followed by sounds of a physical struggle. Did Elijah wake up and decide not to be the good brother.

Wren wiped the sweat that trickled down her forehead, a testament to her own restless slumber haunted by nightmares. Whilst contemplating barricading her door with a chair, she hesitated, realizing that the strength of the creatures downstairs rendered such a feeble defence useless. She traced the metal chain of her necklace, and with a determined brave resolve, decided to barricade her door anyway, before proceeding to go towards the window and gauging her likelihood of survival if she were to jump. Ok, well not through the door or the window.  

With careful listening, she eased overhearing Klaus’ familiar arrogant voice, and took the chair off the doorknob.   

Downstairs, she witnessed Klaus directing two men to position Elijah's body alongside the others, while instructing Stefan to pursue the frightened young girl. The girl sprinted in a state of panic, seemingly terrified. "A true ripper," Klaus remarked with a satisfied smile, glancing at Stefan, who swiftly intercepted the girl's path.

Wren approached the pair, lowering the knife to the ground with a measured pace. "Ah, care to join us for a little snack?" Klaus grinned, extending his hand towards Wren. She walked closer, but with a dismissive gesture, she declined his extended hand.

"Forgive the poor manners," Klaus chimed in with a smug grin, his voice dripping with pride. "Allow me to introduce you to the Ripper, Stefan, now new and improved thanks to a touch of my magic. Quite the masterpiece, if I do say so myself." Stefan remained engrossed in his feeding, paying no attention to Wren's presence. With a sudden frenzy, he sank his fangs into the girl's neck, his eyes turning dark and his thirst consuming him. As he drained her completely and tore out her throat, a disturbing smile crept across Stefan's face. Despite the gruesome display, Stefan seemed remarkably at ease and less burdened than Wren had remembered him.

Stefan appeared almost unrecognizable compared to the version of him that Wren remembered during the ritual. Gone was the gentle warmth that used to radiate from his eyes as he looked at Elena, replaced now by a chilling coldness. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she witnessed the astonishing transformation before her. The sheer magnitude of Klaus' compulsion powers to reshape a person so profoundly left her in awe. It was a testament to the depths of Klaus' supernatural abilities and the extent of his influence over the minds of others. She couldn't help but feel a mix of fascination and apprehension, realizing that Klaus held the power to mold and manipulate individuals to such an extraordinary degree.

"Now, we can finally escape this wretched town," Klaus remarked, his voice dripping with a mix of triumph and disdain. The lifeless body of the girl slumped to the floor, but Wren refused to let her gaze linger on the macabre scene. Instead, her eyes locked onto Klaus, a blend of defiance and reliance burning in her intense stare. She dared not look away, fearing the ghastly sight of a decapitated corpse that awaited her peripheral vision.

Before Wren could utter a single word, Stefan flashed towards her, his movements fueled by a savage hunger. He lunged, intent on sinking his teeth into her delicate neck, promising her the same fate as the unfortunate woman before her. However, Nik's swift reflexes intervened, wrenching Stefan away from Wren's vulnerable form with a raw display of strength.

"She's not on the menu, ripper," Klaus snarled, his grip firm as he effortlessly flung Stefan aside. Wren instinctively recoiled, her body tensing as Stefan lunged towards her with predatory intent. Without hesitation, she swiftly retreated towards Klaus, seeking refuge and protection in his presence. Her hand tightened around the handle of the knife she had retrieved, her grip steady and determined.

"Thanks," Wren muttered, her voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and wariness, one he acknowledged with a curt nod. His attention quickly shifted back to Stefan, who emitted a low, menacing growl, a clear indication of his conflicted state before reigning to Klaus words. 

"When are we leaving?" Wren cleared her throat, attempting to shift the focus to a different topic.

"We? You almost sound eager to accompany me," Nik remarked, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Well, I've decided to extend my stay for a little longer," Wren retorted, a playful glimmer in her eyes. "Your compulsion skills are quite persuasive, and the fact that you conveniently locked the doors didn't exactly leave me with many options. Besides, if there are more of these unpredictable vampires lurking around town," she gestured towards Stefan, her expression filled with concern, "I'd rather take my chances with you." Her sarcastic response was met with a smug smile from Klaus.

"Pack your bags, we're going on a road trip. We leave at dawn," Klaus instructed, his tone firm. Wren glanced at the watch on her wrist, calculating the remaining hours. Hmm, still have a few more hours to spare... What should I do? Definitely not going back to bed, she pondered silently.

"I'm going out," she spoke casually, hoping he'd dismiss her as she neared the door.

"And with whose permission?" Nik's voice rang out, and to her surprise, he appeared before her, blocking her path. She came to an abrupt halt, making sure not to bump into his chest. With an instinctual grace, she arched her back, leaning away from him and averting any unnecessary close contact. 

“I may not be as strong as you, but I assure you, I'm not lacking in the intelligence department. I have no plans to engage in a wild goose chase or test the limits of your endurance like chasing Katherine for five centuries.”

Wren's playful smile faded, sensing the seriousness in his eyes. "I need a smoke, alright? You’ve caught me. And I have no interest in your cigars; they taste weird," she added, trying to reason with him. "I'll be back before you even know it," she reassured, hoping to alleviate his concerns.

Wren let out an exasperated sigh, her weariness evident in her voice. "Look, being stuck in my room without a smoke is bound to sour my blood, and that won't do anyone any good," she quipped.   

"Try a cigar...again," Klaus suggested, guiding her further inside as his hands gently rested on her shoulders.

"Have you no sense of brand loyalty?!" she exclaimed in mock disbelief, pulling out an empty packet from her pocket and tapping the logo with exaggerated emphasis.

Klaus let out a weary sigh, his voice laced with a mixture of amusement and warning. "Fine but remember what happened to the last person who dared to run from me," he said, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.  

“Right. You chased her relentlessly for 500 years and killed her whole family. Got it,” with a winning smile, she turned on her heels, ready to make her grand exit.

"You may go, but be back before dawn," Klaus reluctantly permitted. As Wren stepped out, she released a pent-up breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Making her way past the estate gates, she hitched a ride into town, eager to distance herself from the overwhelming supernatural presence. Finally reaching the Mystic Grill, she took a seat and ordered the exact same sandwich she had on her first visit. As she waited for her meal, she couldn't help but reflect on the whirlwind of events that had unfolded. "How the hell did I end up here?" she pondered, a mix of disbelief and curiosity in her mind.

She silently consumed her sandwich, her thoughts consumed by the recent events and haunted by the image of Jenna's lifeless face. If I'm going to continue following Klaus around, I better get used it," she mused, acknowledging the grim reality. "No point in losing my appetite every time I see people dying." She retrieved her necklace from her pocket, contemplating reaching out to Marissa, a familiar connection in this unfamiliar world. Shaking her head, right and lead her back to Klaus.  

As she sat there, a hint of wistfulness crept into Wren's thoughts. She hadn't known Jenna and Marissa for long, and yet, there was a fleeting sense of disappointment at the lost possibilities. The two individuals she had formed some semblance of a connection within Mystic Falls—Jenna and Marissa—had both been taken from her, one by Klaus's literal hand and the other scared away. Yet, as she pondered her complex sentiments towards Klaus, a realization began to take shape within her. Perhaps the reason she didn't harbor the same intense hatred towards him as others did was because, he hadn't yet taken away or killed people she truly loved. There was a peculiar sense of relief in that realization. 

But it wasn't merely luck or circumstance that protected her from such heartbreak; it was a deliberate choice. Wren had always been careful, cautious not to form deep emotional bonds in the first place. She had learned to keep people at arm's length, shielding herself from the pain of loss that inevitably followed. It was a self-preserving strategy that had served her well in the past.

In a twisted way, Klaus's presence reaffirmed her commitment to this approach. While she couldn't deny the darkness that surrounded him or the destruction he had caused, she saw him as a reminder of the dangers of attachment. He became a cautionary tale, a walking embodiment of the consequences of allowing oneself to become too deeply entwined with others. Jenna and Marissa, although kind and familiar faces, had not yet solidified into irreplaceable bonds. They were like unfinished sketches, left incomplete before they could truly evolve into something meaningful.

With a firm resolve, Wren took a decisive bite out of her sandwich, savouring the flavours that momentarily distracted her from the lingering thoughts of Jenna and Marissa. As she chewed, she made a conscious effort to push those thoughts to the recesses of her mind, knowing that dwelling on what could have been would only hinder her progress.

Seated in the cozy corner booth, Wren savored the solitude she had sought outside the manor. With her sandwich before her, she relished each bite as she basked in the blissful absence of Klaus or anyone else hovering over her. This precious moment allowed her to settle into her own thoughts and confront the conflicts that swirled within her.

In the quiet ambiance of the restaurant, she found solace. The gentle murmur of conversations and the aroma of food enveloped her, creating a serene atmosphere that encouraged introspection. With each passing minute, Wren felt more grounded and centred. The conflicts that had once overwhelmed her began to unravel, replaced by a newfound sense of clarity and determination.

Absorbed in her own thoughts, Wren's attention was momentarily interrupted by a loud voice calling out "Jeremy!" The blonde's disregard for her surroundings and lack of an inside voice caught the attention of everyone in the restaurant. Wren's curiosity was piqued as she observed the interaction between the blonde and the boy named Jeremy.

With a mixture of intrigue and amusement, Wren watched as Jeremy's gaze shifted towards the blonde, his face lighting up with recognition and sitting beside her.

"Damon's doing better now from the werewolf bite. Katherine paid us a visit and gave us Klaus' blood as a cure. But Elena's still worried about Stefan," Jeremy explained, his voice carrying a hint of apprehension. "According to Katherine, Stefan traded himself to secure the cure."

Wren leaned in, her surprise hidden behind a composed facade. Thoughts raced through her mind as she absorbed the unexpected revelation. Elena, who was believed to be dead, seemed to have resurfaced, and the implications of this revelation were far-reaching.

Ugh, I didn’t need to know that. Klaus will not like this…. But then again, why should I deliver the news to him, who’s to say he won’t kill the messenger in his impulsiveness. A mix of concern and fear swirled within Wren's thoughts. She knew all too well the volatile nature of Klaus and the potential consequences of delivering such news to him. Besides, Elena just lost her aunt, Jenna's sacrifice has got to mean something, Wren mused, her eyes flickering with a mix of empathy and self-preservation. That's right, Elena deserves a chance to find her footing, to mourn her loss. Consider it my one act of charity, she continued, slurping her drink.  A sly smile played on her lips as she leaned back in her seat, a sense of cunning underlying her decision. All I know is, it’s not coming from me, she understood that keeping this information from Klaus wasn't solely an act of charity but also a way to protect herself from the unpredictable wrath of the Original vampire.

Wren stepped out of her booth and made her way to the neighbouring shop, determined to secure two packs of cigarettes for the road ahead. With the packs in hand, she headed back to the manor, a sense of anticipation mingling with her footsteps.

As she entered, her eyes met Nik's, who stood in the room with a glass of brandy in his hand, lazily swirling the amber liquid within. A mischievous smile played on his lips as he observed her arrival.

"Care for some?" he offered, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

Wren nodded, her own lips curling into a playful grin. "Always," she replied, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. She couldn't help but recall the first time he had offered her a drink, a moment that had caught her off guard. She had quickly realized that a thousand-year-old hybrid, with a trail of countless victims behind him, wouldn't concern himself with the legal drinking age.

Accepting the glass from him, she brought it to her lips, feeling the warmth of the brandy against her skin.

"You've been away for quite some time just to buy cigarettes," Nik's gaze homed in on her, meticulously analysing every flicker in her eyes.

Wren arched an eyebrow, a touch of indignation colouring her voice. "You were counting?" she inquired, a hint of disbelief in her tone.

Nik shrugged nonchalantly, a smug grin playing on his lips. "One can never be too cautious," he remarked, his words laden with a mix of wariness and curiosity.

“I almost disappointed, I half expected you to enlist a coven of witches or a battalion of vampires to keep tabs on me. Guess I overestimated my worth." She theatrically gasped, feigning surprise.   

After a few hours of preparation, the two of them were all set and had packed their belongings in the car's trunk. Stefan positioned himself in the front seat next to Klaus, who took the wheel, while Wren nonchalantly plopped herself in the backseat, ready for the journey ahead.

The car ride stretched on, engulfed in a thick veil of silence. Klaus, ever the instigator, attempted to provoke Stefan, but quickly grew bored when his attempts yielded no reaction. Wren observed this dynamic, sensing that despite his attempts to kill Stefan’s girlfriend, Klaus seemed to find some amusement in Stefan's presence. Eventually, the car came to a halt in a rural setting. Stefan stepped out of the car, prompting Klaus to bring it to a stop as well. 

Chapter Text

“Thought we got rid of your habit of feeding on Bambi,” Klaus queried, a sneer forming on his lips.

“Three days in the car and the only thing I can feed on,” Stefan replied, glancing at Wren who scowled and inched away, “is apparently not on the menu. So, I'm off for a little snack.” Stefan’s voice carried a hint of defiance, yet he didn't depart without a nod of approval from Klaus. With a single nod, Stefan vanished in a flash.

“Are you hungry as well?” Wren couldn't help but be reminded of the primal needs of the vampire seated in front of her. Her mind instinctively traced the scar from his initial bite on her neck and her palm. If he was going to feed on her, she'd rather he do it when he was in a state better able to control and restrain himself, to ensure he didn't drain her completely.

"An Original can withstand hunger far better than a normal vampire," Klaus explained, his voice steady as he focused on the road ahead. He didn't bother to look back, their gazes meeting only through the reflection in the car mirror.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Wren persisted, her eyes locked with his through the car mirror. “It doesn't seem smart to deny your thirst and then go rabid on me when you're beyond hunger.”

Klaus's lips curled into a smirk. "Suit yourself. I was merely trying to be charitable to your frail state."

Wren couldn't help but roll her eyes at his response. "Of course, my well-being is your utmost priority thus far," she retorted sarcastically.  ”Besides, I'd rather you not be weakened from hunger while there's a ripper in the car, at his top form."

"A mere 500-year-old vampire against me, laughable…" Klaus scoffed, his voice laced with arrogance. Without hesitation, he flashed to the back seat beside Wren, accepting the unspoken invitation. Her reflexive movement backward didn't escape his notice, and he raised an intrigued brow, as if gauging the shift in her demeanor, sensing a flicker of fear.

Wren, caught off guard by his sudden proximity, mustered her courage and met his gaze with a steely determination.

"I'd prefer you drink from the wrist," she offered, cautiously extending her wrist toward Niklaus. Memories of the pain from his fangs piercing her unbroken skin flashed through her mind. She calculated that if anything were to go array, she would have a better chance of defending herself if he drank from her wrist.

Niklaus, momentarily taken aback by her request, exhibited a faint hint of remorse before it was quickly overwhelmed by his primal nature. "So many demands," he muttered, his upper lip curling to reveal his formidable fangs. Casting one final glance at Wren, he nodded in acknowledgment of her consent. With calculated precision, he sank his fangs into her wrist, savouring the taste of her blood as he drank. Wren, though pale in complexion, bore the process with resilience.

After ensuring she wasn't left weakened from the blood exchange, Klaus retracted his fangs. A renewed vitality washed over Wren as she felt the pains of her body subside, the scar from his previous bite fading into nothingness. Her skin regained its pristine state, unmarred by the evidence of their connection. Sensing her newfound strength, he offered his own wrist to her, urging her to drink.  

Wren shrugged, digging into her pocket for a vial of his blood and tilting it playfully at Klaus. “I told you it would be useful,” she chuckled, and without hesitation, Wren pressed her lips to the vial, consuming his blood with a mix of gratitude and longing. She drank the vial empty, replenishing herself and feeling the puncture wounds close. As the last drop passed her lips, her gaze meeting his once again with a blend of appreciation and an unspoken understanding. 

"It's almost as good as a smoke," she replied, her voice light and airy, as Niklaus flashed back to his seat. The car fell into a silence, the anticipation of Stefan's return filling the air. Wren reached for her cigarettes, lighting one and exhaling a plume of smoke into the air.

"You mind?" she asked, extending the pack towards Niklaus.

"No," he responded curtly, his attention briefly shifting towards her.

As she continued to smoke, the physical pains that had plagued her began to fade away. The combined effect of the smoke and Klaus’ blood worked its magic, easing her troubled mind. Unbeknownst to her, Niklaus watched her intently through the rear-view mirror, observing the tranquillity that settled over her as she exhaled another cloud of smoke. 

