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TU ES MORT ∞ NIKLAUS MIKAELSON

inspired by (x) @pencap

wc | 1.4k

warnings | this is only angst. sad. talks about s5.

notes: i’m sorry.

masterlist

you love him, you do.

Her fingers brushed across his jaw as he slept, completely and entirely at peace. There were few times he was afforded this luxury, allowed to have his own time. Ne’er-do-wells knocked on the doors, begged to be let in, pleaded for his weakness. A world without him would be better, they believed it, and they would make it so.

But not today. Today, he slept. Today, he stay curled in the covers next to her, soft blonde curls falling on his forehead, lips moving soundlessly, brows furrowing in his dreams. He did not stir when she touched him, but she would give anything to see those startlingly blue eyes peering up at her through dark lashes, full of so many secrets, so many wrongdoings, so much hope, so much want. But, now, she would admire, and she would let him sleep.

She would let him be at peace for a few hours more, because she loved him. Because he needed it.

and here’s the miracle: he loves you too.

She’s laughing, and God, the sound is melodic. She’s across the courtyard, speaking with his family, blending so well she might as well be one of them. Her stance is confident, her words are purposeful. Her hair is pushed away from her face, and her clothes are relaxed – a henley of his, he thinks. The smile that he wears is so fond, so loving, it hurts.

His thumbs brush the bristles of the paintbrush in his hand, and he dips it in a cerulean blue – her color. Vivid, bright, complex, deep. It blends, it mixes, and it stands out as if it were the only color on the canvas all at once and he doesn’t think there’s anything better to describe her. Then her eyes drift over to him, and her arms cross over her chest, and she bites her lip in a smile, and he thinks he might burst.

She’s beautiful, she’s everything he wants to keep safe. He loves her.

you are allowed to lick the colour from his lips, to listen to the hymns in his pulse to bask in the sunlight of his voice

Her lips push into his with fervor, hands cupping the sides of his face. His hot breath is mingling with her’s, and his fingertips are pushing into her hips, and she’s utterly at his mercy. But she doesn’t care. Her hands venture, just below his jaw, and her finger finds his pulse, solid and quick and there. He is alive in her hands, his ancient heart beats and it beats for her.

He pulls away with a breath, lips drifting from hers to her skin, starting at her cheeks, then her jaw, then her neck, then her collarbone; he’s kissing anywhere he can reach while she’s sitting on his lap. Her head falls back, and she says his name, and he groans. He loves that sound. Loves the idea that she is his.

Her fingers tangle in his hair, and she tugs, lightly, and he groans again, pulling away from her skin and staring her in the eye. His blue eyes, they’re hooded, shrouded by lashes, and her heart is about to beat out of her chest. This, him, this is what she wants. This is what she craves. Then he speaks, he says her name, and it sits on his tongue and lingers on his lips like a promise, like the key to every one of his secrets, and she is gone.

She is absolutely gone.

you are allowed to have him.

—

you love each other, you do.

His fingers graze her skin, lightly, like a whisper. He’s going to stay here tonight. He’s going to stay with her; she can’t be alone. Too many things that go bump in the night are after him, and if they were to ever find her, if they were to ever take her from him, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. A future without her was no future at all – it was a nightmare.

She knows he’s there, she knows he won’t leave. But she won’t open her eyes to look at him. She’s feigning sleep because she wants to rest, she wants a break. But she doesn’t want to fall into a world without his presence; her eyes are closed, but she will not sleep. Her breath is evening out, and the blackness of her vision is getting darker, and she knows that she can’t fight it, but she will try. She will try because she loves him and she wants to know he’s there. She needs to know he’s there.

He watches her fall into a slumber, watches her body fight until it can’t anymore and her head falls heavier against his lap. He does not stop touching her. He can’t. He can’t let her go; she is the very thing that keeps him alive. Her words are his energy, her smile his air, her eyes his inspiration, her body his motivation. She is everything. And he loves her.

and here’s the tragedy: it’s not enough.

They’re yelling at one another, tears are in her eyes and his gaze is stony. He’s daring her to get louder, to come closer, to challenge further. She’s telling him she will. And he doesn’t believe her. He doesn’t believe her because she should be scared of him. She should fear him like the rest do, she should hate him like every other person does. She should leave like everyone else.

But she doesn’t. And he hates it. She makes him vulnerable, gives his enemies a way to get to him, and he hates it.

you are allowed to watch the sun swallow him whole and burn him up to stain your fingers to the bone holding him together to count the constellations in his eyes as they blink out.

He’s crying, staring down at her with a sorrowful gaze. He’s not saying anything, but his lips are parted, like there are things he wants to put in the air. But he won’t. He won’t say anything; he will look at her, he will take her in, memorize her.

Her hand is holding his cheek, and the tears are streaming down her face relentlessly. She’s hoping he’ll decide differently, that he’ll decide this isn’t it, that it doesn’t have to be this way. But she knows he won’t. This is his decision, it is final. He is going to do it.

He has vanquished everyone else that stood in his way, put an end to every threat to his family, to his daughter, to her. Except himself. The darkness has taken him, and he is gone. He has been gone. But he stayed for her, did his best for her. He wanted her to feel love, to feel happiness, until the inevitable. He had redeemed himself, and now the better man in him was going to get him killed, and she was going to watch it happen. She was going to watch the light in him take him away from her.

Her breath was shaky as she continued to sob, and then she fell into his chest, clutching him close. She could hear his heartbeat against her ear, could feel the movement of his ribcage as he breathed. He was still breathing, his heart was still beating; she would commit the sound, the vibration, the rhythm, to memory. It would stay with her until her dying breath. She made a promise to him and she intended to keep it.

She promised to love him, she promised to keep him safe to the best of her ability. He had laughed at her then, assured her that he was invincible, that surely the tables would be turned; how could they have known?

His lips are on her head, hand stroking her hair. He does not want to let go, but he must. This is what he must do.

When she pulls away, the only thing she can see is him. His eyes are no longer strikingly blue like she remembered. They are dull, they are lonely. They are the ones she saw when she first met him. They are reflecting back to her the universe she repaired. And it makes her cry harder. She kisses him, then, soft, but lingering. And he welcomes it, hand catching just underneath her jaw, thumb pressed against the hollow of her cheek.

And then he leaves.

And she stands there.

And she feels it whenever he’s gone. It hurts. It makes her scream, makes her knees buckle.

She is alone.

She is without him.

you are not allowed to save him.