bakerstreet | BODY HEAT.

[ Klaus okay? ]

{By all means, have at it. :) }

In New Orleans the sweltering heat and humidity tend to be a problem more than anything else. Exceptions do happen. Especially away from the French Quarter and the city limits. A bit of a scavenge for ingredients vital to a spell they’ve currently been at work on. Camille is with Hope, leaving the two of them to embark on this little adventure. The breeze is steady and though Klaus manages to bring the embers to life and start a fire, combatting the chill is a bit of a losing battle. At least for the moment.

His gaze settles on Freya, sitting across from him...this, them, it’s an uneasy alliance. His trust is nearly impossible to gain and can be lost within the blink of an eye. He isn’t oblivious; without her, Dahlia would never have been defeated. They’re far more alike than Klaus is comfortably with admitting. Compared to their other siblings, the two are very much more alive, immortal yet different.

“Cold, sister?” His eyebrows raise in just though truth be told he isn’t any less susceptible to the elements than she. “Pity that,” the shrug of his shoulders can be taken as arrogance, really he’s merely having fun with the situation. “If only you only had someone to keep you warm,” pushing at the fire with a broken tree branch, he stares at her through the dancing flames. “Perhaps someone with wolf’s blood.”

It being the south, Freya hadn't dressed entirely warmly for this little outing, the witch clad in leather booties, jeans, a black lace top and light leather jacket. It would keep the wind from biting through at certain angles, but it wouldn't block it indefinitely. Thus, she sat across from her half-brother around the small fire, curled into a ball like stance with her knees pulled to her chest.

Freya feels his gaze and glances over, absently fingering the pendant around her neck. They had gained some traction with one another since Dahlia's defeat, but it was precious little. The brief glance into both his and Elijah's thoughts had confirmed her worst suspicions about him. That like most in their family, loyalty and respect would take time, but could be lost far more quickly.

And Freya after a thousand years of separation, of being the first true threat to him in several centuries, as well as being Mikael's favorite would have her work cut out for her. They balanced each other from different ends of the spectrum and knew how to push each other in ways the others could scarcely understand; this transition would be interesting.

"A bit," she admits softly, not sure what he was getting at. The witch exhales at his proposition, not biting right off the bat. "That would be appreciated to the alternative; given the storms that seemed determined to descend upon us. What would the cost be for such an offer?"

“The cost?” An undeniable smirk spreads across his lips; or that ‘crooked smile he does’, as Cami has taken to calling it. “You learn quickly, sister. A Mikaelson through and through.” Anyone who has dealt with him for a considerable period of time comes to expect that when Klaus offers something it’s never without a price. Better to keep them thinking that way. That his heart is as black as all the rumors make it out to be. Fooling her is considerably more difficult given the glimpse Freya was given into his head.

Lifting a hand, he places it against his chest, over the dark grey henley he’s wearing. “But you wound me.” On some levels he does trust her; they need one another, after all, for differing reasons. She’s the only one that can truly help guide Hope. And, deep down, they’re after the same thing aren’t they? Acceptance, family. “That I would be so cruel as to let my own blood suffer.”

Words spoken with obvious sarcasm in them. She’s immune to his favorite form of punishment, a dagger, though he’s understandably less fond of it now that he knows the feeling. Moving up to his feet, Klaus keeps his arms down at his sides, never having looked away from her. “Are you certain you want to get so close to the big bad wolf?”

Truth is, he’s still jealous of her. Mikael is nothing more than ashes now, relegated to a monster in his past, and Klaus envies the dying words of a man he onced called father. No explanation for his hatred. Just….affection towards the child he had barely known. And this, this is Klaus’ bravado getting the best of him. He doesn’t let anyone get close, this intimate, perhaps daring her to accept, thinking she won’t. “Come, love. A one time offer.” Holding Freya to conserve warmth would be far and away the closest they’ve ever been.

Freya's blue eyes sparkle slightly in the dancing half-light of the fire. As much as he liked to lull himself into that security, that even his siblings were...leery of his every action...they both knew it wasn't true. They had merely learned that 'something for nothing' wasn't Klaus's style. It didn't however, then ensure that his heart and soul were beyond redemption; just that as Esther always preached, there was a balance in everything. "Everything has its price," she replied, "even nature."

Her lips twist. "Blood you were all too eager to deny and discard a very short time ago."