As they waited in the car, a gentle breeze swept through the open windows, carrying with it the soothing scent of the nearby farm crops. Wren leaned back in her seat, closing her eyes momentarily, allowing the soft caress of the breeze to brush against her skin. The rhythmic rustling of the leaves and the distant sounds of nature created a peaceful ambiance that enveloped the car.

Klaus too, found solace in the simple serenity of the scene. With a faint smile, he leaned his head back against the seat, his gaze fixed on the expansive sky above.

For a brief moment, the weight of their turbulent world seemed to dissipate, replaced by a temporary respite in the embrace of nature's symphony. No words were needed as they shared this quiet moment together, finding solace in the gentle breeze and the comforting scent that enveloped them. In the midst of chaos, they found a fleeting sense of calm, a brief interlude of peace amidst the storm.

“I intend to create a hybrid family,” Klaus confessed, his gaze fixed on the reflection of Wren in the car mirror. There was a hint of vulnerability in his voice, a rare glimpse into his desires and aspirations. Wren listened attentively, her eyes meeting his but offering no immediate response, as she took another puff of her cigarette. 

"An unstoppable army of loyal followers, all subject to my rule," Klaus continued, his voice laced with a mix of determination and longing. It was as if he could see a vision unfolding before him, a future where he would finally find the family he had always yearned for. His eyes seemed distant, lost in contemplation, as though he were envisioning a reality beyond the confines of the car.

Wren watched on with a smirk, contemplating Klaus's words. She understood the depth of his desire, even if she didn't fully agree with his methods. "That doesn’t sound like a family to me," Wren replied, her tone laced with a hint of amusement. "Are you not simply seeking an army of soldiers at your disposal?" Her words carried a touch of playful scepticism, challenging Klaus to delve deeper into his motivations.

Klaus glared at her, his gaze filled with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. He had hoped for understanding, perhaps even support, but Wren's reaction only served to remind him of the perceived darkness within him.

With a nonchalant shrug, Wren conceded, recognizing the futility of challenging the original vampire's twisted and warped idea of family. "You claw and fight for the very thing I escaped and abandoned," the words slipped out of her mouth, laced with a mixture of cynicism and wonder. She couldn't help but doubt if it was the effect of his blood, or perhaps his unexpected revelation, that caused her typically reserved nature to falter.

Klaus raised a skeptical brow. "Escape? I thought you were an orphan," Niklaus asked, his tone laced with curiosity and a hint of disbelief.

"That's... not entirely untrue. I may have conveniently forgotten to mention that I became an orphan by choice," she replied, a mischievous smile playing on her lips as if she had just been caught red-handed by a parent. "Maybe that's why I find myself slightly intrigued by you," Wren replied, her voice tinged with admiration. "Despite all the curses and chaos that surround you, you managed to escape with and safeguard the remainder of your family, in whatever form that may be." Her mind wandered to the memories of Klaus daggering his siblings and hiding them away like precious hidden treasures.

"But that leaves abandonment? Who did you abandon?" Klaus asked, his voice devoid of judgment. Stefan's return from the distance snapped Wren back to reality, and her momentary vulnerability was swiftly concealed behind her cold and guarded gaze, She spoke with a strained determination, her voice betraying a hint of inner turmoil, "No one…I don’t regret abandoning." 

Klaus observed her for a moment, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes, before he turned his attention back to the road ahead. He knew better than to push for answers she was not ready to share.

The trio continued the ride in silence. The next few days passed with Klaus and Stefan indulging in their bloodlust, claiming the lives of a few unfortunate victims. Wren, on the other hand, chose to stay outside in the car, unwilling to witness any more bloodshed in the aftermath of their actions. As she waited outside, she lit a cigarette, letting the smoke swirl around her as she watched for Klaus and Stefan's return.

She peered into her pocket, only to realize that her packet of cigarettes was nearly empty. The stress and uncertainty of their journey had led her to smoke more frequently than before. She sighed, realizing that she would need to find a way to restock soon, as the comforting puffs of smoke had become a familiar companion during their tumultuous travels.

Klaus returned to the car, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "Stefan's going on a little trip to teach his brother a lesson, Wren. You remember Damon, don't you? We met briefly when I broke the curse," Klaus reminded her, watching as Wren struggled to recall the face. She nodded, although the memory of Damon's face remained elusive. "Sure," she replied, her thoughts wandering to whether Elena and Damon were searching for Stefan. Klaus gave a nod, permitting Stefan to flash off, the remnants of fresh blood stark against his blue shirt.

"You're letting him go just like that?" Wren asked curiously, her eyes fixed on Stefan's retreating figure.

"Not letting him go... just a temporary goodbye. Stefan's smart enough to know when to return," Klaus mocked, a hint of threat in his tone. As they continued walking, Wren's exhaustion became evident. She questioned their destination, her voice weary.

"We're on our way to find a certain werewolf by the of Ray, my dear little thief," Klaus replied, his pace unwavering, showing no intention of slowing down to accommodate her tiredness.

Wren tilted her head, sighing, "I meant, do we have a clear location for this Ray? or are we embarking on a grand pub-crawl across America?

"Shh," Klaus hushed her, pointing towards a nearby playground. Wren followed his gaze, focusing on a mother and daughter. The woman sat on a bench, keeping a watchful eye on her child playing in the playground.

"The werewolf has a family," Klaus explained, his voice tinged with a hint of anticipation. "They will kindly lead us to his whereabouts."

Okay, yeah. Let's just snatch the mother and child in broad daylight and expect everything to go smoothly, Wren mused.  

She looked at him with an expectant gaze. "Compulsion?" Klaus nodded, his arrogance on full display.

"But, considering you're their mortal enemy, what if she's wearing vervain?" Wren questioned, a smile forming on her face as she realized Klaus hadn't considered that possibility.

“I may be convinced to help considering your helplessness,” Wren smirked, mirroring his arrogance. She had her own motives for getting involved, fully aware that offering Klaus an alternative would deter him from resorting to violence to capture the mother and child. However, it was also true that she saw an opportunity to exploit the situation and gain something in return. So, she played along, subtly implying that her assistance was primarily for his benefit. However, it was also true that she saw an opportunity to exploit the situation and gain something in return.  

Klaus rolled his eyes, growing impatient. "What is it you want?" he asked, tapping his feet with annoyance. Wren smirked, refusing to give in easily. "I'm not an idiot," she replied confidently. "I won't be using my one wish from Klaus Mikaelson recklessly. I'll save it for a more opportune moment," she added, a playful smile on her lips.

“Fine, upon my word,” he smiled, resignedly.

Wren couldn't help but recall his past actions and his broken promises. "I recall you saying that to Elijah right before you daggered him," she remarked with a hint of scepticism. "But, since I have no other choice but to rely on your word, I'll hold you to it... albeit hesitantly," Wren said, a cautious smile on her face. With that, she made her way closer to the woman sitting on the bench.

Klaus watched intently as Wren approached the older woman on the bench, her smile genuine and inviting. The noise of children playing around them provided a cover, making it difficult for Klaus to catch their conversation. Instead, he smirked as she approached the older woman on the bench with a warm smile, radiating an air of friendliness and trustworthiness. After a while, the mother got up and headed towards the nearby store, as Wren smoothly made her way to the child, her demeanour friendly and reassuring. With a quick exchange of words and a warm interaction, Wren walked towards him with the child in tow. 

"Lizzie, this is my friend, Mr. Klaus," Wren smiled warmly down at the child, her voice gentle and reassuring. "He may seem a little grumpy sometimes," she chuckled, earning a playful giggle from the young girl. As Wren spoke, Lizzie gradually released her grip on Wren's leg, feeling at ease in the presence of this newfound friend. “Lets find you some candy!!” Wren guided Lizzie across the road, the three continued walking off.

"Great, you've brought me the blubbering child instead of the mother who holds the key to the location," Klaus sighed, his frustration evident in his voice. He glanced at Lizzie, who was still blissfully unaware of the underlying motives behind their encounter.

Wren raised an eyebrow, undeterred by Klaus' irritation. "You’re mom’s a tough nut to crack, isn't she? She would’ve have told us where the secret location is,” she remarked, shifting her attention to Lizzie, offering a reassuring smile before turning back to Klaus. Lizzie nodded eagerly, attesting to her mother’s strength. "But worry not, Mr. Klaus," Wren continued, her voice tinged with playful confidence. "You're lucky to have a smart friend like me. I know exactly how much Lizzie's mom adores her precious little girl, even more than her own husband." Wren's smile widened as she playfully interacted with Lizzie.

“Let’s make a phone call to your mom, shall we?” Klaus smiled, bending down to the girl’s height.

The three continued driving, Lizzie peacefully asleep in the backseat with traces of chocolate smeared around her mouth. Wren gently brushed circles on the child's temple, providing a soothing presence.

"I must admit, I didn't expect that kind of resourcefulness from you," Klaus remarked, his amusement evident in his voice.

Wren glanced at Klaus, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Well, my way not only ensured their safety but also spared them the hefty costs of therapy," she quipped, a hint of satisfaction in her tone.

Klaus glared at Wren; his gaze filled with accusation. "By threatening and blackmailing?" he challenged, his voice laced with playful skepticism.

Wren met his gaze with a steely determination. "Yes, by saving them from the pain that you no doubt would've inflicted to extract the location from the werewolf," she replied firmly.

“How did you manage to get her to leave her daughter unattended?” Klaus asked curious.

"She wasn't unattended, I was looking after her while she went into the store to buy me this," Wren stated, throwing a packet of sandwiches and other assortment of cheap convenience store snacks at Klaus.

Klaus caught the bag effortlessly, his expression momentarily caught off guard. He examined the item in his hand, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Ah, the starving pitiful runaway orphan act,” he chuckled.

“Always works,” she grinned playfully. Lizzie stirred in Wren's arms, slowly awakening from her slumber as Klaus kept driving towards their destination. They had successfully obtained the information they needed regarding the Ray’s whereabouts. As they arrived at a café, Wren entered with Lizzie in tow. She purchased a large, indulgent ice cream sundae and placed it in front of Lizzie, instructing her to stay in the booth until her mother arrived to pick her up. Wanting to ensure Lizzie's safety, Wren approached one of the wait staff and kindly asked them to keep an eye on Lizzie and her younger siblings while she made a quick visit to the nearby salon.

Chapter Text

Klaus had already sent the address to Stefan through a text message, and they continued their journey until they arrived at the pub. He gestured for Wren to join him as they entered, with a sense of urgency in his stride. Wren followed him inside, her hesitation evident as her gaze fell upon a man bound to a table, visibly struggling, and gasping for breath. She clenched her fists tightly, determined to maintain her composure despite the distressing scene before her.

“I’ve told you where the pack is, let me go,” Ray pleaded, his voice strained with pain and desperation, his coughs interrupting his words. Klaus, unfazed by his pleas, continued to inflict torment upon him, relishing in his suffering. Wren stood there, unable to ignore the man's agonized cries, his desperate goodbyes to loved ones she would never know nor desire to meet. As the hours passed, Wren unknowingly found herself gradually relaxing into her seat, her initial fear giving way to a chilling acceptance of the man's screams.

"Have you not been paying attention to a single word I've said, Ray?" Klaus's voice dripped with both authority and a touch of impatience. "I have grand plans for you, and for all of you. Now, this is a three-step process. Step 1, you drink from my wrist”, Klaus cut into his wrist with a dagger and forced his wrist against Ray’s mouth. Wren looked at him in confusion, “he’ll thank me for it later,” Klaus smiled Wren’s confusion.

Finally, Klaus released his grip on Ray, his intense gaze fixated on Stefan, who had just returned. Without missing a beat, Klaus proceeded to step two of his plan. “Step 2” and in a swift and decisive motion, he snapped Ray's neck, the sound echoing in the room.

"You're back," Klaus smiled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

"You doubted me?" Stefan questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Never. I had faith that you would pass the test," Klaus responded, his tone laced with a mixture of admiration and calculation. "You still hold some attachment to your brother, to your old life, enough to prevent you from provoking my anger."

"No, I don't care about anything anymore," Stefan declared, his words casting a shadow of doubt over Klaus and Wren. They both watched intently, their eyes filled with uncertainty, while Wren sat perched on the pool table, a silent observer. The patrons in the bar had been compelled to disregard the unfolding scene, oblivious to the extraordinary events occurring right in front of them.

"You put on a good show, Stefan. I almost believed you... Let's hope for your brother's sake, he's foolish enough to do the same," Klaus remarked, pouring drinks for himself, Stefan, and Wren. He observed Stefan closely, understanding the complexities of family bonds. "You never stop caring about family, do you? But with every drop of blood you consume, it becomes easier to let go," he whispered into Stefan's ear. Klaus then turned his attention to Wren, passing her a drink as well.

Stefan, needing some fresh air to clear his mind, stepped outside, while Wren swiftly downed her drink in response to Klaus' gesture. Feeling the need for some respite from the bleeding ray, Wren joined Stefan outside. She watched as Stefan desperately attempted to make a phone call, his voice filled with pleading, "Come on, Elena..."

Wren's attempt to slip back inside unnoticed was abruptly interrupted when she accidentally knocked her foot against the door, causing her to let out an involuntary yelp of pain. "Mother fu-" she started, but caught herself mid-sentence, realizing that Stefan had heard her. She blamed the alcohol for her less-than-subtle attempt to escape.  

As she turned around, she could sense Stefan’s cautious and panicked gaze fixed upon her, hidden behind his piercing blue eyes. Taking measured steps, Wren approached Stefan with a delicate care, understanding his shock and fear that she might have overheard him calling out Elena. She wore a calm yet concerned expression on her face, seeking to reassure him. 

"Hey, are you alright?" Wren cautiously approached Stefan, mindful of his unease. She maintained a respectful distance, understanding the weight of his emotions and not wanting to intrude further. "Don't worry, Klaus has his hands full with Ray. I highly doubt he can hear anything over the sound of Ray’s screams," Wren remarked, settling herself on the porch of the pub, easing the pressure off her foot. She held a drink in her hand as Stefan approached, his demeanour growing more intense and dangerous. 

"Ah-ah, slow your roll. I'd suggest proceeding with caution, Klaus has taken a peculiar shine to me," she quipped, keeping a close eye on Stefan as she casually sipped her drink. 

“Klaus doesn’t care about anyone other than himself, you’re deluding yourself if you think otherwise,” Stefan retorted, noticing the girls cautious retreat. It was only then that he realized the severity of his words, realizing he had threatened the life of an innocent child. “I don't want it to come to this, but I won't allow you to jeopardize Elena's safety,” Stefan glared, his determination solidifying in his mind.

“I never claimed that he cared about me, so be careful not to let him overhear you say that. Accusing Klaus of such sentiment wouldn't sit well with him," Wren defended with a smirk. "However, I did mention that he's intrigued by me, and in his twisted mind, that might be enough reason to keep me alive. But I suppose, if you did kill me, he wouldn't necessarily kill you," Wren replied, her voice filled with a mix of confidence and mischief.

She locked eyes with Stefan, her gaze unwavering. "But what's to say he won't find another way to punish you? Not for killing me? But for disobeying him? Perhaps he'll target someone you care about, like Bonnie or Jeremy? Would you make that bargain? Paranoid and vindictive Klaus?” she pointed inside the bar, “to pardon you? without any suspicion that you, a sympathiser to human lives, would just up and kill me?” Wren eyed Stefan cautiously, her expression guarded.

Stefan appeared perplexed by her logic; his movements frozen as he refrained from approaching her any further. "What do you want? Why are you even following Klaus?" he questioned, both knowing that Wren was not under any compulsion, as he had initially assumed.

“I... I’m not sure. He kidnapped me from... well, from nothing really. I wasn’t doing much else before him" she confessed, taking a sip of brandy and wincing at its fiery touch. Stefan's gaze softened as he observed her, his earlier threat to kill her now replaced with empathy for a young woman caught in the clutches of a dangerous man.

Wren let out a weary sigh, recognising his pitying expression. “Look, I’m not going to tell him what I heard…If there is such a thing, I’m not exactly on his side” she whispered, setting her glass aside. Stefan’s anxiety seemed to ease, almost hopeful.   

“Does that mean, you’re on our side?”  he irked a brow.

“Hold your horses, that simply means, I’m not on his side. "Let's just say I have my own side," Wren replied with a sly smile, raising an eyebrow. “And at the moment, my interests happen to align with Klaus’.”

“And, what interests you do have with werewolves?” Stefan asked sceptically.

"Hmm... I got nothing?" Wren slurred, trying to push past the haze of alcohol-induced daze. She clumsily rose from her seat, stumbling slightly as the effects of the drink took hold.

