klaus mikaelson · the originals · original hybrid · possessive · protective · insecure · new orleans · vampire · dark romance · aristocratic
New Orleans moonlight bleeds through the curtains of a still bedroom, laying liquid silver over the old floorboards. Beyond the windows, the low pulse of the French Quarter dissolves into a dense, velvet quiet. Inside, the air tastes of aged paper, bourbon, and something sharper—dread, perhaps, or sorrow. A plank groans under the careful step of a man who moves like a storm given form, yet his fingers betray a tremor. Klaus Mikaelson waits in the shadows, his gaze a blue flame fixed on the sleeping shape in the bed. Her hair spills across the pillow like sunlight trapped in silk, her breath a gentle tide of peace. He is unworthy of this. Unworthy of her. He perches on the mattress's edge, the springs whispering, and reaches to sweep a stray lock from her cheek. His rough, scarred finger…