Like him she wasn't one to forgive easily, yet another family trait it appeared. To be fair, Klaus's transgressions were far worse in this instance: attacking Finn to the point of death, breaking her neck and killing her beloved father before her very eyes. In truth, Freya could overlook the incident with Finn, Esther's misguided attempt to "cleanse" her children having ruined him. If there was anything she despised more than traitors, it was those who harmed children. She could also overlook the neck-breaking, due to the very issue that worried him -she wasn't as easily immobilized at his pleasure as their siblings. It was Mikael's murder that would be the hardest to forgive. Assisting her in the defeat of Dahlia was a start, though.

Finally she answers him, arms crossed loosely on top of her knees. Clearly not scared by the idea of a wolf, she had been raised by a beast far worse. "Every wolf needs it's pack." And for better or worse, a band of vampire -and sometimes witch- siblings had become Klaus's. "But knowing you, knowing the hybrid, what is the offer?"

“Ah,” words spoken all too truly, his refusal to buy into the stories fed to them, her plight, her intentions, while Elijah and Rebekah were happy to fawn over their newly discovered sibling, his reaction had been quite the opposite. “With good reason. Thanks to your witchy inference, you’ve a better knowledge of my mind than most. Rarely were my paranoia or suspicions unfounded.” Convincing him that those two traits weren’t almost wholly responsible for his survival throughout the centuries would have been impossible. Her gaze. the way her eyes shimmer, a hint of challenge in them...unaccustomed yet enticing to him. He had grown used to instilling fear in everyone and everything.

Referring to him as the hybrid only seems to increase the smirk that’s beset his lips. Klaus steps around the small campfire slowly, leaves crunching underneath his boots, closer to her, though there’s still a considerable amount of space between them. All the confidence helps to mask certain insecurities, what bothers him most is the fact that when she’s looking towards him, he feel as if Freya can see past that defense.

Thunder cracking overhead; all the indication needed that the storm is well on it’s way to catching up with them. “Truth be told, you fascinate me.” The eye contact is broken as he speaks. Klaus tilting his head back to glance towards the sky above them. “The dangers of our wicked aunt no longer a pressing issue…” Allowing a moment to really consider Freya. Before his attention had always been split, a multi-fronted war.

“Rebekah, I know. Our ever noble brother I can predict as well. But you.” His need to constantly be the one in control is well known to most that spent more than a few moments in his company. “The offer is a simple one, sister. Reject it and you’ll find yourself rather alone out here.” An advantage in speed is always nice to have, after all. “Or…” Reaching towards her, Klaus steadies his gaze, unwilling to back down. “Take my hand and in the current benevolence of my mood, I’ll provide shelter and warmth from the star.” A pause, as if he could leave it at that. “And you’ll owe me in the future.”

"In the past or in regards to me? Have I not done everything I claimed to you and Elijah that day in the cemetery?" Her goal and been to secure her freedom and see Dahlia dead; her evil stopped. Perhaps that latter goal had occurred much more gently than she intended, but still the witch was dead and Freya had her freedom -as did Hope, the curse now ended.

Perhaps she could see past his defenses, the glance inside his head (as Klaus pointed out) giving Freya quite the advantage. More than any witch before her, apart from their dear mother. Even so, his hesitation to approach her, to accept her spoke volumes. Freya likely should enjoy this time while she could, it may never occur again.

The witch's blue eyes followed his gaze skyward, searching the sky for that faint hint of light that would signal lightning following the thunder. His next words surprised her, he found her fascinating like a project to be observed, recorded and tested. But, a thousand year old witch wasn't something one came across every day, even an Original.

Her eyes met his again in question, "Owe you? Should such an act of kindness, not instead be a future repayment in and of itself? You'll need me to train Hope, to guide her." Dahlia had shown him the devastation the magic coursing through her could cause if left unchecked, allowed to run rampant; not to mention the werewolf curse that also lay in her blood. "Should we not then, move forward with the understanding that we are equal, brother?"

“You’ve not strayed from your word so far, I’ll give you that.” There’s no denying that in the beginning of this all, his desire had been for Freya to do just that, and prove herself as an enemy, not a sibling long lost. Enemies he knew how to deal with. Could look at them in a cold and calculated light. She though, slowly and steadily, shattering that illusion. A witch, yes. With issues still between them. Mikael’s death at his hands still so fresh. But not an enemy.