"Whoa," Stefan flashed to her side, steadying her and offering support. Klaus swiftly materialized beside them, forcefully pulling her away from Stefan. "I'll handle her," he stated firmly, his grip on her disorientated frame fixed. "You should return inside, Ripper. There's unfinished business awaiting your homicidal talents." Stefan cast a concerned glance at the girl in Klaus' arms before reluctantly nodding and making his way back inside.

"Ngg-no... I'm fine," Wren protested, attempting to walk away, her hands pushing against Klaus' chest. But he gently hushed her, his strength overpowering her feeble resistance.

"It's well past your bedtime, little one. Children should be fast asleep by now." He carefully settled her in the car, placing his jacket over her to ward off the cold wind. There was a moment of silence as he observed her snuggling up against his jacket, seeking comfort.  

“I don’t want to die,” she mumbled, her vulnerable words piercing through Klaus' defences, stirring a twinge of guilt within the hybrid. Stefan emerged from the pub, carrying the unconscious Ray. "We're leaving now," Niklaus announced, prompting Stefan to place Ray in the backseat beside Wren, who shifted uncomfortably. "No, put him in the trunk. I don't fancy his putrid odour sullying my precious car," Klaus remarked with a touch of sarcasm. Stefan rolled his eyes in response. "Just admit it, you don't want him to wake up and go all wolf on her," he grumbled as he heaved Ray into the trunk. Klaus dismissed his words and continued driving.

“She seems attached to you,” Stefan remarked, glancing back at the slumbering figure who clung onto Klaus’ jacket.

“That is because she is smart, now if only you could follow in her footsteps,” Klaus nodded.  

"Klaus... she's just a child compared to us," Stefan sighed, his voice filled with concern. "I know we've done enough wrong to paint the town red, but she doesn't belong in our world."

"Stefan, you underestimate the resilience and strength within her," Klaus retorted playfully, a hint of admiration in his voice. "She's not some helpless invalid. She has a mind of her own," Klaus defended, ignoring the tiny speck inside him that agreed with Stefan.  "Enough talk, Stefan," Klaus interrupted, his voice commanding and filled with purpose. "Save your energy. We have much to accomplish, and time is not on our side."

After a while, Wren woke up, her gaze shifting between Klaus and Stefan. "Where are we going next?" she asked, her voice still groggy from her sleep.

"Just into the woods," Klaus replied with a mischievous smile. "Ray kindly directed us to the rest of his pack."

Wren's eyes widened slightly. "Right... do you need me for that?" she mumbled, unsure of her role in the upcoming encounter especially as memories of her previous outing with Klaus in the forest surfaced. 

Klaus shrugged chuckling, with his unwavering confidence. "Indeed, While there may be some defiance from the pack, I assure you it's nothing that the 'ripper' here and I cannot handle." His tone carried a hint of pride in their abilities. 

As Wren grinned playfully, she added, "I have full faith in your capabilities. However, I'll hold onto the car keys, just in case." Her smile turned cheeky as she contemplated her escape plan, ready to act swiftly if the situation demanded it.

Stefan's smile was gentle, his eyes filled with a mixture of fondness and scepticism. "Do you even know how to drive?”

"I'll take my chances with driving rather than facing crazed werewolves any day," she retorted with a hint of sass, stifling a yawn. Wren settled into her seat, feeling the rhythmic vibrations of the car and the gentle caress of the wind against her face as they sped along. Gradually, her eyelids grew heavy, and she allowed herself to drift into a state of semi-consciousness, still aware of her surroundings.

The car eventually came to a halt, accompanied by the familiar sound of the trunk opening and closing. Though her eyes remained closed, Wren waved off the departing figures of Klaus and Stefan dismissively and moved to the front seats with the keys clutched in her hands. As the minutes passed, distant screams reached her ears, but she stayed firmly in her seat, undeterred. "Only a few minutes in, and heads are likely rolling already," she mused to herself, a mixture of amusement and detachment colouring her thoughts. 

"We're getting out of here before the full moon," a familiar voice reached her ears as Wren heard someone approaching the car. Her eyes fluttered open, sensing the urgency in the air.  With a mix of caution and determination, she moved to close the car, fully aware that it would offer little resistance against any incoming supernatural threats.

The jingle of car keys reverberated in her ears, amplified by the silence that enveloped her surroundings. Wren's heart raced as she carefully inserted the keys into the ignition, her movements slow and deliberate, hoping to minimize any noise that could betray her presence. Every clink and rattle seemed magnified, as if the very sound could alert the forces lurking in the darkness.

Out of nowhere, a hand materialized, shattering the car window and forcefully pushing her back into the seat. The shards of glass scattered around her, Wren's instinctive resistance was abruptly halted as she locked eyes with Damon, his trademark smirk etched upon his face.

Frozen in place, her heart pounded in her chest, the rush of adrenaline surging through her veins. She could feel the sting of fear intertwining with a spark of defiance deep within her. Gathering her wits, she mustered the strength to speak, her voice laced with a mix of apprehension and determination.

"Hello there, aren’t you a familiar face? Didn't expect to find you here..." Damon's lips curled into a mischievous grin as his eyes filled with a cold intensity glared into Wrens frightened ones. They momentarily softened as Elena stepped into view, accompanied by an older man clutching a crossbow. 

"Well, wasn't planning on being found," Wren replied, her smile strained but determined. She could sense the tension in the air, knowing that her presence had stirred up a complicated situation. 

"Damon, leave her alone. She's not part of this," Elena pleaded, her voice a mixture of weariness and concern. She mustered a reassuring smile towards Wren, silently urging her to stay strong amidst the impending storm.

Damon's gaze flickered between Elena and Wren, a playfully wicked glint in his eyes. He took a step closer, his voice dripping with sardonic charm. "Oh, Elena, you know me. I can't resist a little excitement, especially when it involves someone new." Elena reasoned again for Wren’s safety.

"Well, Elena, if you're truly desperate to find Stefan, then we might just need this little lost puppy here. She probably knows where we can find Stefan" Damon remarked with a smug grin, his fangs glinting in the dim light. He turned towards Elena, challenging her with his words. However, his attention quickly shifted back to Wren, his eyes narrowing as he approached her.

Elena hesitated, caught between her desire to find Stefan and her concern for Wren's well-being. Before Damon could make another move, a commanding voice interrupted the tense atmosphere. The older man, with a sense of authority, pushed past Elena and Damon, positioning himself protectively between them and Wren. 

"Damon, leave her alone," he spoke firmly, his gaze unwavering. It was clear he had no intention of allowing any harm to befall Wren under his watch.

Elena breathed a sigh of relief at the intervention, grateful for the support of the older man. "Come on, Alaric, don't tell me you're going soft too. It's hard to take you seriously with all that artillery," Damon grumbled in frustration. Alaric sighed and reluctantly set his weapon down, taking a step towards Wren. "Hey kid, what's your name?" Alaric asked gently, crouching down to her level. His eyes held a warmth and kindness that was reassuring.  

“Wren,” she responded meekly, relying on the man named Alaric to save her from Damon and Elena. 

"Hi Wren, I'm Alaric," he greeted with a friendly smile, acknowledging both Wren and the others. "You've already met Damon and Elena. We're looking for our friend Stefan. Any idea where he might be?" Damon rolled his eyes impatiently.

Wren paused for a moment, considering her response. Her words elicited anger from Damon and frustration from Elena. "You're wasting your effort," she continued, her tone firm. "Klaus won't allow it. He's determined to keep Stefan by his side. If you leave now, he doesn't need to know that you followed us here..."

Damon scoffed dismissively, his frustration evident in his voice. "Of course, Alaric, because expecting Klaus' little pet to help us is such a brilliant idea. We're wasting our time here. Let's just compel her, end her life, and be done with it. We don't have much time before we become werewolf snacks," he remarked sarcastically, taking a step closer to the girl. She instinctively inched backwards, her expression tense as she glanced at Alaric for support.

Alaric quickly intervened, stepping forward and firmly gripping Damon's arm. "Damon," he said, his voice commanding. "Back off." Damon raised his hands in mock surrender before retreating to his previous spot. "Seems like I'm the only one who actually wants to find Stefan," he grumbled.

Alaric turned his attention back to Wren, offering her an apologetic smile. "Sorry about him," he said, his tone sincere. "I appreciate your concern, Wren, but Stefan is a dear friend and brother. We have to save him from Klaus," Alaric explained, his voice gentle and reassuring.

Wren fell silent, searching in her pocket before her gaze fixed on the ring she held in her hand. It was a small memento she had picked up at Stevens Quarry, a ring that had fallen off Jenna's body during the chaotic events of that fateful night. Somehow, amidst the turmoil, she had managed to retrieve it.

"Jenna..." Wren's voice trailed off, her words barely audible. "She called out your name before she passed. She would want you to live, so don't go. If you return now, you'll make it," she muttered, her voice filled with a mixture of sadness and determination. With a steady hand, she extended the ring to Alaric, causing him to flinch back momentarily in grief. However, he quickly composed himself and offered a heartfelt smile in return, touched by the gesture.

"Thank you, Wren," Alaric expressed his gratitude, holding the necklace tightly in his hand. "But Jenna would not agree with abandoning friends... Come on, Damon, let's go," he turned back, giving a final smile to Wren. His words left her silent, a sense of frustration welling up within her. She couldn't understand why he would embark on such a futile mission, risking his life for a friend who wasn't even family.

"What do you mean go? Are we just going to let go of the only person who knows where Stefan is?!" Damon exclaimed in disbelief, before pointing at Wren as realisation dawned upon him. "We can't just leave her. She knows Elena's alive, and she'll report it back to the big boss."

Alaric's eyes widened, and Elena's panic was evident as well. "Ric... if Klaus finds out, he'll kill me, and everyone else," Elena's voice trembled with fear.

Alaric locked eyes with Wren, noticing the fear in her expression as she sensed the sudden shift in their demeanour. All three of them regarded her with a certain determination, a hint of certainty in their eyes.

Alaric paused, clutching the jewelry tightly in his hand as he closed his eyes, deep in thought. After a moment of reflection, he opened his eyes and looked at Wren with a reassuring smile. "No, she won't tell Klaus... I have faith in her," he said confidently. "We'll find another way to locate Stefan."

Ignoring Damon's protests and incredulous expression, Alaric bid her farewell and led the group in the opposite direction. Wren watched them walk for a moment before letting out a sigh. "Colder," she whispered, catching Alaric's attention. The three of them paused, trying to comprehend her words. They walked back towards her, leaning in closer to hear her better. Wren repeated, "Colder."

A smile of realization spread across Alaric's face as he began turning in different directions, searching for the right path. Wren's guidance became clearer when she uttered, "Warmer." Content with the direction, Wren returned to her seat in the car, closing her eyes with a faint smile. Alaric expressed his gratitude to her as they embarked on their new path.

"What if she's leading us astray for Klaus? We can't trust her," Wren overheard Elena's voice in the distance as they continued their journey, gradually fading from her sight. "It's not difficult to be loyal when you're on the winning team," Wren scoffed to herself. Her hand instinctively reached into her pocket, but she felt a pang of emptiness realizing the jewellery was no longer there. "Ah, that's right," she reminded herself, finding solace in the fact that she had returned it to its rightful owner.

Remaining inside the car, she anxiously awaited Klaus's arrival, passing the time by playing games on her phone. Suddenly, she heard rustling sounds emanating from the surrounding trees. Her guard went up, and she peered into the shadows, her eyes searching for any signs of danger.

Before she could fully comprehend the situation, the car door was violently ripped open, revealing a girl standing before her. Blood streamed down both of her eyes, and Wren recognized her as a hybrid. The girl's eyes transformed into a menacing shade of yellow, and her fangs ominously emerged. "Human," she hissed, her gaze fixating on Wren's vulnerable neck.

Wren's heart pounded in her chest as she called out for Klaus in panic, desperately trying to escape the clutches of the young hybrid. She could feel the creature's strength overpowering her, dragging her closer with each agonizing second. Panic consumed her as she scanned the car, searching for any means of defence. Her eyes landed on the car keys, glimmering just out of reach.

Summoning all her remaining strength, Wren unleashed a final burst of energy, kicking with all her might to break free from the hybrid's grip. Her leg swung forcefully, forcing the creature to release its hold on her. Seizing the opportunity, Wren swiftly crawled toward the keys, her hands stretching out desperately to grasp them.

As her fingers closed around the keys, Wren felt a glimmer of hope. But her triumph was short-lived. The hybrid, fuelled by fury, lunged at her once again, lifting her off the ground by her shirt. Wren remained resolute, her eyes locked on the hybrid's face, waiting for the perfect moment.

With a surge of determination, Wren thrust the car keys toward the hybrid's eyes. The metallic edge of the keys pierced through the creature's flesh, eliciting a guttural cry of pain. Yet, to her horror, the hybrid refused to release her. In a swift, brutal motion, the hybrid sank its fangs into Wren's vulnerable neck. Agony consumed her as the searing pain coursed through her body. Her cries echoed into the night as tears streamed down her face, mingling with the blood that stained her skin. 

Despite the excruciating torment, Wren refused to succumb to despair. A flicker of defiance ignited within her, fuelling her determination to survive. She fought against the overwhelming darkness, clinging to a glimmer of hope as the hybrid continued to drain her life force.

Klaus Mikaelson swiftly intervened, his presence commanding the attention of the newly turned hybrid. Instead, the woman disregarded Klaus's warning and lunged directly at Wren, crazed for Wren’s blood, her feral instincts overriding any semblance of reason. With a swift pounce, she landed on top of Wren, the force of the impact causing Wren to cry out in pain as her bones felt the crushing weight of the wolf. Klaus, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected turn of events, quickly regained his composure. He moved with lightning speed, appearing beside the struggling pair in an instant. With a powerful motion, he forcefully threw the wolf aside, sending her crashing to the ground. 

Wren, though battered and in agony, summoned her remaining strength to crawl away from the wounded wolf, distancing herself from the immediate danger. She winced, feeling the pain coursing through her body, but determination pushed her to keep moving.

As the woman transformed into a ferocious wolf, a growl escaping her throat, Klaus's irritation flickered across his face. He stared at her with a mixture of annoyance and authority, asserting his dominance. He bared his teeth, and in an instant, Klaus sidestepped the charging wolf, effortlessly evading her attack. He seized the opportunity, his hand gripping the wolf's neck with an iron grip. With a show of strength, he forced her to the ground, exerting his dominance over the rebellious creature before ending her. 

"It seems your blood holds more power than mere fledgling hybrids and vampires can handle," Klaus remarked, a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction evident in his voice. 

Wren's body throbbed with excruciating pain, her breaths ragged and uneven. Klaus swiftly rushed to her side, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. "It seems my carefully laid plans have faltered... they turned rabid," Klaus muttered, his voice laced with disappointment. He extended his wrist to her, offering his blood in a desperate attempt to heal her wounds. Wren barely registered his words, her focus consumed by the searing agony coursing through her.

Gradually, she felt the restorative power of Klaus' blood take effect, her broken bones slowly knitting back together. As the pain subsided, Klaus moved away from her, his attention shifting to the pale and weary Stefan, who held Ray's heart in his trembling hand.

In an outburst of anger and frustration, Klaus unleashed his fury upon the surrounding environment, hurling objects in his path and striking a nearby tree with a powerful punch. "I did everything I was instructed to do... I broke the curse, I slaughtered a werewolf, a vampire, and a doppelganger," he growled, his voice filled with simmering frustration and a hint of regret.  

Wren remained silent, enduring the discomfort of her mending bones, cautious not to attract the wrath of the volatile Hybrid. Stefan, sensing the need to break the tension, spoke up softly, "I had no choice but to kill him..." He held out a heart in his hand, a grim reminder of the difficult choices he had made.

Klaus stayed silent for a moment, his gaze distant, before abruptly biting his own arm, allowing the crimson liquid to flow into a bottle. "Bottoms up... that wolf bite looks nasty," he remarked, offering the concoction to Stefan. Without hesitation, Stefan discarded the heart and eagerly accepted the bottle, his gratitude evident.

"A failed experiment that consumed precious time and effort," Klaus lamented, his voice filled with a mix of frustration and resentment. "It seems my abhorrent mother still persists in tormenting me from her coffin with the curse she bestowed upon us."

He let out a weary sigh, his eyes glinting with a steely determination. "But this is not the end, never the end. Fortunately, there are still countless wolves out there. I will not cease until I have created a true force, one powerful enough to quell any thoughts of rebellion or dissent."

