"Finn. I am afraid there is no such thing." Tristan countered after a moment of contemplative silence.
"There is existing without fear, certainly. Empty, hollow echoes. But to live is to cherish. You will find that caring and terror are inseparable sisters." A scene stirred in his memories. Old and unvisited for the longest time.
"Would you like to know something I never encountered motive to discuss with anyone for the last millennium? The primeval reason why I still remain wholly incapable of taking Klaus as seriously as Lucien or the rest of the world does? It may involve me talking about the brother that condemned you to your current misfortune in not the most charitable terms." The warning was offered with a distant insinuation of amusement.
"You were not present that night, but they surely summarized the events. I confronted a pair of your siblings on their true nature, revealed to me by a survivor of Kol's careless gluttony. I leveraged my own deductions on, precisely enough, how afraid they were of something out there.
Now, there was a moment when Klaus seemed rather displeased, in the middle of our disagreement. Or so I suppose by the firm grasp of his hand robbing the air out of my neck and making pronouncements of how painful my end would be.
Make no mistake. I had plenty to lose with the moves I decided to make. I take great enjoyment out of life. I always have.
But what stayed with me during that brief confrontation was how much the pestering fiend invading my home...Reeked of fear. Beyond his growls and anger. Not in reason but tragedy. He was a slave to it.
That is what perpetually came back to me, whenever news of him reached my ear. He insisted enough. Most of the world learned to fear those growls and anger in return. But to me novelties of Klaus trying to break that silly curse, enlisting an army of unwilling hybrids or whatever else he did, were always tainted by the same consideration. There he goes. That fearful, little creature. Still a slave to it. If naivety was my sin, I reckon I would have experienced pity for him. But we are who we are." He mused complicity.
"I deprived your father of a feast myself, a century or so later, in the name of some vampires dear, old Lijah abandoned to their luck when the shadow of Mikael loomed on the horizon. I did not intercede because, in my heart of hearts, I was without fear of never seeing my sister again that fated night. But I could do it because I was not chained to it. Not a fool, but not a coward either. The point where guile meets bravery. Cunning united with courage. That is the very least a man should aspire to. Wouldn't you agree?" He turned to him in the paradox of inscrutable openness.
"Are you afraid, Finn? Good. I can only surmise that means life still covets you after all the centuries in darkness. Don't seek to live without fear of being relinquished of it again. Aspire to live valiantly instead. Be yourself. Be absolute. No matter where it takes you. Protect whatever you hold dear. Mercilessly. You will find life is worth one or two, secret shades of dread." The advice arrived in a rare moment of simple and clean sincerity. And just a touch of implied, entertained challenge.
"You are better than your brother. So, be better."