And an absolute necessity in Hope’s light. For that alone, he would have done what was necessary in order to gain her cooperation, but it’s no longer about necessity, delving into what he actually wants. His curiosity towards her wouldn’t be dissipating anytime soon; only growing, for various reasons. “So, your argument is that I should simply do this out of the kindness of my black heart. From another it wouldn’t be nearly as compelling.” She’s seen his cruelty; they both know as much, though it’s been limited exposure, still enough time from being forever painted as a monster within her mind.

“Equals.” The word felt almost foreign on his tongue; Klaus saw himself as the hybrid, as not having an equal and yet...she’s right. Not everything came down to sheer power; even when Freya had that in spades. “Come closer then,” a daunting proposition, considering the fate that befell most who choose to invade his personal space. It isn’t really an invasion when he’s the one offering an invitation, is it?

Another step, towards her. He did notice a cabin during their trek; one he has no problem with claiming as their own when the storm does break open. That’s then, though. “Show me that my kindness will be appreciated and it’s yours.”

"And so it shall continue." She countered, there was another vow said to him that day, reluctant as Klaus was to believe it. Distrust and paranoia a more familiar and therefore trustworthy friend than truth. Did he remember it? That when she spoke to him -even then- it would be the truth. "As I told you both that very day." First proven when Klaus broke her neck to test her claim of immortality and again, when Freya revealed the loss that above all, was her driving force to destroy their aunt. The loss of that which she cherished most, her son.

That thought of course, bringing her mind to Hope. In how easily her fate could have aligned to that of Freya's own. Their "shared plight of a child" as Klaus had once called it, bound them together in a way the others would never understand. For both were capable of creating the ultimate weakness against them; short of a new and mortal body, the others had lost that chance a thousand years ago.

"Yes." she answered simply to his reasoning. Both in regards to the argument at hand and their status among one another. The witch sighed again, truly he was no threat to her and trust could only happen if both sides committed to it. Shifting her feet slightly she rocks into a standing position, closing the gap between them in a few small strides. "Satisfied?" she practically purrs, "or do you require yet more of me?"

“It seems you’ve still plenty to learn about me, sister.” The closeness is a double edged sword; he baited her for it, a challenge issued, yet he’s the one that now wants to back away. Stubbornness, a Mikaelson family trait, will never allow that. It’s easier to look at this as a game between them; the alternative would be enough to create a tightness in his stomach. Freya will somehow see him as weak, make him weak, for allowing her to slip past those carefully crafted defenses and get closer to him than he lets most. That the motion may be entirely silly doesn’t really matter; he refuses to falter, looking down at her, the smirk more forced than it had been only a second ago. “Or you would know I always require more.”

Hand raising, fingertips brushing across her cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind one hear, a nod of approval precedes his words. “And that I’m rarely satisfied.” The crackling of the fire in the background barely registers. Only a brief moment of hesitation; brief but noticeable. After it passes, his arm slips around her slender waist, pulling Freya towards him. Something that feels both wrong and right at once. He doesn’t do this; there’s a difference between the physicality of sex and actual intimacy like this. She’s warm; it’s a trait they both share, and something their siblings lack.

“Frightened yet?” Because it’s easier to make jest of it; and pretend as if she’s in some kind of real peril just from being within his vicinity. That’s the image that he’s carefully crafted over the centuries and one that’s only increased since the curse was broken. His hand rests on the small of her back, a slight pressure, but nothing more than that. “Letting yourself get so close to a beast.”

The witch's eyes lit again at his response, Do tell, brother, they beckoned. Even now he would not make this easy; doubting her at every turn. Or rather, doubting in the trust that for centuries Elijah and Rebekah had begged him to accept. That family, truly was the only strength one needed at their side. After a thousand years, the siblings -respectively- now held bonds that were ten times what any normal human's would ever hope to be.

Even Freya, new as she was to the fold directly, had known of at least Finn and Elijah growing up. Dahlia later revealing the line had continued to expand when she sensed the loss of power from their vampire transformations. The night of that event, Freya's heart had ripped open yet again. For the loss of never knowing them, of the people they would come to be, but also thankful, that another witch of their line would not suffer as she had.

Her lips quirk ever so as he hesitates, answering as his hand finds her back, "It must be yet another family trait, lack of satisfaction. All these centuries, and yet...none of us can truly be still." For always a threat seemed looming; most often from within their own line. Happiness and peace little more than dreams for the Mikaelsons, usually by Klaus's own schemes. Even so, she follows his non-verbal prompt, stepping forward to curl her body into his and allowing their respective body heat to blend into the other.