Wren gritted her teeth as her body continued to heal, inwardly groaning at the discomfort. She mustered a feeble attempt to lift herself off the ground, determined to regain her composure. Stefan, ever the caring soul, rushed to her side, and she gratefully took his aid. 

Klaus continued to unleash his anger on the surroundings, his fury evident in every aggressive kick and the unhinged door of the car. Wren felt her legs give way as she relived the excruciating pain inflicted by the werewolf bite. The memory of the sheer force that could have torn her head from her torso sent shivers down her spine. Not wanting to collapse entirely, she slowly lowered herself, finding solace in leaning against a sturdy tree branch.

"Stefan, go find another car. We have plans to attend to," Klaus commanded, his tone laced with authority. Stefan glanced at Wren, concern etched across his face, hesitant to leave her alone with Klaus in his current state of anger. Wren offered him a reassuring nod, silently conveying her belief that Klaus wouldn't harm her. With a lingering gaze, Stefan reluctantly complied and set off to search for a replacement vehicle.

Wren waited patiently, allowing Klaus a moment to settle and regain his composure. She knew firsthand the importance of allowing him to calm himself before engaging in further conversation or making any requests. Only then would she address their plans and navigate the tumultuous situation they found themselves in.

"Thanks for saving me," she murmured gratefully, her voice laced with relief. She had faced countless moments of fear in the past, but this particular encounter with the rabid werewolf had shaken her to the core.

"I protect my investments," Klaus responded, his tone filled with a mixture of reassurance and care. He moved closer to her, a subtle display of concern, ensuring she was truly okay. Despite his often-ruthless nature, there was a part of Klaus that couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility and attachment towards those he considered his own.

"Good, then I won't feel bad for bleeding all over your car," she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. 

Klaus's smirk widened, acknowledging the situation with a certain level of amusement. But deep within his mind, his thoughts continued to dwell on the failures of his hybrid creations. As he reached for a vial of blood from the lifeless hybrid creature, the squelching sounds disturbed Wren, causing her to avert her gaze in disgust.  

Klaus observed Wren's discomfort at the mention of blood and couldn't help but comment on the irony. "I don't understand you. You despise the sight of blood and gore, and yet, you've chosen to stand by my side - a being that likely invented the definition of blood and gore," he remarked, his voice laced with amusement.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but you have this uncanny ability to doubt yourself and others whenever things don't go according to plan," Wren remarked wittily. "Then again, so does everyone. The only difference is, I suppose you've had a thousand years to perfect it," she conceded.

Klaus couldn't help but chuckle, retorting with "And you evade as naturally as you breathe."

“I have no idea what you-I suppose we all have our flaws then,” Wren agreed, joining his laughter.

"But I must say, the others really overestimate you... Then again, it seems like you quite enjoy it, or at the very least, you gain some sort of advantage from it," Wren judged, a mischievous glint in her eye. Klaus responded with an intrigued expression, indicating his desire to hear her explanation.

"Even at 1000 years old, you were once human, just like the rest of us. You're not as incomprehensible or enigmatic as others make you out to be... In fact, I believe it's a sense of desperation that pushes you. It's the kind of desperation that eliminates the possibility of empathy... the kind that makes you unkind and desensitized, causing you to harm your own kind and inflict pain on others," Wren continued, her tone laced with a hint of fascination and sadness. "I haven't quite reached that stage yet, but I expect I will, given enough time. Let’s say 1000 years."

Klaus' eyes widened, briefly caught off guard. "I'm not quite certain whether you just insulted me or not," he remarked, his tone tinged with curiosity.

Wren's smile widened in response. "If you're unsure, then chances are I didn't insult you," she quipped, her playful banter evident.

Shortly thereafter, Stefan returned, pulling up in a car. "Great. Where are we headed next? Wherever it may be, I hope it includes a comfortable bed and actual food... Not all of us are content with the metallic and bitter taste of blood," Wren stated, brushing the dirt off her clothes as she got to her feet and approached Klaus.

Chapter Text

Guided by Klaus's vague response that the answers to his hybrid plight lay in Chicago, the trio embarked on a road trip to the Windy City. As they hit the highway, Wren closed her eyes but kept her ears wide open, as Klaus took Stefan on a nostalgic journey down memory lane, recounting events that had unfolded decades before her time. She couldn't help but be captivated by their conversation, particularly as they unravelled the story of how Klaus had compelled Stefan to forget their shared time in New Orleans many years ago.

During a pit stop along their journey, Stefan ventured off to grab a drink, leaving Wren trapped in the car with a brooding Klaus. The atmosphere grew tense as Klaus's mood darkened, his frustration resurfacing as he dwelled on the memories of his failed experiments. Wren found herself caught in the uncomfortable situation, unable to find an excuse to escape the company of an increasingly irritable Klaus.

Wren let out a weary sigh, her patience wearing thin. "Alright, spill the beans," she resignedly urged, her gaze fixed on Klaus's perplexed expression. "You see, in the short time I've had the pleasure of knowing you, I've come to realize that a silent Klaus is never good news. So?" She gestured with a hint of urgency, eager to uncover whatever Klaus was keeping under wraps.

Klaus sighed; his frustration evident, "I must admit it’s quite disheartening. To pour so much effort and hope into creating a powerful army, only to see it crumble before my eyes. It's a reminder of my own limitations."

“That sucks, but maybe…just maybe, that’s a sign from you know,” Wren pointed to the sky.

Klaus raised an eyebrow at Wren's nervous interjection, contemplating her words for a moment. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he responded, "Ah, so you think it's a sign, do you? That I should simply abandon my grand ambitions and settle for mediocrity?"

Wren's nerves grew as she realized the weight of her suggestion. "Well, not necessarily abandon, but perhaps reassess your approach," she suggested cautiously. "Sometimes, every setback is a clue.”  

Klaus chuckled, a mix of amusement and genuine contemplation in his eyes. "You certainly have an unconventional way of offering advice, my dear. To think that a mere human would dare to challenge the ambitions of a hybrid original. It's oddly refreshing." 

Wren couldn't help but smile, relieved by Klaus's unexpected response. "I suppose someone has to keep you on your toes, even if it's a lowly human like me," she quipped, the tension in the air dissipating.

“Did you just comfort me?” Klaus asked, his eyes widening with surprise as he sensed a subtle easing of his anger. "Well, if you didn't look so tragically sad, I wouldn't have to step in and save the day," she retorted in a hushed voice, a playful glimmer in her eyes.

Wren reached into her pocket, retrieving a cigarette, and held it up playfully. "I'd offer, but I wouldn't want to offend your refined palate," she smirked, thinking about the abundance of expensive cigars in the grand mansion. Stefan shrugged nonchalantly, while Klaus's amusement was evident in his expression. "Ah, you see, my dear, my tastes are quite simple. I'm easily satisfied with nothing but the finest," he chuckled, a hint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

She laughed, lighting the cigarette, but a flicker of doubt crossed her mind. What am I doing here, sharing jokes with them? Not long ago, both were trying to kill me. She inched away from the front of the car, nestling into the back seats near the window, smoking quietly as she stared out into the distance.

Every so often sparks of realization shattered her temporary bliss, compelling her to delve deeper into her thoughts instead of simply indulging in laughter or another sip of her drink. As her mind churned with conflicting thoughts, she couldn't help but wonder if her own subconscious was attempting to protect her from Klaus or if it was subtly sabotaging any semblance of happiness or enjoyment she found in his company.  

With a shrug, she came to the realization that the conflict within her wouldn't be resolved in a matter of minutes or even days. Accepting the complexity of the situation, she chose to embrace the present moment and let the uncertainty linger for now. She reasoned that the future her would deal with it.

"Mind if we switch on the radio. It's getting a bit too gloomy in here," she requested, glancing at Klaus who remained silent. Noting the perpetual brooding nature of both Stefan and Klaus, she couldn't help but wonder if it was a vampire thing. Stefan constantly mired in thoughts of Elena, and Klaus weighed down by the memory of his failed hybrids.

"Great... One brooding original and no music for the rest of us," Wren muttered under her breath. Stefan couldn't help but chuckle before he switched on the music, undeterred by Klaus's glare. The radio filled the car with lively jazz tunes, creating an atmosphere reminiscent of bygone days. A smile tugged at the corners of Klaus's lips as he leaned back, enjoying the music. "Just like the old days," he remarked, his smile growing wider, as memories of past moments intertwined with the melodious jazz beats.

Their journey carried on until they reached a petrol station, pulling over to refill the car's tank. Klaus opted to stay inside the vehicle to reminisce, listening to the tunes, watching as Stefan took charge of refuelling.

"I'm going to grab something to eat," Wren announced, walking towards the petrol station. She paused midway and turned back, opening the car door to find Klaus lost in deep thought with closed eyes.

"I need money, unless you want to come in and compel me chips?" she asked, a playful smile on her face as she extended her hand towards him.

Klaus peered down at her with an air of disdain, his expression reflecting his disbelief. "The perpetual limitations of humans never fail to astound me," he remarked.

“Hey, I am just one among the three billion afflicted with the condition of mortality. So, can I have some cash?" Wren retorted.  

With a sigh, Klaus reached into a compartment in the car and pulled out a $50 bill, handing it over to Wren. 

"Thanks," she expressed with eagerness, closing Klaus's car door as she approached the entrance of the petrol station. The familiar mechanical chime announced her arrival, catching the attention of the cashier. Offering a light smile, she made her way towards the snack section of the store.

Inside, her gaze fell upon two other customers—a couple—engrossed in choosing their beverages from the drinks section. Wren grabbed a nearby cart and began filling it haphazardly with an assortment of snacks, paying little heed to their prices as she indulged in the spur-of-the-moment selection.

Her eyes narrowed as she walked past the peculiar couple. Despite lingering in the store for an extended period, neither of them had chosen any snacks, their baskets were empty and neither seemed to be carrying a wallet. Intrigued, she contemplated turning around to observe them further.

Before she could act on her curiosity, the man, startlingly swift, swiftly covered her mouth, muffling her shock. Panic flickered in the cashier's eyes as the woman approached him. In a sudden, alarming move, she struck the cashier from behind, rendering him unconscious. Wren's attempts to scream for Stefan or Klaus proved futile, as the stranger was too close, and the blaring music drowned out any chance of her cries being heard.

Regret washed over Wren as she scolded herself for requesting the music to be turned up to its highest volume, inadvertently hindering any chance of alerting her companions to the unfolding danger.

The woman pressed her hand firmly against Wren's mouth, silencing her potential screams. Drawing closer, she whispered with a hint of menace, “Shh... we can't have them hearing you yet, not after all the trouble we went through to find you guys. You guys are going to pay for what you did to our pack. Wren's eyes widened as she noticed the woman's eyes turning a piercing shade of yellow. A werewolf, just as she suspected. Ray’s pack!!

Suddenly, the man who had been behind her intervened, his voice laced with a chilling warning. "Listen carefully. I'm going to slowly release my grip on you. If you so much as make a sound, rest assured I can break your neck before Klaus has a chance to come to your rescue."

Despite the danger looming over her, Wren maintained her composure, her mind racing with thoughts of how to navigate this perilous situation.

Wren nodded cautiously, her voice a hushed whisper, "You’ll get no resistance from me... You're... you're from Ray's pack, aren't you?" She spoke slowly, aiming to convey her cooperation and avoid provoking any violent reactions.

The girl's eyes hardened, anger emanating from her as she responded through clenched teeth, "We were... until your friends took his life." Her growl carried the weight of loss and vengeance, fuelling her determination.

Desperation laced Wren's plea as she tried to reason with the werewolves. "Please, you've got the wrong person. I didn't kill him. I haven't done anything. It's Klaus and Stefan you want. I can lure them in, just spare my life," she implored, her voice trembling with a mixture of fear and cunning. She knew it was better to draw Klaus and Stefan into the confrontation with the werewolves rather than facing their wrath herself.

The man scoffed dismissively; his doubt evident in his voice. "You were with them when Ray was killed, and you seem quite chummy with them. Are we supposed to believe your words?"

Wren couldn't help but offer a sarcastic retort, her brows furrowing in annoyance. “I don’t mean any offence, but you try not laughing when the murderous vampire you’re stuck with tells a joke,” she replied, subtly challenging the credibility of her captors' accusations. The woman's expression shifted, indicating a mix of irritation and contemplation as she assessed the validity of Wren's words.

Wren raised her hands in a gesture of surrender, her voice filled with urgency. "Listen, you said you were Ray's friends. Ray and I were both- helpless. He understood that I didn't want to harm him, that I was forced to watch as they… Please, you have to believe me," she pleaded, her eyes pleading for their trust.

Suspicion lingered in their eyes as they exchanged glances, clearly sceptical of her claims. The man's anger flared, his voice dripping with scorn. "both helpless?! And yet, here you are, alive and sharing laughs with the very people who killed him, while he lies mutilated," he sneered, tightening his grip on Wren's arm. The pain served as a stark reminder of the danger she faced and the need to convince them of her innocence.

Wren remained silent; her gaze locked with the scrutinizing eyes of the woman standing before her. Panic gnawed at her, a nagging worry of how much longer she could maintain the facade. She gritted her teeth, a mix of frustration and resentment directed at Stefan and Klaus for putting her in this predicament. How much longer until they realise something?! Taking a deep breath, she exhaled slowly, attempting to steady her nerves and gather her thoughts for whatever came next.

"Lizzie, right?" Wren pressed on, her voice filled with a mix of empathy and determination. She observed the woman before her growing more receptive to her words, which fuelled her courage to carry on. "Ray mentioned her. His daughter. He spoke about her," Wren continued, carefully choosing her words. “I heard him, in his moments of crying out their names, Julie… he talked about her too. A-and Cassie”. Wren's voice trailed off, noticing the woman's eyes widening in recognition. "You must be Cassie," Wren concluded, a mix of relief and desperation evident in her voice. However, before Cassie could respond, the man behind Wren grew impatient, his grip tightening around her neck, cutting off her air supply. Wren's eyes welled up with tears as she fought to breathe, her gaze never leaving Cassie's face.

"Cassie... please," Wren croaked, her voice strained and pleading, hoping that the woman would intervene and save her from the imminent danger.

"Max... let her go. She doesn't deserve to die for Klaus' wrongdoings," Cassie pleaded, tugging on her friend's shirt. Wren nodded eagerly, her eyes filled with gratitude and relief. Max looked back at Cassie, his expression incredulous. "I said she doesn't deserve death, not that she's completely off the hook. But you're right, we just need Klaus and the other vampire with him... Stefan, was it?" Cassie clarified. Max grumbled in agreement, releasing his grip on Wren, though still keeping a firm hold on her.

Wren nodded appreciatively, though her smile was tinged with discomfort as she gently massaged her neck, anticipating the bruises that would soon form from Max's powerful grip.

"We'll wait inside the store and lure one of them out," Cassie declared, her voice brimming with determination. "Once they're inside, we'll ambush them and then go after the other one." Max chimed in, questioning their next move. Both Cassie and Max turned their attention to Wren, considering her role in their plan.

"We'll figure out what to do with her later," Cassie replied, her tone firm.

"But for now, she'll be our bait. Surely, they'll grow impatient and make their way in." Max nodded in agreement, affirming the plan.

They waited in anticipation, Wren taking the opportunity to rearrange the snacks in her cart. Cassie and Max exchanged incredulous glances, puzzled by Wren's seemingly nonchalant actions.

"What are you doing?" Cassie whispered, her voice filled with disbelief. Wren simply shrugged, replying, "If it's too quiet, they might get suspicious and decide not to come in at all." She continued rearranging the items, trying to maintain an appearance of normalcy.

Finally, the sound of Stefan's voice calling out Wren's name broke the silence, signalling his approach to the petrol station.

As Stefan entered the store, Cassie pounced on him, launching a series of quick and powerful strikes. Stefan fought back, trying to regain his composure amidst the sudden assault. Meanwhile, Max growled menacingly, preparing to join the attack. In the chaos, Wren found herself momentarily sidelined, observing the unfolding brawl.

With a sense of urgency, Wren's eyes darted around, searching for a way to help. Spotting a heavy bottle on her tray, she swiftly grabbed it, mustering her courage. Without hesitation, she swung the bottle with force, aiming it at Max's unsuspecting head. The bottle shattered upon impact, sending shards flying. Cassie turned her attention towards Wren in anger, but her focus was quickly diverted as Stefan delivered a swift kick, momentarily incapacitating her.

Max, now kneeling but rapidly recovering, turned around to face Wren, his fury evident. Wren's nerves heightened, her laughter betraying her nervousness. "Whoops, sorry," she stammered, taking a cautious step back. Her words only fuelled Max's anger, and he lunged towards her with vengeance. Wren's plea rang out, her voice echoing in the tense atmosphere, "Klaus! Now would be a good time as any!" 

In a flash, Klaus materialized inside the store, his hand thrusting out from Max's chest, gripping his heart with a victorious smirk. Max let out a final gasp, while Cassie cried out in anger before meeting a similar fate at Stefan's hands. The lifeless bodies crumpled to the floor, leaving Wren breathless and stunned.

"What the hell were you two doing?" Wren gasped, trying to regain her composure.

“Wondering the same of you.” Klaus shrugged, his voice tinged with a hint of indifference, as if he had expected nothing less from the situation.

Stefan approached the ruffled girl, assuring her, "You're safe now." His gaze conveyed a mix of sympathy and relief, recognizing the ordeal she had just endured.

Wren, with a determined glint in her eyes, declared, "That's it, Stefan. I'm officially gluing myself to you. Next time I need to restock on snacks, I'm going with you. I’ve had one too many experiences with getting ambushed," Wren muttered.  

Wren stooped down to retrieve the crate of snacks from the floor, her eyes caught sight of her beloved bag of chips, which had unfortunately landed perilously close to where Max's lifeless body lay. Letting out a resigned sigh, she muttered to herself, Well, I guess I'll have to skip on that.

She hurriedly walked past the cashier, paying no mind to the transaction. Stefan raised an eyebrow, jesting, "Not paying? How criminal."

Turning to face him with a glare of indignation, she snapped back, "I'm sorry, but you guys just killed two people, and I can't even grab a few bites of chips without being shamed?!" With a determined stride, she continued past them and settled herself comfortably in the car, feeling the weight of the recent events still lingering.

Stefan and Klaus eventually joined her in the car, the air heavy with the weight of their actions. Curiosity got the better of Klaus as he asked, "Who were they?" The question hung in the air, a reminder of the lives lost and the consequences they now faced.

"You killed them without any hesitation, and you don't even know who they were?" she asked, her voice laced with disbelief, directed at Klaus.

Klaus met her incredulous gaze and offered a wistful smile. "When you've lived as long as I have, little thief, you make many acquaintances and just as many enemies. The list becomes too extensive to recall each name and face," he explained, a hint of melancholy seeping into his words.

“I’m sure that’s partially true,” she scoffed, counting herself and Stefan among the limited circle of Klaus' acquaintances compared to his endless enemies. Klaus, catching her dismissive gesture, felt a twinge of annoyance furrow his brow.

“My bad,” Wren conceded, realising her oversight, “They’re friends of Rays…you know the guy you tortured and murdered,” she reminded.

Klaus chuckled, “good times indeed.”  

The days rolled on as the trio ventured further on their journey, the majority of the ride enveloped in a tranquil silence, interrupted only by occasional banter exchanged between them. Wren found herself chuckling at Stefan's clever remarks aimed at Klaus, finding amusement in their playful exchanges. However, her laughter swiftly faded when Klaus cast a piercing glare in her direction, causing her to raise her hands in surrender.

“Where did Klaus go?” Wren asked, slowly awakening from her slumber. In the beginning, being alone with the ripper had stirred a sense of fear within Wren. The reputation of Stefan’s insatiable hunger and his unpredictable nature, recounted nightmarishly by Klaus, had initially kept her on edge. However, as time passed and they travelled together, Wren had gradually grown accustomed to his company. She had learned to ease up around him, understanding that he wouldn't lose control in his hunger and harm her without reason.

“Went to make a call,” Stefan responded.               

"Ohhh? I suppose he doesn't want you to hear," Wren replied with a mischievous smile. Stefan, mirroring her smile, couldn't resist the opportunity to challenge her assumption. "How can you be so sure it's me?" he asked, his tone teasing.

Wren's smile widened, her confidence evident as she explained her reasoning. "Well, if I were Klaus, I wouldn't bother hiding my weaknesses from someone as insignificant as me. I would see no threat in sharing such information," she remarked, her voice laced with a playful tone. "But you, Stefan," she continued, teasingly pointing at him, "You're a force to be reckoned with- How’s that for an ego-booster."

Stefan chuckled, "you think I could take him on alone? You're still new to our world, so you probably might not grasp the supernatural hierarchy, Hybrid-"   

She interrupted him, her voice filled with confidence and a hint of spirited defiance. "No, I don't think you could defeat him on your own, Stefan. Klaus made it clear during his supernatural lessons that you still have much to learn compared to him." She paused, her smirk growing wider. "But here's the thing, Stefan. You're not alone like he is, are you? You have a doppelganger, a powerful witch, a loyal werewolf, and a whole group of vampires standing by your side, ready to answer your beck and call," she remarked, her tone teasing yet pointed.

Stefan's discomfort grew as he felt the weight of Wren's words, The thought of his friends willingly sacrificing themselves for him didn't sit well with him. He shifted uneasily, his expression reflecting his inner turmoil. "They have names, Wren, and they're not at my beck and call," Stefan corrected her, his voice firm and his gaze intense.

“Just semantic difference, either way they’d do anything to save you even at the peril of their own lives,” Wren replied with a casual shrug, seemingly unfazed by Stefan's correction. Her eyes light up musing, “perhaps that's precisely why Klaus is so insistent on having you by his side," Her words carried a hint of intrigue and analysis, as if she had unravelled a hidden truth. She noticed the sceptical expression on Stefan's face.

Wren continued; her tone filled with conviction. "Even if he himself isn't fully aware of it, Klaus admires how someone as ruthless and unforgiving as the ripper could inspire genuine love and unwavering devotion from those around him." Her observation held a sense of astuteness.

"Hmm... it seems you know him better than most," Stefan pondered aloud, his voice tinged with curiosity. There was a subtle shift in Stefan's demeanour, a growing interest in delving deeper into Wren's understanding of Klaus. He realized that she possessed a perspective that went beyond the surface, a keen perception of Klaus's intricacies that few others had tapped into.

"Not true," Wren retorted, a smirk gracing her lips. "I know most people better than they know themselves. It's a well-sharpened skill- reading others," she boasted.

Stefan couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at her self-assured remark. He had encountered many skilled observers over his long existence, but Wren's claim intrigued him. He couldn't deny the curiosity that swelled within him, eager to witness her insights in action.

Stefan yielded, “even after a century of playing guessing games, I doubt I would ever truly understand Klaus," His words carried a mixture of resignation and intrigue, acknowledging the enigmatic nature of Klaus. 

Wren, however, couldn't resist a triumphant smile as she met Stefan's gaze. "And that, my dear Stefan, says more about you than it does about Klaus," she challenged, her tone filled with an impish certainty.  

"Speaking of martyrs... Jenna, did you know her well?" Wren casually asked, her voice betraying a hint of curiosity as she feigned indifference. Her gaze remained fixed on the scenery outside the window, as if the mention of Jenna was a passing thought. The question lingered in the air, punctuated by a subtle tension that filled the car.

Stefan's curiosity was piqued by Wren's sudden interest in Jenna. His brow furrowed slightly as he sought to understand the reasons behind her curiosity. "Jenna? Why the sudden interest in her?" he asked, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

“I wouldn’t interest is the right word. Just a thought,” Wren quickly dismissed, attempting to downplay her curiosity. She waved it off as if it were a mere afterthought, masking her true intentions. "I mean, it’s not like I saw her get killed. Oh wait, I did. Consider it me processing the trauma,” Wren dismissed, feigning disinterest.

Stefan's gaze softened as he recognized the hidden pain beneath Wren's dismissive facade. He understood the weight of trauma and the need to process it in one's own way.

"She was Elena's aunt, you know," he began, his voice carrying a touch of sadness. "Jenna had taken care of Elena as her own since the tragic loss of Elena's parents. She was like a mother figure to her."

The weight of Klaus's actions weighed heavily on Stefan's heart as he spoke, his tone growing sombre. "Jenna didn't deserve the fate Klaus bestowed upon her, just as Elena didn't deserve the pain of losing her family," he expressed, a solemn reflection of the injustice that had befallen them.

Wren’s disappointment was palpable, “I asked about Jenna, not Elena,” she clarified, with a tinge of frustration. “I’ll take it that you didn’t know her well, or you’re too whipped with Elena to see beyond her,” Wren turned away, withdrawing from the conversation, “how much longer is Klaus going to take?!”   

The silence settled between them, punctuated only by the weight of her words. Stefan, lost in thought, contemplated Wren's pointed remark. There was a kernel of truth in her words, a realization that perhaps his closeness to Elena had clouded his understanding of others, including Jenna. Together, the pair waited in silence.  

Chapter Text

The sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of a bar- ‘Gloria’s bar’. Klaus adjusted his suit jacket, his eyes scanning the surroundings with a mixture of familiarity and caution. Stefan seemed lost in his own world, and Wren followed closely, her senses heightened as she prepared herself to formally meet a witch, like her brief chaotic introduction to Bonnie.

Wren had acquired an understanding of vampire and werewolf abilities, yet the potential of witches' powers continued to captivate her. Her mind grappled with the challenge of dispelling preconceived notions of witches donning pointy hats and riding broomsticks, leaving her both curious and in awe.

At their entrance, the lively atmosphere engulfed them. The room was filled with the smooth sounds of jazz music, soft conversations, and the clinking of glasses. The air was thick with the scent of various beverages and the energy of the patrons. Wren felt transported to a different time, wondering if it was the music to blame or the scent of aged wood.  

Klaus glanced at Stefan, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he surveyed the ambiance of Gloria's bar. "Familiar, isn't it?" he inquired, seeking Stefan’s recognition of the setting.

Wren couldn't resist chiming, compensating for Stefan's silence, her voice breaking through the conversation, “Nope, can’t say it is.” Stefan's brows furrowed in confusion as he scanned the surroundings, trying to recall any significant connection to the place.  

After a few moments, Stefan's eyes widened with recognition as memories from the past flooded his mind. "Can't believe this place is still here," he remarked, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. The familiarity of the bar began to resurface, evoking a mix of nostalgia and a sense of wonder.  

"You've got to be kidding me," an older lady emerged from one of the side doors, a smile spreading across her face as she locked eyes with Klaus. Recognition flickered between them, and they greeted each other warmly, their connection evident.

Klaus leaned towards Wren, his voice laced with admiration and respect. "Gloria, my dear, is a very powerful witch," he whispered, ensuring she was privy to this knowledge.  

Klaus followed Gloria's gesture and took a seat, his eyes never leaving her. Wren remained by his side, feeling a mixture of curiosity and caution in the presence of the powerful witch. Gloria's gaze shifted between them, her expression filled with intrigue.

“Stefan, be a pal and fix us something from behind the bar,” Klaus instructed seeking to secure discourse with Gloria, Stefan nodded hesitantly, and left. .

“I know why you’re here,” Gloria began, her voice carrying a hint of mystique.

Klaus leaned back in his seat, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Ah, Gloria, you always see through my intentions. There's a matter that requires your expertise, a dilemma that demands a touch of magic."

“A hybrid out to make more hybrids. That kind of news travels fast,” her voice towered as she leaned closer.

“So, what am I doing wrong? I undid the curse,” Klaus demanded eagerly.

Gloria's expression grew thoughtful, her eyes scanning, “Such a pursuit is not to be taken lightly, Klaus. A curse that long…anything can go wrong. To resolve it, we have to contact the witch that set the curse,” she sipped her herbal tea. Wren amused herself, noting that Gloria had chosen tea as her beverage of choice instead of indulging in the countless bottles of liquor lined up behind the counter

“Well, that would be the original witch…one problem only…she’s very dead,” Klaus let out an audible sigh, his frustration evident in his voice.

 “I know…I can contact her, but I need help…bring me Rebecca,” Gloria smirked, dismissing Klaus irritated tone.  

“Rebekah? My dear sister is quite occupied,” his voice laced with mischief and a hint of amusement.

“She has what I need. Bring her to me,” Gloria responded, unmoving to Klaus piercing stare.

Stefan's sudden interruption broke the tension in the air, He held up a picture frame, confusion etched on his face. Wren narrowed her eyes, the picture was of Klaus and Stefan dressed in 1920s fits, seemingly immersed in a joke between themselves as their hands wrapped around the waist of two other girls.

Klaus dismissed Stefan's queries with a wave of his hand, his gaze fixed on Gloria. "Gloria, my dear, I shall return with Rebekah. Ensure that everything else is prepared as needed," he stated with a confident smile, leaving the bar without further goodbyes.

Stefan continued to hound Klaus with a barrage of questions, his mind sparked with glimpses of faint memories.

“I’m a little busy right now…memory lane will have to wait.” 

“I need to know more, Klaus,” Stefan’s gaze locked with Klaus's, before finally relenting and releasing his grip.  

"You guys have this covered," Wren smiled, retreating towards the car, hoping to avoid getting caught in the middle of a potential brawl.  

"Your talents will be required," Klaus ordered with a sarcastic smile, causing Wren to pause in her steps and turn around.

"I can't say the same for you," Klaus retorted, swiftly turning to Stefan, and breaking his neck in a flash.

"What was that for?!" Wren exclaimed, stumbling back to avoid Stefan's unconscious form from falling on her. He landed with a loud thud onto the dirt ground. Wren winced, admonishing herself for not catching him. "Whoops," she muttered, frustrated with the situation and her own lack of reflexes.

"Can't have him bothering me with questions. We need to find my sister," Klaus nonchalantly stepped over Stefan's unconscious body.

"You could have just compelled him to stay back!!" she exclaimed.   

"My way is more efficient," he stated firmly, continuing on his path without sparing a second glance at Stefan.

"Yeah, until it’s not. Like let’s say when he wakes up and decides he isn’t too fond of having his neck snapped," Wren retorted sarcastically, her voice dripping with disdain.  

Klaus paused for a moment, his expression shifting from amusement to consideration. He let out a playful sigh and turned to Wren with a mischievous smile. "I suppose I can compel him then," he remarked, starting the engine of the car.  

Wren's concern for Stefan lingered in her mind, but she eventually decided to trust Klaus's judgment and joined him in the car. "Wait for me!" she called out, swiftly settling herself into the car seat.   

As Klaus and Wren entered the desolate warehouse, a sense of anticipation filled the air.

"Hey, the co-" Wren's words trailed off as her eyes landed on the row of familiar coffins in the warehouse. Caught off guard, she quickly tried to correct herself. "I mean, ah, a coffin," she stumbled over her words.

Klaus arched an eyebrow, seeing through her feeble attempt to cover her tracks. A knowing smile played on his lips as he responded, "I know you've been nosy, exploring the secrets of the estate and stumbling upon those coffins. I've been waiting for the day when your sense of morality would push you to confront me about them. Evidently it seems, the day won’t come."  

Wren's face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and nervousness of Klaus perceptiveness. She mustered the courage to meet his gaze, realizing that her inquisitiveness had not gone unnoticed.  

"I transport them occasionally or maintain their separation to ensure their safety," Klaus Mikaelson elucidated, his voice laced with a touch of sorrow.

Wren's questions of bewilderment echoed in her mind. Safe from who? Who is going around stealing people’s siblings and putting them in coffins?! she held back, opting for a more conciliatory prompt. “From whom?” she asked.  

Klaus's gaze hardened as he met her eyes, his voice steady yet filled with underlying pain. "From enemies who seek to harm them, from those who wish to exploit our family's weaknesses…From themselves," he judged, his words laced with a mixture of bitterness and protectiveness as his gaze directed at one of the coffins.  

Wren's eyes were drawn to Klaus as he approached the coffin, a mixture of sadness and weariness etched upon his face. The weight of his broad shoulders seemed to bear the burden of countless years filled with strife and relentless battles. Lines of experience and resilience traced his features, a testament to the countless challenges he had faced.

It was then that she remembered she was not speaking to a normal man slowly dawned upon her. It made sense, she supposed, that someone like Klaus Mikaelson would go to such extreme measures. He was a man of many enemies and few friends, she thought, acknowledging that this outcome was largely a result of his own actions.

As Klaus stood before the coffin, a profound sense of melancholy enveloped him. Carefully, Klaus lifted the lid of the oak coffin, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation coursing through him. Wren's eyes were fixated on the scene unfolding before her, a blend of curiosity and unease tugging at her senses. As the lid opened, it revealed a breathtaking sight—a stunning blonde with an ashen complexion adorned in exquisite jewellery and attire reminiscent of the jazz era. 