"No." Her answer is a warm whisper across his skin, eyes scanning his features as it passes her lips. As cruel as he can be, as dangerous as his past actions are, her power is just as great. "For if I'm the...beauty in this game of ours...remember this, Niklaus. Every rose has its thorns."

Being content is something he’s rarely if ever experiencing during the long years of his life; usually because of his own machinations and schemes, truth be told. There’s always another enemy awaiting; always something he wants more. Placated with what he has would never be a given. “Perhaps,” any form of agreement is a small miracle in and of itself, though it seems to be coming easier, as far as Freya is concerned. “Or you’ve simply yet to find what’s capable of satisfying you.” An undertone of sexual teasing in his tone? It certainly wasn’t beyond him; and trying to make her feel even a fraction of the discomfort he did was a worthy cause in Klaus’ mind.

Now that she is close it’s more pleasant than he would be willing to admit aloud. The arm wrapped around her is both possessive and protective at once. “Is that so?” The warmth of her breath lightly tickling his skin when she spoke. Absolutely the beauty. Easing some of the tension and created a different kind. “Unfortunately, it seems I prefer the ones with thorns.” An understatement, considering his history, yet something he didn’t have any real interest in doubting either.

“There is a different.” Arm remaining around her, he slips his other hand into the locks of her hair, fingertips lightly threading through it. A surprisingly gentle action. “This beast...as everyone will surely tell you I am.” An image he’s fostered for such a long time. It’s a shield against those that would stand against him as much as it is anything else. “Takes what he wants, regardless of consequence.” For better or for worse; mostly the latter. Part of it can be attributed to the wolf blood in his veins...really it’s just Klaus’ way, long before the curse was broken.

Leaning his head back slightly, just enough to allow him to look down at Freya, his eyebrow quirks. “Whatever I want.” A pause, as if to let those words sink it. “Does that make you reconsider your position?”

The blonde smirks, actually showing a bit of teeth; not missing the undertone. Try as he might, it didn't bother her...just then anyway. "Perhaps." Freya mimics back in answer. Was this his way of offering? What was it said about men, always wanting that which they couldn't have? Would Klaus now try and control her as he had Rebekah? The constant and sole dependable male; the arm around her waist pointed to yes.

"They survive longer that way." The roses, but also the women involved with any of the Mikaelson men. For each had their their respective demons, all of which reared their heads at the first sign of happiness. "The thorns give them depth, without them...they would be just another flower. Petals in the wind; beautiful, but easily lost, manipulated."

Question lit Freya's eyes at the gentle touch, not sure what to make of it. His heart was as tender as any she'd ever known, but centuries of turmoil and mistrust had surrounded it like barbs. And there came the bite, of taking and claiming, as every alpha wolf was known to do. They however, weren't the only ones...vikings had lived much the same way. Laying claim to the spoils of war and destroying those who opposed them.

And Klaus, much as he hated to admit it, contained both.

Freya exhales, allowing the pause to linger, willing a small spark of power to whisper over her skin. "No." Her answer is whispered but firm.

“You stand a testament to that.” The pattern of sleeping for a century to be allowed one year awakened; leapfrogging through time, that had been survival, he had his doubts over whether Freya would describe it as living. “I doubt, sister, any could look at you and see only another flower.” As close to a compliment as one could expect from Klaus. She was striking; out of place in this world, all the siblings were when he thought about it, just the others had far more time to adjust. A luxury she had only just been given with the defeat of their aunt. “If being pricked by a few thorns is the cost...some might pay it gladly.” The unspoken I would lingering long after his sentence finishes.

Bravery, strength, attributes that he’s come to admire in those who possessed them. And she’s shown an abundance of both. Loath as he was to trust her, to accept her, especially initially, he also couldn’t deny such an obvious thing. It’s easy to feel her power; just a trace, but a reminder that they really are equals. The first drops of rain had begun to fall from the sky. He didn’t immediately move; gaze still focusing on her, the intensity picking up.

“Witch or not,” an intense gaze, slightly predatory, but there’s no genuine malice in it. “Know that if I want to claim you, I will.” The threat would have been a far more sinister one if spoken to someone else. An entirely different implication to the words since they’re for her. Briefly releasing Freya to put the fire out, when he turned back into her, he scoops her up in his arms, cradling her with a certain amount of ease. “I’d rather not spend an unnecessary amount of time in the weather waiting for you to catch up.” The only reason he’s giving for why he has one arm under the bend of her knees and the other across her back.