Time seemed to stand still as Klaus gazed upon the slumbering beauty before him. His usually intense and guarded expression softened, replaced by a tender affection that radiated from his eyes. The lines on his face seemed to momentarily fade, revealing a vulnerability rarely seen in the powerful Mikaelson.

Wren couldn't help but observe the subtle shift in Klaus's demeanour, a flicker of genuine love and nostalgia dancing across his features. It was as if the presence of this sleeping figure stirred long-buried emotions within him, evoking a sense of longing and a yearning for a simpler time.

As Wren leaned in closer, a sense of enchantment washed over her, captivating her attention and drawing her nearer towards the blonde-haired figures, both bearing the unmistakable allure of vampiric grace. 

Upon drawing closer, Wren's eyes discerned the delicate details that adorned the slumbering form within the confines of the coffin.

"I wouldn't get too close, lest you become her next meal," Klaus cautioned Wren, his voice tinged with a mix of concern and amusement. Sensing his warning, Wren instinctively took a step back, a flicker of vulnerability passing through her eyes, only to be met with a soft chuckle from the original vampire.

With her retreat, Klaus resumed his position beside his siter. 

"My sweet, foolish sister, Rebekah," Klaus murmured affectionately, his fingers delicately brushing away a stray lock of hair that adorned her peaceful face. His gaze lingered on her form, taking in the sight of her elegant slumber. Yet, a bittersweet sorrow permeated the air, for a dagger remained firmly pierced into her chest—a stark reminder of the vulnerability and agony she had endured.

"Beautiful,” Wren remarked, her eyes fixed on Rebekah's serene face. "It takes a certain level of finesse to pull off the 'dagger-in-the-chest' look with such grace,” she chuckled. 

“She is as beautiful she is lethal,” Klaus smirked proudly.

Wren couldn't help but smirk, feeling a sense of amusement taking over, “Well, it’s only fitting given her relations to you.” She chuckled, revelling in her playful jab at Klaus' penchant for violence.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. "Did you just hint at my beauty?" he questioned, his voice dripping with anticipated triumph.

"What...?" Wren stammered, caught off guard by Klaus's amusement, but she quickly regained her composure. She judged that denial would only appear a childish coverup for her embarrassment. After all, it was obvious to anyone that those bearing the Mikaelson genes were not lacking in the looks department.

“Yes, I did because I’m not blind nor cruel enough to deprive you of your sole redeeming quality," Wren quipped. Klaus rolled his eyes at her clever remark, diverting his focus to Rebekah as he carefully withdrew the dagger from her chest.

"Time to awaken, dear sister," Klaus whispered, his voice a soft command. With a gentle motion, he directed Wren to fulfill the task at hand, pulling her arm lightly towards him. As his fangs sank into her delicate wrist, leaving behind a pair of distinct puncture marks, a trickle of blood flowed into Rebekah's waiting mouth.

Right, what did I expect when he praised my talents, she recalled his earlier words, wincing at the pain.

"You've fulfilled your role for now. Let's make our way back to Gloria's bar," Klaus declared, gazing at his wristwatch as he started walking away. Wren wiped her wrist over her jacket, deciding it was wiser to save her vial of Klaus' blood in her pocket for emergencies. "Perfect timing indeed. Stefan should be awake by now," Klaus remarked with a satisfied smile.

"We're not going to wait for her to wake up?" Wren asked, her confusion evident. After driving for an hour to reach the warehouse, returning empty-handed seemed counterintuitive.

Klaus chuckled, shrugging, “you’re more than welcome to-”

“Say less,” Wren swiftly hastened her steps to catch up with Klaus, fearing the prospect of being left alone with his vampire sister who he had just described as having anger issues and enduring decades of desiccation without human blood.

As the duo drove back, Wren couldn't help but ask, "Why didn't we bring Stefan? And don't tell me it's because of his badgering about the past."

Klaus glanced at her, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. "You're still pondering over that?" he retorted, raising an eyebrow in playful disbelief.

Klaus reluctantly gave in to her inquisitive gaze. "My sister's temper surpasses even my own. Trust me, you wouldn't want to face her wrath after a decade of thirst, especially once she realizes she's lost yet another lover. And knowing her hysteria regarding matters of the heart, she'll likely blame me for it," he explained, his tone laced with a combination of caution and confidence. Klaus continued to observe Wren as she absorbed his words. "They were lovers of sorts in the past," he revealed, a touch of remorse crossing his features. "But circumstances led me to compel him to forget and dagger her," he clarified, providing further context to their complicated history.  

Wren paused as she registered Klaus words, feeling her hands naturally wonder to her forehead in memory of theatrical expressions of shock. Oh, woe is you! How utterly unfair and cruel it is that your sister might harbor anger towards you for daggering her and shattering her heart," she remarked sarcastically, her tone dripping with biting irony. “Hmm,” she settled firmly, exhaling away her daring thoughts.

"Anyhow, if she were to discover that Stefan has become enamoured with another," Klaus began, his voice tinged with a mix of caution and calculation, "she'll be too consumed over her anger and grief. And I cannot afford her to be distracted, not until I secure our mother's necklace," he emphasized, a smug and subtly threatening glare manifesting in his expression.

“Makes sense. I’m sure she can postpone her tears until you get your precious necklace,” Wren nodded with a dry sardonic tone. Klaus's glare bore down on her, causing Wren to instinctively lower her gaze. With a sheepish expression, she mimicked zipping her lips shut and discarded an imaginary key, indicating her submission to his disapproval. They walked in silence, as Klaus compelled one of the security guards at the warehouse to inform Rebekah to meet at Gloria’s bar after slashing his wrist and offering himself to her.  

The duo arrived back at the bar where Stefan had been staying since his return to life, his gaze filled with a mix of resentment and suspicion directed at Klaus. Wren greeted him with a smile, acknowledging his presence.

"Don't be so pouty, Stefan. Come now, we have all the time in the world to take a little stroll down memory lane," Klaus laughed playfully. Stefan let out a sigh, reluctantly following along. "Gloria, we'll be back in the evening. We're just going to remind our perpetually brooding Stefan here of a time when he actually knew how to have fun," Klaus chimed in, his tone laced with mischief. Gloria simply waved them off, unbothered, as the three of them headed towards the car.

Wren listened attentively as Klaus recounted the tale of how he had met Stefan and their complicated history. Eventually, they arrived at their destination—an old, dilapidated apartment.

"What are we doing here?" Stefan asked cautiously, his eyes narrowing with recognition as they ascended the creaking stairs towards the apartment.

"Tut tut, all in good time. Isn't it a charming little homestead?" Klaus remarked, a mischievous glint in his eyes as they approached the apartment on the second floor. Pausing momentarily, Klaus noticed the door slightly ajar, his suspicion growing. He exchanged a wary glance with Stefan before swiftly pushing the door wide open, revealing an empty space within.

Klaus surveyed the room, his senses attuned to any presence. He raised a finger to the air, his expression thoughtful. "Do you feel that? Is there anyone here?" he questioned, turning to both Wren and Stefan for their input.

Wren cautiously followed Klaus into the room, carefully stepping further inside. Her face contorted with a grimace as she observed the dust lingering in the air and the state of the furniture. "It's been vacant for days. Juveniles must break in here all the time," Stefan remarked, echoing Wren's observations.

"Ah, the good old times," Wren chuckled, fondly reminiscing about how she had once qualified for Klaus's playful accusations. She strolled around the room, inspecting the cracks that marred the walls, leaving Klaus and Stefan to their conversation. She overheard Klaus mentioning the name "Liam Grant," but quickly lost interest.

The dust-covered bedsheets and curtains served as a stark contrast to the luxurious ones she had enjoyed back at Klaus's mansion in Mystic Falls. Wren couldn't help but chuckle to herself. "I'm getting spoiled by Klaus," she mused before returning to join the other two in their exploration of the apartment.

"And relive the kill over and over again," Klaus emphasized, his voice tinged with a hint of darkness, as he opened a secret door. He turned to Stefan, a question in his eyes. Stefan's gaze widened as he approached the wall adorned with numerous scribbled names. He ventured further into the closet, seemingly entranced by what lay within.

“I must say, this takes the 'collector' archetype to a whole new level," Wren remarked, a touch of wry humour in her voice. "In those crime documentaries, it's usually more of a 'souvenir' situation, like panties or personal items,” Her curiosity fully piqued, she eagerly joined Stefan near the wall, ready to delve deeper into this chilling discovery.

Stefan frowned causing Wren to raise her hands in surrender, a surprised expression on her face. "Uh, sorry, didn’t know you were particular about the accusations," Wren retorted, her tone laced with slight sarcasm. "But I see, you'd rather be condemned as a serial murderer than be labelled a serial murderer pant-stealing pervert. Dually noted," she added, rolling her eyes in an exaggerated manner.

She playfully pushed Stefan aside to get a better view of the interior. However, her amusement quickly turned to shock as she spotted Elena hiding inside, the fear evident on both Stefan and Elena's faces. Wren instinctively gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth, but her reaction seemed futile as Klaus turned around, his interest now piqued by the unexpected turn of events.

A whirlwind of thoughts raced through Wren's mind, her heart pounding with a mix of surprise and apprehension. She could feel Klaus's gaze fixated on her, waiting for an explanation for her sudden gasp. In that moment, she weighed her options, her mind racing to come up with a plausible explanation that wouldn't give away Elena's presence or endanger their delicate situation. With a quick breath to steady herself, Wren prepared to respond, her words carefully chosen to navigate the uncertain territory that lay before them.

She clenched her teeth, making a concerted effort to regain her composure. "Look what I stumbled upon," she stated, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside. Wren observed the unmistakable panic and fear that flickered in Stefan and Elena's eyes. With an internal sigh, she forced a smile, her hand subtly reaching out towards Elena, barely grazing her arm. Inside, she found little amusement in witnessing Elena's apprehensive reaction to her touch, all the while reminding herself not to succumb to Klaus's influence.

Pulling herself back from the cramped space, Wren revealed a bottle of wine. Walking out into the open, she held it up with a glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. "I call dibs," she remarked with a hint of wry humour, attempting to divert attention away from the tension and provide a light-hearted distraction in the midst of their precarious circumstances.

Stefan mirrored Wren's composure and closed the door behind them. "1918, a single malt," he revealed, a smile playing on his lips. Klaus's face lit up with genuine delight at the mention of his favorite vintage. "Ah, a splendid choice indeed. We should seek out a suitable companion to enjoy it with," he suggested, glancing at Stefan before turning his attention back to Wren.

"It appears you have other talents, little thief," Klaus remarked, a smirk dancing on his lips. "If I had known, I would have appointed you as my personal alcohol scout. Your skills would have proven quite valuable," he added, his tone laced with playful amusement.

“Does the honour in dibbing mean nothing to you savages?” Wren exclaimed, feigning exasperation. The trio made their way out of the room, trailing behind Klaus as he mentioned finding a suitable meal to accompany their drink.  

"Save me the hunting extravaganza and instead, kindly leave me a glass of that fine wine," Wren requested as she settled herself in the car.  

"I've had my fill as well," Stefan chimed in, quickly getting into the car. Klaus eyed him suspiciously, his expression laced with disappointment. "Suit yourself, but you've been falling short of your reputation as the Ripper," Klaus tsked, shaking his head. "A real shame," he parted, flashing off with the bottle in hand.

"That bastard, I doubt he'll leave any for us," Wren grumbled with annoyance. Stefan patiently waited until Klaus was at a safe distance before expressing his gratitude. "Thank you for what you did back there," he said, a sincere smile forming on his face.

Wren waved her hand, dismissively.

“I’m sure Elena would feel the same… that was brave of you” Stefan responded with gratitude. 

Disconcerted with Stefan’s appeal to her good nature, Wren let out a dry, cynical scoff. "I didn't do it for her either, Stefan. I barely know Elena well enough to even consider deceiving THE Klaus Mikaelson on her behalf," she retorted. “If Klaus had given me the option to turn away and kept his boasting of her gruesome end to himself, and if it meant you wouldn't drown in your sorrows and ruin the road trip, then I would’ve outed her," she spoke harshly, her words laced with a hint of bitterness.

"Is that the number of reasons you're searching for to convince yourself that you're not a good person?" Stefan asked, his gaze piercing into her eyes, trying to unravel the complexities within her.

Wren hesitated, though she was relieved she hadn't witnessed Elena's death, a small part of her felt conflicted, as she saw glimpses of Jenna's features in Elena, and her determination to protect Elena wavered slightly. Struggling with the weight of self-reflection and the underlying motives behind her uncharacteristic act of saving Elena, Wren chose to respond with a scoff. "Besides," she added, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips, "I did manage to secure myself a free drink out of the whole ordeal." 

Stefan sighed, recognizing that pressing Wren further to acknowledge her selfless act might not yield the desired outcome. Instead, he chose to embrace the shift in conversation by lightening the mood. "I must admit, I'm almost saddened that you sacrificed that vintage drink to save Elena... " he chuckled as Wren raised a sceptical yet pleasantly surprised brow. “Almost,” he emphasised, eliciting a genuine blurt of laughter from Wren. 

Chapter Text

Stefan and Wren rejoined Klaus at Gloria's bar, where they found him downing another bottle. Wren's face contorted in a grimace as she glanced at the bottle, still feeling the effects of the earlier drink, which had left her feeling nauseous.

"We're drinking again?" she exclaimed, her voice laced with a hint of discomfort. The thought of consuming more alcohol at that moment didn't appeal to her, but she knew Klaus had his reasons for wanting to indulge.  

"The fun never ceases," Klaus smirked, raising his beer bottle in a toast towards Wren. She responded with a wry smile. "Tell that to my poor liver," she quipped, gently pushing the glass away from her.  

"Where's Rebecca?" Gloria asked, her brow furrowed in annoyance.

"She'll be here, I can't simply summon her at will," Klaus replied with a tight smile.  “And I bet this keeps you awake at night,” Wren chuckled, taking a dig at Klaus’ incessant need to control everyone. 

Gloria's interest was piqued as despite her expectations, Klaus did not lash out at the girl. Instead, he responded with an amused smile, which was a departure from his usual violent disposition.

"Stefan, what's the matter with you? I thought Chicago was your playground," Klaus drawled, his voice tinged with amusement. Wren's attention drifted away from the conversation, the effects of alcohol clouding her senses. As she succumbed to drowsiness, she entered a state of intermittent sleep, occasionally catching snippets of Klaus playfully taunting Stefan. A small smile tugged at her lips in her hazed state, finding enjoyment in their banter.

Klaus raised his glass towards Stefan and Wren, a glint in his eyes. "To friendship," he toasted, his voice laced with both sincerity and amusement. 

“Friendship?” she snorted, her words cutting through the air and drawing the attention of both Klaus and Stefan. Under their gaze, Wren drawled a finger to her lips as if she’d been caught, quickly she put a finger to her lips shushing them. Wren looked Klaus straight in the eyes, the weight of her words heavy with both vulnerability and defiance. "You want me to consider you a friend?" she asked, her voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "Well, forgive me if I find it a little difficult to think of you as such when at any given moment, you could snap my neck or rip out my heart without so much as a second thought."

Her words had shattered the light mood surrounding them, and Klaus's face darkened with a mix of annoyance and warning. "Then you’d do well to play your part, and not provoke my anger," he threatened, his tone laced with a menacing edge. Stefan, sensing the tension, instinctively moved closer, ready to intervene if Klaus posed a threat to the young girl.

Her head drooped, unable to resist the overwhelming effects of the drink, and she tumbled forward, landing with an audible thud on the table. Stefan hurriedly rose from his seat, ready to offer assistance, but found himself too far away to reach her in time. Klaus observed the scene, a mixture of exasperation and satisfaction on his face. "Well, it seems our spirited conversation knocked her off her feet," he quipped, unable to resist a hint of amusement. Stefan shot him a disapproving look, realizing that Klaus was revelling in the situation.

"Really? You could've prevented her from potentially getting a concussion," Stefan exclaimed, frustration evident in his voice, as he raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

"My bad," Klaus chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. "I only grant those privileges to my friends, and she made it quite clear she isn't one." Stefan rolled his eyes, returning to his seat. “Come on, Klaus. How childish,” Stefan's voice held a mix of disappointment and concern as he addressed Klaus. "It's almost as if you're bothered by the fact that she doesn't view you as a friend." His gaze bore into Klaus, searching for any sign of vulnerability.

Wren pretended to be asleep, listening to their conversation. The impact of the table on her head had jolted her awake, and she cursed herself for being so blunt and rejecting the lonely vampire-murderer, especially after he had offered her his friendship. Deciding it was best to act as if she were still asleep and let him cool off, she turned away from Klaus, her cheek resting on her arm with her face turned away from him. Her eyes wandered to the door, watching as people entered and left, filled with regret over her words and their implications for her chances of survival alongside the hybrid.

She paused her thoughts as she caught sight of Damon, who had assumed she was still asleep. Unbeknownst to Klaus, Damon was gesturing for Stefan to join him, likely indicating that they were going for a drink. "I'm going for a drink," Stefan's voice reached her ears, and she could sense the hesitation in his tone as he awaited Klaus's permission. Curiosity sparked within her, and she opened her eyes slightly wider, trying to confirm that it was indeed Damon.

What's he doing here? Did he come with Elena for Stefan? What are they planning?' Wren's mind raced with questions as she observed Damon's presence. Her thoughts shifted to the recent close encounter with Elena. Honestly, there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, and it seems they've managed to cross both lines to suicidal, she muttered to herself, acknowledging the risky situation unfolding before her. Klaus probably isn't going to let Stefan go that easily, not after that speech on friendship, and he might need Stefan to appease Rebecca's anger, she reasoned, her mind working through the possibilities. Which can only mean... that I should sit this out, Wren decided, closing her eyes tighter, hoping for a resolution to unfold without her involvement.

With Stefan's departure, the room fell into a heavy silence, punctuated by the sound of Klaus's drink sloshing as he lifted the bottle. Wren, still feigning sleep, lazily turned her cheek, stealing a glimpse at the melancholic vampire. She wasn't sure if she was offering a distraction for Stefan or genuinely wanted to offer solace to the original.    

Her eyes softened as they met Klaus's, a faint smile playing on her lips. She couldn't help but add a touch of humour to the situation, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere between them. "Maybe if I had the strength to match yours, we could be friends," she chuckled lightly. "Just to level the playing field, you know? If I could also snap your neck."

"Ah, an equal footing? That's just a naïve notion. Someone always has the upper hand, whether they admit it or not,” he replied, cynically.

"I'd believe that if I wasn't so sure that you're scared I'd kick your ass," Wren said, chortling at the amusing image. It was a peculiar sensation for her not to be the cynical one for once, and she couldn't help but find some amusement in the reversal of roles.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips as he entertained the thought, before falling shortly. “I wouldn't put it past you for trying, considering how I've treated you," Klaus remarked, his tone carrying a hint of remorse.  

Wren looked at Klaus, her eyes narrowing slightly as she processed his unexpected admission. His sincerity seemed genuine, and it momentarily softened her previously guarded demeanour. "I suppose you weren't the worst... though I can't say the same for everyone else you've killed."

“You judge me for my crimes?” he questioned; his tone tinged with a hint of vulnerability. His eyes searched Wren's face, hoping to find some understanding amidst the judgment. "I don't deny the darkness within me, nor the terrible acts I've committed. But I think it fair to share the burdens I’ve carried throughout the centuries,” his voice grew softer as he continued, revealing a glimpse of the torment hidden beneath his tough exterior. "Imagine growing up in a world where betrayal and violence were the only constants. Where trust was a luxury, I could ill afford. I am man made by the cruelty and manipulation of those who were meant to love me. My heart hardened and the path forged before me was one of destruction.” Klaus paused; his gaze distant as he relived painful memories. "I don’t ask for absolution or forgiveness. Dwelling on such matters would consume me entirely, considering the extensive list of my transgressions," Klaus stated, his tone laced with a mix of self-awareness and a touch of remorse.

Wren pondered for a moment, her mind grappling with how to respond to Klaus' unexpected display of vulnerability. She chose her words carefully, recognizing the significance of her response. “I don’t think I’m in a position to judge you. Your crimes are countless and your reasons even more so. Consider me of your kind, cruel and selfish in making. Whoever you’ve hurt, I’m only glad I didn’t wasn’t me,” she responded, her voice tinged with self-deprecation.  

She raised her glass, a bittersweet smile playing on her lips. "To us, of imperfect creation," she toasted, her words carrying a hint of resignation.

Klaus's voice resonated with a mixture of curiosity and disbelief. "What burden do you carry that inspires such words?" he inquired, genuine curiosity flickering in his eyes. Klaus's brows furrowed, a hint of confusion tainting his expression. He couldn't fathom how someone of her age could allude to a pain that resonated with his own. His eyes searched hers, seeking answers to the enigma that she presented. There was a rawness in his tone, an underlying vulnerability that mirrored the depths of his own experiences. Klaus yearned to understand the source of her understanding, to unravel the layers of her young yet weathered soul.

"It's funny... I have achieved in 16 years what the original Klaus Mikaelson could not for a thousand years," she laughed, her voice carrying a bitter edge.

Klaus's curiosity was piqued, his lips curling into a sly smile. "Oh? Pray tell," he urged, eager to hear her tale.

A glimmer of sadness flickered in her eyes as she continued, her voice tinged with a mix of remorse and resignation. "I've managed the feat of abandoning my family, the only one who was there for me. I left him behind, to wither in my past," she chuckled, the sound carrying a hint of self-mockery. Unbeknownst to her, tears welled up in her eyes, betraying the depth of her emotions. “We are monsters in our own right,” she concluded, wiping away a stray tear and turning away from him.

Klaus sat in silence, his usually sharp tongue momentarily at a loss for words. He watched as her vulnerability laid bare before him. A part of him yearned to know more about the depths of her pain, to understand the intricate layers that had shaped her. Yet, another part of him hesitated, unwilling to push the already unravelling girl further into the depths of her own sorrow.

In that moment, Klaus felt a sense of empathy wash over him, a rare compassion for someone who, like him, had endured their own personal demons. He recognized the fragility in her, the delicate balance between her strength and the weight of her past. And so, he chose not to pry, not to dig deeper into the wounds she had already opened.

"That's enough from me," Wren declared, a tiredness seeping into her voice. "I think I'll sleep this off." With a determined sip, she emptied her glass, hoping the intoxicating elixir would temporarily wash away the ache within her. Quickly, she succumbed to her weariness, her eyelids growing heavy and her mind drifting away.

Klaus pondered her words, taking another sip of his drink, savouring the taste as his thoughts swirled within. The sound of Gloria's voice broke through his contemplation, announcing the last call and signalling the departure of some patrons.

Nursing his drink, Klaus sighed, a sense of familiarity washing over him as he felt a presence taking the seat beside him. He glanced to his left and found Damon slipping into the seat with a mischievous smirk on his face, the air cackling with tension.  

A while later, Wren's eyes whipped open when the sound of tables being broken reached her ears. She quickly turned in her seat to witness the chaos unfolding before her. Klaus had thrown Damon onto the floor, shattering a couple of chairs in the process. A surge of anger radiated from Klaus as he ripped the leg off a chair, storming towards Damon with fierce determination in his eyes. Wren could sense the intensity of the moment as Klaus loomed over Damon, his voice dripping with menace. "You won't be any fun once you're dead," he taunted, his words carrying a chilling weight.

Wren stood in a daze, struggling to gather her bearings as she tried to recover from her inebriated state. Her eyes darted back and forth, witnessing the escalating confrontation between Klaus and Damon. Just as tension reached its peak, Gloria intervened, making her way towards the fighting pair. With a swift motion, Gloria forced the two apart, using her powers to ignite the poorly made stake in Klaus' hands, causing him to instinctively throw it aside. The dangerous weapon clattered to the ground, its threat extinguished in an instant. 

Klaus's eyes narrowed as he hissed at the slight burn on his hand, quickly releasing the burning stake. He composed himself, his anger simmering beneath the surface as Gloria's warning pierced through the tension. "Not in my bar, take it outside," she commanded, pointing sternly to the door. Klaus, though still seething, took a deep breath, regaining control over his emotions.

"You don't need to negotiate your brother's freedom, when I'm done with him, he won't want to go back," Klaus smirked, giving Damon's chest a patronizing pat as he stepped away.

"As patient and gracious as I have been to Stefan's pleas to spare you, you're certainly testing my resolve," Klaus chuckled, a hint of frustration lacing his words. "I'm starting to wonder if it's even worth it anymore." Damon seized the opportunity the moment Klaus's attention shifted, swiftly disappearing in a flash of movement.

Is Stefan meeting Elena? Please, let him be smart enough to not go with them, Wren silently pondered, resuming her seat. Stefan eventually returned, his eyes reflecting pain and turmoil. Wren leaned in, whispering words of reassurance, "You made the right call. You’ll feel better soon." She refilled his glass and gently rested her hand on his shoulder, offering a gesture of comfort in an attempt to ease his burdens.

"I didn't do it for myself, Wren. I left for her," Stefan replied, his words causing a flicker of surprise in Wren's eyes. "Right," she responded, choosing to sit back down, unsure of how to offer comfort without.

"It appears my sister didn't receive the memo. She's always been one to disregard deadlines," Klaus remarked impatiently, rolling his eyes. "She has quite the fondness for a personal chaperone," he added with a smirk, guiding the two of them out of the bar. "We'll be back shortly, Gloria," he assured the barkeeper as they exited. They drove to the familiar warehouse where Klaus kept his siblings under his watchful eye. Wren scoffed gathering that Klaus had lost his patience and resigned to use Stefan to herd his sister to do his bidding. "You two, stay here until I give further instructions," he instructed, entering the warehouse. Wren and Stefan stood outside the door, their ears perked up, capturing the echoes of a fierce brawl between the warring siblings. The sounds of crashing objects and muffled shouts filled the air. Wren exchanged a worried glance with Stefan, both of them bracing themselves for the aftermath.

After what seemed like an eternity, the commotion subsided, and the tension that hung in the air began to dissipate. Wren sensed a shift in the atmosphere as the once-fiery storm gave way to an uneasy calm. It was then that Klaus swung the door open, inviting Wren and Stefan to step inside, his countenance now a mask of feigned composure.

"I've brought you a small peace offering," Klaus said with a smile, gesturing for Wren and Stefan to step forward. Wren's eyes widened in awe as she gazed upon the rejuvenated Rebekah, liberated from her desiccated state. Rebekah's expression was less than pleased until her gaze landed on Stefan. Klaus couldn't help but smile at her reaction, and he approached Stefan, using his compulsion to trigger the younger vampire's memories. Stefan stood in silence as the recollections flooded back to him. "Rebekah," he smiled, moving closer to her, the memories of their relations resurfacing before turning to Klaus. "I remember you. We were friends."

"We are friends," Klaus insisted, his attention fully consumed by the unfolding reunion. Wren stood there, feeling a sense of awkwardness enveloping her, a forced smile gracing her lips as she patiently waited for Klaus to introduce her. However, it seemed that Klaus was either too preoccupied or indifferent to her presence as he focused on introducing Stefan to his sister. 

Wren's eyes darted between the Mikaelson siblings, searching for any lingering traces of hostility or hidden agendas. She observed the clenched jaws, the guarded glances, and the air of restrained tension. It was a fragile truce, a temporary ceasefire born out of necessity rather than genuine reconciliation. As they stood together in that uneasy moment, Wren couldn't help but wonder how long this fragile peace would hold.

Klaus Mikaelson: "Dear sister, I've heard that you possess knowledge on how to contact the original witch," Klaus approached Rebekah with purpose in his steps.

Rebekah: "The original witch?" she repeated, her brows furrowing in curiosity.

Klaus: "Tell me, what is it that Gloria requires from you?" Klaus inquired, his tone becoming serious as he interrogated his sister. Rebecca let out a weary sigh, her hand instinctively moving to her neck, searching for something.

"Where is my necklace, Nik? What have you done with it?" Rebekah's voice carried a tinge of anger.

"We need to find it, Nik. I want it back, and I want it now," she demanded, her eyes shooting daggers as she frantically searched around herself, hoping to find the misplaced necklace.

"Tell me that's not what she needs," Klaus seethed with growing anger, his voice laced with frustration. The mere thought of his hybrid army's fate being tied to the search for a single necklace fuelled his rage.

Rebekah forcefully pushed him away and made her way to her coffin, frantically feeling for the necklace. Frustration consumed her as she failed to locate it, causing her to grunt in anger. In a fit of rage, she threw the coffin to the floor, shattering it into countless pieces. Wren couldn't help but take note of the anger issues that seemed to run in the family, even in the midst of such chaos, Rebekah's beauty shone through.

"Rebekah... Rebekah!" Klaus called out, his voice filled with impatience. "Shouting won't make it magically appear. Try to remember where you last had it!" His tone turned threatening as he emphasized the importance of finding the necklace. "I need it, or you will have outlived your usefulness," he warned, his words carrying a sense of urgency.

Rebekah's anger flared up at Klaus's threat. "You heartless bastard!" she shouted; frustration evident in her voice. She attempted to shove him and throw a punch, but Klaus's speed and reflexes outmatched her. He skilfully evaded her attack, maintaining his composure amidst the chaos.

"How?" Rebekah asked, her confusion evident as she observed Klaus's enhanced strength and speed.

Klaus smirked, revelling in his accomplishment. "I've broken the curse, dear sister," he declared, his voice laced with pride. "I would have thought such news would be cause for celebration. Yet here you stand, looking at me with nothing but contempt," he snarled.

Rebekah's retort dripped with sarcasm as she fired back, "Well, congratulations, Nik. More power for you to torment our family with. Forgive me if I'm not jumping for joy."

Klaus let out a weary sigh, feeling the weight of the situation. He turned to leave the warehouse but not before making an attempt to mend the strained atmosphere. "Come on then, as an apology, Stefan here will be your personal chaperone. You've missed out on a great deal of changes," he said with a forced smile, hoping to ease Rebecca's anger. Stefan's expression soured as he reluctantly accepted his newfound role as Rebecca's chaperone.

Rebecca's mood brightened slightly, her frustration over the lost necklace momentarily overshadowed. "Well, I suppose it'll help me remember where the necklace was," she said, casting a seductive glance at Stefan. Klaus rolled his eyes, moving away from the scene. As Rebecca's eyes turned toward Wren, curiosity sparked within her. "And who is she?" she inquired, seeking to uncover the mysterious presence in their midst.

"She is Wren," Klaus stated matter-of-factly, withholding any additional information. Wren took the opportunity to step forward out of the shadows and introduce herself, hoping to make a good impression on another vampiric being that could easily snuff out her life. "As Klaus so eloquently put it," she began with a touch of sarcasm, "I'm Wren. I have to say, you look much better without the dagger poking out," she remarked, offering an inviting smile.

Rebekah's gaze swept over Wren, seemingly unimpressed. She let out a nonchalant "hmm, you, how old are you?” she asked, not bothering to wait for a response, before turning to Klaus, unable to resist a mocking remark, "I wasn't aware you were in the habit of befriending little girls now, brother. Is this some new fascination of yours?" Her tone held a hint of sarcasm, clearly unimpressed by Wren's presence and questioning Klaus's choice of companionship.

“Klaus raised an eyebrow in response to Rebekah's taunting comment. With a sly smile, he retorted, "Oh, dear sister, don't be so quick to judge. Wren may appear as a 'little girl' to you, but I assure you, she possesses more her own talents.”  

Rebekah turned to Wren; a sceptical gaze fixed upon her as she tried to discern the girl. She could detect that Wren was human from her scent, and yet she was still alive and privy to her brother’s matters. There had to be something more to it, she surmised, her gaze softening as she pitied the girl. "hmm…I have no doubt about her talents. Why else would you be with her if not to make use of her?" Rebekah remarked, her tone laced with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Klaus rolled his eyes and charged to the exit, with Stefan in tow.

Rebekah neared Wren, a hint of concern in her voice. "word of warning, so listen closely, love. My brother possesses a penchant for violence and leaves a trail of destruction in his wake, be it to his enemies, friends, family, or even himself. I don’t know what business you have with my brother, but tread carefully. In fact, if I were in your shoes, I'd run… while you still can," she advised, her words carrying a tinge of bitterness towards her own brother.

And, how did running away turn out for you? Her initial retort lingered on the tip of her tongue, but she opted for a more diplomatic response. "Considering you've endured his company for over a millennium, I will etch your words into stone and carry them with me," she replied, gratitude evident in her tone. She couldn't help but inject a touch of humour into her response. "As for running, well, even in my best running shoes, I have a feeling Klaus would magically appear right in front of me before I could even take a proper step.”

Rebekah chuckled, amused. “There is truth in that. Running from Klaus is no easy feat, my dear."  