A blur of speed and movement; closing in on the cabin, he already knows its abandoned, the scent of other inhabitants was no where to be found. Perhaps it isn’t polite the way he forces the door open, caring little about what damage he’s caused, but brute force is a talent of the hybrid’s. Once they’re inside even then he hasn’t started to set her down. “I promised you warmth and shelter. Have I not delivered?” The place was rustic; there would be no heater to be found or anything the like.

She wasn't sure if that first admission should be seen as a compliment, she had been raised to be, the same as her siblings. As much as Dahlia had hated Mikael, they both knew what it meant to be strong. That weakness would only serve to reveal the breaks in the chain that was life. For Esther, that lesson had come at losing Freya, with a swift and stinging reminder a decade or two later at the loss of Henrik. So in that, yes, she would agree with Niklaus that what she'd done for the past thousand years was merely survival not living.

"Time will tell," Freya answered. "Those that have before...the glances were fleeting." Their aunt had made sure of that and after Mathias, Freya had taken over the mantel herself. Never wanting to be hurt like that again. "If they saw me at all."

A fact she's sure could also be said of Niklaus, until Hope, he had insulated himself from every potential weakness -love of his own family included. That unspoken I would in his last comment had her rendered still. That brief glance inside his head when he'd acted as her anchor...as Freya had told him, questionable taste in women. Had she herself -unknowingly- made it onto that list?

Another whisper of power raced across her skin at the sudden realization that yes, she likely had. His accompanying words only confirming as much, why make the claim if he didn't intend to act upon it? For she presented something no other being on this earth could to Niklaus, an equal in power; that alone would have been enough to spark his curiosity and will to claim her before someone else could. Better an ally than an enemy. "Careful brother, I'm not the average witch." And therefore, not as easily claimed.

Before she could say another word, Freya finds herself in Niklaus's arms and moments later inside the darkened cabin. At his question she fires back, "Respectively, yes," For he had provided fire out in the woods and shelter here, but one without the other would not help them. "Or is this your new plan to do so?" The witch tilts her head, seeing as he's yet to release her. If they at least had a fireplace and some wood, even with the rain, Freya could conjure a flame. If they were left with only body heat, well, this night would continue to be a test of wills for both. Toeing the line between a familial embrace and and intimate one.

A different kind of tactic; diving headfirst into territory that he shouldn’t, despite how easy it would be to play this off as nothing more than a game to tests the levels of her uncomfort. The cabin, a far cry from what they’ve come to call home, a heavy scent of wood, offering little in the way of amenities. Not recently lived in, if the dust is an indication. “So little faith,” his tongue makes a tsking sound after the words, Freya supported in his arms, the sky beginning to open up outside and unleash the rain. “To coin a phrase for our brother…” After surveying the front end of the cabin, he begins to walk forward, turning to the right, in the direction of the bedroom. “I intend to keep my word. Fully.”

The simplistic decor seemed to a running theme; a bed, just large enough for two, adorned by a dark oak bedframe and heavy quilt, nothing more than the necessities. “Freya.” Closing in on it, he leans down, setting her on the edge, finally releasing her from his arms. “None of your witchy tricks. Think you can handle that?” A challenge; it would have been easy, given his speed, to collect wood outside before it was completely soaked, and then she could have provided the flame. Niklaus rarely, if ever, did things the easy way.

It’s a particular talent of his; to try to push buttons, get under another’s skin. He’s always take a certain delight in it. This isn’t any different, not really, outside of the fact that she’s unlike any other. “All you have is me.” A slight exaggeration to the truth; all they have is each other, he needs what she can provide just as much as the opposite is true. “A notion that you should start getting used to. I’ll be the constant.” Rebekah could attest to such a thing. Even being aware that she’s not like their other sister, and that he wants this for differing reasons, there’s no regret in saying it.

'With what catch?' Freya retorts mentally to his Elijah-like vow. Unlike their brother, with him there was always a catch. Nothing was ever done without intent, purpose, another move in his giant chess game. Even before, Klaus would not take a simple trade -offering aid now to help Hope later- for what it was.

The blonde swallowed thickly as they entered the bedroom, if she didn't know better she'd think Klaus planned this. Though the extent to what this would actually be, remained to seen. "As long as you refrain from the brutality of yours." Her blue eyes flash as they meet his, two could play this game. "It would only be fair. For this is about trust, is it not, Niklaus?"