As they settled into the car, Rebekah's eyes widened in astonishment as she took in the sight of the surrounding buildings. Having been desiccated since the Jazz Era, the modern architecture and bustling cityscape were a stark contrast to the world she had last known. Her gaze darted from one skyscraper to another, her lips forming a silent "wow" as she absorbed the magnitude of the changes that had taken place during her slumber. The vibrant energy of the city was a far cry from the bygone era she had once called home, and Rebekah couldn't help but feel a mix of fascination and slight unease at the unfamiliarity of it all.

Suddenly, Rebekah's gaze shifted from outside the car window to Wren, her eyes scanning the younger girl's clothing. A disapproving frown creased her face as she took in Wren's attire. "What is that horrid thing you're wearing?" she exclaimed, unable to hide her disdain. "It's a disservice to yourself and others," she added, her grimace deepening.

Caught off guard by Rebekah's fashion critique, Wren couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, your brother has been taking care of me in many other ways, so I suppose I can forgive the lack of fashionable clothing," Wren responded, shooting a playful glance at Klaus. "A road trip with him doesn't exactly provide ample opportunities for shopping sprees," she added, highlighting the adventurous and unpredictable nature of their journey.

Rebekah smiled at Wren's response, finding some amusement in her observation. As the car ride continued, Rebekah went off on a spirited tangent about the art of dressing up well, passionately sharing her knowledge of historical fashion styles that she believed were superior to the current trends. Her voice was animated and filled with enthusiasm as she delved into the intricacies of corsets, hoop skirts, and elegant gowns that exuded timeless charm.

Wren couldn't help but notice the way Rebekah occasionally gazed at Stefan in the front seat. Amidst Rebekah's loud and confident demeanour, there were fleeting moments when Wren caught a glimpse of a softer side, a reminiscent look that spoke of a young girl in love. It was in those moments that Wren almost forgot Rebekah's true age, her thousand-year existence as a vampire, and the likely dark and blood-stained history that accompanied it.

A wistful longing flickered within her, she couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like to engage in light-hearted conversations with friends about the ups and downs of romance, sharing laughter and secrets about boys. Such innocent and carefree discussions seemed foreign to her, given the unconventional circumstances of her upbringing. As her mind drifted, she imagined the scenarios that could have been, picturing herself immersed in the gossip and giggles of teenage camaraderie. But that wasn’t her reality nor was it Rebekah’s. A bittersweet smile graced her lips as she allowed herself to indulge in these fleeting daydreams.  

The afternoon dragged on as Rebekah indulged in her passion for shopping, browsing through dresses and urging Wren to try on various outfits. Wren obliged occasionally, enjoying the camaraderie and the chance to step out of her comfort zone.

“So, women in the 21^st century like to dress like prostitutes,” she remarked, eliciting a chuckle from Wren. “You know I got looks for wearing trousers,” Rebekah scoffed.

“Sister, you wore trousers so women now can wear nothing,” Klaus laughed.

"If I recall correctly, you weren't complaining about that when we ran into that beautiful brunette on the way here," Wren playfully retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.  

"So, what do you think?" Rebekah asked the trio, eager to hear their opinions on her outfit.

"I like it," Stefan forced a tight smile, though his true feelings were evident. Rebekah frowned and returned to the changing rooms, dissatisfied with his response."I can always tell when you're lying, Stefan." Stefan shrugged, glancing at Klaus for support.

"Nicely done," Klaus sighed, acknowledging Stefan's attempt to play along. "You're the one who pulled the dagger out of her," Stefan retorted, referring to their recent encounter. Wren noticed a change in Stefan's demeanour as he bantered with Klaus. He seemed less tense and more at ease, displaying a lighter and comedic side to his personality. She guessed it was likely as result of his memories with Klaus returning, which seemed to have brought them closer as friends.

"I'm going to get a drink," Stefan chuckled, standing up and leaving without cue of confirmation from the hybrid. Klaus didn't stop him or give any indication to stay; he simply smiled, allowing the younger vampire to depart on his own. Their laxness towards one another confirmed Wren’s observation.

"We should head off soon, see if Gloria has made any progress, no thanks to you, dear sister," Klaus announced, rising from his chair.

Rebekah remained firm in her seat, not showing any indication of moving. "What about Stefan?" she questioned; her voice laced with scepticism.

"I assure you, he'll return," Klaus replied with unwavering certainty.

Rebekah's doubt was evident as she asked, "How are you so sure?"

"I offer Stefan friendship, and I've granted Stefan the freedom he yearned for by restoring his memories, enabling him to rekindle his true ripper nature," Klaus declared with unwavering confidence. "I have liberated him from the shackles of his self-imposed morality, allowing him to embrace the darkness within. Trust me, he will undoubtedly find his way back to us,” Klaus responded, smiling proudly about his creation.

“Yeah, that and you’re threatening him with everyone he knows,” Wren interjected in a hushed tone, as the trio arrived at Gloria’s bar.

"You finally decided to grace us with your presence, Stefan," Klaus smirked, casting a victorious glance at Rebekah.

"Sorry, retail therapy was starting to make my head spin," Stefan apologized as he approached the bar. "What is she up to now?" Stefan inquired, his eyes filled with apprehension as he glanced at Gloria.

Gloria sat at the table, her lips moving in silent incantations, but her efforts seemed to be in vain. Weariness seeped into her sighs with each passing attempt.

"Failing," Klaus responded with a tinge of disappointment, taking a leisurely sip of his drink. "It's hard to find something when you don't have anything to go on," Gloria retorted, her voice tinged with frustration, as she sat before a table adorned with flickering candles and an assortment of mystical herbs.

"So, use me then. I've only been wearing it for a thousand years," Rebekah chimed in, matching her brother's impatience. She gracefully stepped off the bar counter and walked over to stand beside Gloria. Gloria nodded, placing a hand on Rebekah's and channelling her magic through a series of incantations and spells.

Stefan interjected nervously, his voice breaking the silence. "She's, um... she's searching for the necklace, right?" Wren couldn't help but notice the awkward tension emanating from him, a stark contrast to his earlier lighter demeanour in the presence of Klaus.

Klaus's eyes narrowed as he regarded Stefan. "Is that a problem?" he questioned, a hint of suspicion in his voice. Stefan mustered a tight smile and replied, "Of course not. I was merely wondering how long the search would take. I'm starting to feel rather thirsty," he added, glancing at Wren while audibly swallowing.

"Hey! Did you just look at me and gulp?" Wren scowled, shooting Stefan an accusing glare. She couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with him. His sudden change in behavior towards her seemed out of character, given their friendly relations.

Before Wren could react, Stefan flashed in front of her, his fangs bared and ready to strike. "Sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with remorse. Wren gasped, her confusion only deepened as she tried to make sense of his sudden aggression.

Klaus swiftly intervened, forcefully pulling Stefan away from her and pushing her out of harm's way. As Wren stumbled back, her hand accidentally landed on Gloria's arm. In that instant, a vivid illusion materialized before her eyes—an image of Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline, with Elena prominently wearing the necklace. Wren gasped, quickly retracting her hand from Gloria's arm and falling to the floor, her mind racing with the revelation.

“Now, now, children, let's not be rude to Gloria. She's the only one proving useful," Klaus chastised, his tone laced with a warning as he shot a disapproving glare at Stefan. Stefan regained his composure, his fangs retracting. Klaus approached Wren, offering his hand to help her up. "Forgive him," Klaus urged, referring to Stefan. "He's a bit on edge after embracing his ripper side. Are you alright, little thief?”

"Thanks," Wren replied, her mind filled with confusion, leaving her unable to come up with a snarky response to Stefan. So that's why Stefan doesn't want Gloria digging around... Elena has the necklace, and Klaus might discover that she's still alive, she thought to herself, connecting the dots. Only then did her anger ignite towards Stefan for using her, even if it was for the purpose of saving Elena.

"I sense something," Gloria interrupted, and Stefan's expression immediately turned panicked. "A girl," Gloria continued her chanting, her eyes focused intently. "I found it."

Rebekah, growing impatient, asked, "So where is it?"

"It doesn't work like that, doll," Gloria explained with a smile. "I get glimpses, images of a girl with her friends."

Rebekah's frustration grew as she retorted, "Yes, a dead girl with dead friends if I don't get my necklace back."

Gloria nodded, understanding the urgency. "Yeah, well, I'll have to dive back in and get the details. It takes time to decipher the visions and locate the exact whereabouts."

"So, dive away," Klaus smiled, placing his hands on the table in front of Gloria, “we can wait.”

Gloria sighed, feeling the pressure. "I'm sure you can, but that's not what I asked for," she warned, emphasizing the need for uninterrupted concentration.

Stefan stepped forward, suggesting a break. "Hey, why don't we come back later? We could all use some fresh air and nourishment. We've seen what happens when we're cooped up all day," he suggested, giving a friendly pat on Klaus's shoulder and casting a meaningful glance at Wren.

Wren sighed, realizing Stefan's failed attempt at deception. "Please, someone go with him and make sure he feeds, so I don't end up with another concussion," she chimed in, empathizing with Stefan's struggles. Stefan looked at her gratefully as Rebekah took hold of his arm, leading him away. Klaus followed suit, but not before pointing a finger at Wren.

"You can stay here. We'll be back shortly. I'm sure you'd appreciate some distance from Stefan," Klaus remarked, leaving Wren alone with Gloria to continue their search.

Reluctantly, Wren accepted the situation, despite dreading the prospect of being alone with the unknown witch. However, she couldn't ignore the desperation in Stefan's face, prompting her to relent.

"Just don't take too long," she murmured, taking a seat and preparing herself for what lay ahead. "It'll be a relieving change to not receive your judgmental glares whenever I feed," Klaus chuckled, his tone laced with amusement, before he swiftly disappeared.

Wren turned; her smile now tinged with awkwardness as she faced Gloria. "I suppose I'll leave you to your magic, then," she said, a slight unease in her voice. Gloria peered up at her, her gaze filled with curiosity. "Tell me, child, what business do you have with the hybrid?" she inquired, her tone holding a hint of intrigue.

Wren's smile faltered slightly as she met Gloria's gaze. "Oh, you know how it is," she replied evasively. "One moment I'm minding my own business, and the next thing I know, there’s Klaus. And well, time has a funny way of passing, doesn't it? Months have slipped by since then." Wren couldn't help but wonder if Klaus had divulged the secrets of her blood to Gloria or if it was one of his many other mystic allies who possessed that knowledge. Assuming the former to be true, she held her tongue, not willing to reveal too much about herself to someone she still didn't fully trust. Wren approached Gloria, subtly diverting the conversation away from witches in general. "Say, aside from your impressive tracking skills, what else can you do?" she inquired, genuinely curious about the extent of Gloria's capabilities.

Gloria let out a scoff at the question, her expression conveying a hint of amusement mixed with a touch of superiority. "My dear, the question isn't what I can do, but rather what I can't do. As a witch with centuries of knowledge and mastery, there are few limits to my abilities. From casting powerful spells to communing with spirits, manipulating elements to delving into the depths of ancient magic, my repertoire is vast and ever-expanding. So, you see, tracking is just one small aspect of my vast array of talents."

Wren's eyes sparkled with admiration as she leaned forward, urging Gloria to share more of her mystical knowledge. "Tell me more," she pleaded, her curiosity piqued.

Gloria couldn't help but chuckle at Wren's enthusiastic curiosity, finding delight in the young girl's genuine interest. However, her amusement was short-lived as she realized the pressing need to focus on her duties. “As cute as your inquisitive nature is, I'm afraid I don't have the luxury of time to indulge in all your questions right now."

Gloria's tone shifted, her expression growing more serious as she continued, "I have important tasks to attend to. Preparations for the upcoming spell must be made, and I cannot afford any distractions.” Gloria, with a hint of disdain in her voice, muttered to herself, "I'll make sure to keep my engagement with the hybrid as brief as possible. The less time spent in the presence of any Mikaelson, the better."  

As Gloria headed towards the exit and turned the sign on the door to closed. She glanced back at Wren with a mischievous smile, offering one final piece of advice, "Remember, my dear, refrain from touching anything in here unless you wish to sprout amphibian features and croak your way through life." With a wink, she stepped out into the night, leaving Wren to ponder the consequences of a wayward touch within the magical realm.

As the door closed behind Gloria, Wren found herself alone in the expansive room, her senses heightened with a mix of anticipation and unease. Deciding to ease her nerves with a drink, she sat at the bar counter, sipping her drink, her eyes wandering around the dimly lit room. Past the polished bar counter, her gaze was drawn to a door tucked away in a corner. There was an inexplicable pull, a curiosity stirring deep within her, urging her to explore what lay beyond.

She set her drink down, her fingers tapping against the smooth surface of the bar as she debated whether to follow her instincts. The promised threat of being turned into a frog would’ve been enough to deter the normal her, but the door seemed to hold the promise of enchantment, and she couldn't help but feel a tingling excitement in the air.

With a mix of excitement and trepidation, Wren pushed herself off the barstool and made her way towards the hidden door. Each step brought her closer to the threshold of mystery. Her heart pounded with anticipation as her hand reached for the cold doorknob. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped inside, her senses instantly engulfed by an otherworldly atmosphere. The room was bathed in a soft glow, filled with ancient relics, spell books, and artifacts from ages long past.   

As Wren's eyes scanned the various objects on the table, her gaze was suddenly captivated by a peculiar sight. Nestled among the trinkets and artifacts, a spiral-shaped silver necklace caught her attention. It seemed to emanate a subtle, mysterious allure, beckoning her closer.

In a trance-like state, Wren reached out and picked up the necklace, feeling the coolness of the silver against her fingertips. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the intricate spiral design, mesmerized by its hypnotic pattern. It was as if the spiral held some hidden power, drawing her deeper into its enchantment.

With a gentle touch, Wren began tracing the spiral's winding lines, starting from the outer edges and following their path towards the center. Each stroke of her finger felt strangely comforting, as if the spiral held secrets waiting to be unravelled. She found herself immersed in a meditative dance, lost in the graceful curves and delicate twists of the pattern.

As her exploration reached the heart of the spiral, a surge of energy coursed through Wren. Amidst the daze, indecipherable whispers of a different tongue filled the air. The sudden intensity of the whispers startled her, causing her grip to falter. The necklace slipped from her fingers, tumbling through the air. As it descended, a strange silence enveloped the room, abruptly cutting off the indiscernible murmurs. The atmosphere returned to its previous stillness, as if the whispers had never existed at all. Wren watched in awe as the necklace landed softly on the table, its spiral design glimmering in the dim light. She hesitated for a moment, unsure whether to reach for it again.

Finally, with a mix of trepidation and determination, she carefully covered her hands with the sleeves of her jacket, creating a barrier between her skin and the mysterious relic. She understood that caution was paramount, sensing an underlying power emanating from the necklace. Its very touch seemed capable of awakening dormant forces within her.

Gently, she picked up the necklace, cradling it in her palm as if holding a precious secret. The silver spiral seemed to pulse with a subtle energy, as if it carried the weight of forgotten histories and hidden knowledge. Wren made sure to secure it safely in her pocket, ensuring that no direct contact was made between her skin and the enigmatic artifact.

As Wren stepped out of the door, she was met with the unexpected sight of Gloria returning, a bag of items in her hands. Wren couldn't help but wonder how much time had elapsed during her intriguing encounter with the necklace.

"Surprise, I didn't turn into a frog," Wren forced a chuckle, attempting to regain her composure after the strange experience. She couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that her exploration hadn't incurred any unintended consequences. Glancing at Gloria, she couldn't shake the feeling that the witch's gaze held a hint of suspicion, as if sensing something amiss.

Gloria raised an eyebrow, her expression a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Well, you certainly look intact," she replied, a sly smile tugging at the corner of her lips. Wren couldn't help but feel a subtle undercurrent of scrutiny in Gloria's words, as if the witch had detected a shift in the air.

Wren let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Fine, you caught me," she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of frustration and shame.

Gloria's gaze bore into Wren with suspicion, her raised eyebrow silently urging her to continue, as if anticipating an explanation. "I confess, I just couldn't resist the temptation and had a few of your whiskey," Wren admitted apologetically, her tone tinged with feigned guilt. “You can add it on Klaus’ tab,” she offered meekly.

Gloria exhaled, relieved by Wren's confession. "Well, let's just say I'm feeling generous today," she responded, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Consider this a pass for indulging in a few drinks. Trust me, dealing with Klaus every day would make anyone want a drink or two," her demeanour eased, and she appeared less tense, as Wren expressed her gratitude.