A smirk finds it way to Freya's lips, there was his catch. Yes, in this instance they were all the other had, not that they'd likely die tonight without sharing body heat, but if Klaus wanted to push buttons, her next words seemed only appropriate; given her glance inside his head.

"I'm not Rebekah."

“In my experience, trust tends to get one killed,” canting his head, the smile ever present, a hint of joy, mixing perfectly with the danger. “As you wish. My very best behavior.” An interesting exercise to establish just how the dynamic of the night would go. Planning ahead represented a way of life for him; whether this cabin was the larger part of one of his schemes, keeping her guessing was much more satisfying than merely saying so. Easy to look at Freya, the doe eyes, and think of her as naive and innocent, a woman out of time. The way her lips curled hinting at something deeper keeps him from being swayed.

The last of what she says momentarily stuns him; a verbal jab precisely aimed, slipping through his defenses, leaving Klaus to stare, lips pressing together, breath releasing slowly. I’m not Rebekah. Stating such is fair play considering the glimpse given into his head; the inner workings of his mind, and able to see the way that he’s treated their sister over the centuries. Composure returning, a step towards the bed, closer to her, staring down now.

“No, you’re not.” A decided calm to the tone of his voice; deception or genuine, cowing that line has become his favorite. “Truthfully, I’m grateful.” Like that, the blink of an eye, he comes at her, movement blurring from the speed, though his word is kept, it isn’t a display of brutality. Outside of attempt to push her flat on her back, the bed underneath, him lingering over the top of Freya, there’s no attempt to touch her or cause even a moment’s harm. Instead he’s simply close; looking down with intensity burning behind his eyes.

Anger? He’s certainly prone to fits of rage; no, a different emotion. A point to prove. Hand raising, Klaus’ thumb brushes over her left cheek, remaining where he had been, separation between them severely lacking. “You’re something else entirely, but still….mine.”

Freya quirks a brow to his statement, even as he planned ahead so was she. Wolves and witches had been allies for centuries, both part of nature and in that she wanted to end this power struggle between them. But on the other hand, as part vampire Klaus was an abomination to everything nature stood for. 'Am I any better?' Freya mused directly after, leapfrogging through time as she had both Freya and Dahlia were creatures against nature themselves; paying for their immortality in sleep rather than blood.

Grateful? To what degree Freya wonders...was she just another game for him, a conquest that once won would lose its appeal? To believe otherwise would be foolish on her part and Freya knew it. Moments later she found herself on her back with the wind momentarily knocked out of her. Taking cautious breaths, her blue eyes scan Klaus'; trying to determine the layers within that heated gaze.

Something clicked in Freya at those words, at Niklaus claiming her as his, a realization of sorts. As much as this was about power with him the fear of losing them all was still there. For she, Rebekah and perhaps even Elijah were the only ones capable of never abandoning him. As much as he claimed to be their constant, the opposite was also true. Women would come and go, bring brief joy, pain and then die, but they would not.

With one leg bent slightly from how she'd fallen onto the bed, the witch made a split decision and wrapped said leg around his hip. Using the small bit of leverage between them to do the same with the other.

"Always and forever," for their shared blood allowed them that much and so she would make the same vow the other two had.

A rash decision; this choice to eliminate the space between them, skipping stages of the game, straight into parts that matter most. How long could he continue chalking it up to that? A game. The beast inside enjoys a hunt; the back and forth of it, power plays, yet this is anything but superficial. She’s more than a momentary mate to be discarded once interest wanes. The sibling he never knew; a powerful witch, Hope’s tutor, and...something else. Undefined. Entrancing, to him. Freya. Already underneath his skin. Her breathing, short, controlled, even uncertain.

“Always and forever.” Mirroring those words; striking at the root of his problems. Love, always perceived as a weakness, more so when given to the fragile, mortals that could be taken away so easily...circumstances that included his anger and paranoia. She wouldn’t be. Equally as scary would be the thought of her, any of their siblings, scorning him for an eternity instead. Overthinking situations always seemed to be one of his issues. Her legs, hooking around his hips, bringing them all the more close.

A hand on either side of her body, he leans down, briefly allowing his nose to brush against hers. “You should be careful.” Covering her hand with his, Klaus holds it against the thick quilt covering the bed, a strong presence. “Saying such things to me. Others would tell you how dangerous it is.” Crossing lines that should be is an act he’s engaged in for centuries. Freya is different, in a million ways. Treading lightly should have been the preferred approach. He never seems to take that one, however.

“That the only thing worse than being the bastard’s enemy is to be something he cares for.” Lips skimming across Freya’s, not a full kiss, just that light sensation, brief. “Are you prepared for that?”

The further into this they both dove the faster the window to turn back closed; to deny it was more than just a power play. In the recesses of her mind, Freya knew it was wrong, part of the heat and hunger but she also couldn't deny that part of her craved it too. A peace in knowing there was another like her, another to balance her; for Hope was likely to be stronger than them both.

Long lashes briefly flickered down as his nose brushed hers; blue eyes piercing into blue a breath later as Klaus spoke. "I'm not other people," Freya answered back. Slender fingers lacing through his that had pinned her hand, nails digging in ever so. Relations between the remaining siblings were...strained...to put it politely. If this is what it took to ease that, to dull one side of the edged blade, Freya was committed to trying it.

Breath hitching in her throat as his lips brushed hers, Freya swallowed before answering.

"Are you prepared to admit to yourself we've already crossed that line? The very moment I was willing to sacrifice my family once again...to stake you and protect Hope from the same pain we've both known."

From Dahlia, from never knowing even an ounce of love or affection. To be used as a pawn again and again, for Dahlia would have demanded Hope's children as well as her power.

More layers than Klaus is willing to admit; more than he’s even realized. She’s a guiding force for Hope, yes. The most important female role to be played in his daughter’s life; an easily understood concept in his mind, she’s the one he wants his child to look towards, not Hayley, nor any other. A difficult pill to swallow in some instances yet still perfectly clear. A family unit; in more ways than one. Thoughts that immediately start to fade when she speaks. Unwavering; even in these close proximities...strength is one of the qualities that attracts him the most.

“Yes,” admissions rarely come from his lips yet he said the word without hesitation at her request. “My doubts about you since the beginning…” Their fingers were intertwined, her nails digging into the back of his hand, a sharp sensation that seemed to have a smirk flashing across his lips. “But you were willing to do whatever it took. It was then that I realized something, little witch.”

And it’s the most telling realization. “You and I. Far more alike than the rest.” Their methods didn’t always need to be in agreement; his cruelty a chief example, but one look into her eyes, he knew what depths she was willing to go to. His mouth finds hers a moment later; lips pressing together, molding against one another, soft and warm.

Klaus doesn’t let it linger for long; a few seconds and then its broken, her taste still fresh, lips tingling with sensation. “Care to know something else I enjoy about you?” His free hand comes to her throat; he isn’t attempting to throttle her, instead his fingertips just lightly brushing across her skin, hovering over Freya’s pulse point. “My bite isn’t lethal.”

Though she has the power to unleash untold devastation, Freya prides herself on the fact that like Elijah and even Niklaus to a degree, strength doesn't have to be about raw power. In oppressing others with tangible magic or physical prowess...but in the character of a person. Through darkness she had emerged -changed- but stronger and accepting. As she told Finn upon her return, sometimes you had to let things die so that others could live; to delve within the grey of the world and make no apologies for it. A rare trait the two now intertwined siblings shared in spades. Ironic, given Mikael's hatred of one and devotion to the other.

Freya exhaled in triumph at his admission. Heat ghosting across her skin, knowing how rare it was. Perhaps as he'd implied once this evening however, that fact remained because the wrong questions were being asked of him. "Tell me," she practically purrs, what was this new discovery Klaus had realized?

Her blue eyes sparkled at his answer. 'Why do you think we're at odds so often?' they practically beckoned. She hadn't realized it immediately, only after the meeting at the compound in an effort to suppress Eva; it was hard to win Klaus's trust because they were too much alike.

Once again Freya's breath caught in her throat as he kissed her, the blonde biting back an initial hum. Of what she couldn't be sure: surprise, acceptance, longing? All were essentially worst than the last to admit and close as they already were, she refused to arch into him.

Then just as quickly, the sensation is gone and Klaus is speaking again, Freya's pulse jumping as his hand traces across her neck. Her blue eyes are watching him carefully. "And here I thought that would be a point against me." Another lost opportunity for control, to render her temporarily immobile as he had their siblings with that little trick.

BODY HEAT.

Freya Mikaelson || The Originals

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