❝It's not our job to toughen our children up to face a cruel and heartless world. It's our job to raise children who will make the world a little less cruel and heartless.❞
—L.R. Knost

A/N

Big big chappy ahead of you, don't expect this all the time, I was feeling generous xx

⊳⊳|⊲⊲

Klaus exited his bedroom and moved slowly downstairs, still a little tired and perplexed by his dream. She was haunting his head. She was in his dreams, but that hadn't felt like a dream. 

He wandered into the kitchen, but paused as a scent filled his nose.

Spinning, the hybrid scowled at the sight of the blonde perched in a seat at the breakfast table. Her hair was braided and she was wearing black pajama pants and a sports bra. "Good morning, roomie," Roxanne smiled, tilting her head.

He growled in response, stalking up to her carefully and placed his hands on the table. "What are you doing in my house, love?"

He had been planning on killing her this afternoon, but it seemed those plans may have just been upped to right bloody now. His anger rolled over his muscles as he restrained himself from tearing her heart out of her chest. 

Roxanne laughed and tilted her head, rolling her eyes. "You haven't heard? Rebekah offered me a room here. We're roommates!" She smiled widely, her eyes bright and mischievous.

Klaus stared at her and pressed his lips firmly together. "That's not a bright idea. You've brought my family's wrath upon you by doing what you've done. You're moving into the lion's den." His head tilted, spitting each word out like venom. 

She raised an eyebrow and rose out of her seat, walking around him to the kitchen counter. "Awfully rude thing to say to someone that made you coffee, Niklaus," she remarked casually, grabbing the coffee pot and a mug, before pouring some in. The cream was already on the counter. A dash of cream and two sugars. How did she know?

Klaus watched her silently, his face tense and stern. "You're not living here."

She placed the mug on the island and crossed her arms, leaning back against the counter. "Really? Tell that to the bedroom upstairs with my things in it." Her eyes were wide and her eyebrows lifting. "You can't kick me out. I have your sister's permission and I already checked out of my hotel." She looked so goddamn cheeky, he wanted to cut that smile off her face and feed it to her. He wanted to tear out her intestines and wrap them around her beautiful throat. 

The hybrid gritted his teeth and walked to the counter, leaning against it on his palms. "I will drag you out by your ear, mortal." His fingers flexed and he spoke the words quietly and coldly, staring into her bright eyes. 

"I fucking dare you, hybrid," she replied in a hiss, gray eyes flashing.

A spark of respect flew through his chest but was quickly extinguished by his rising rage. "This is my house. I built it. I paid for it. I bought the land it sits on. Rebekah does not decide who stays here, I do. I built this for my family, which you are not. Leave now, St. Claire, before I tear your heart from your weak chest." His fingers twitched, itching to plunge into the warm, bloody mass of her chest and feel the familiar feeling of a heart beating in his fist before he yanked it out. He wanted to see her body fall to the floor, pale as she breathed her last breath. The quiet death rattle that would follow. 

She slowly walked around the counter, again, her chin tilted up and her gray eyes narrowed. She rested her index finger against his chest and smiled. "No. If you try, you will end up with every single bone in your body broken. Do not test me, Mikaelson." She had this wicked look on her stunning features, and she reminded him vaguely of some cross of a Disney princess and a Disney villain. Maybe a lovechild of the two. Her stunning, Rapunzel-type features mixed with her cold demeanor would usually be the type of thing he was attracted to. Sadly, she had eviscerated any of those thoughts with challenging him and his family and becoming a threat to them. 

"This is your last warning. Get out of my house," Klaus spoke, wanting to forcefully drag her from the house and throw her into the yard. She watched him with a mix of amusement and disgust clear across her face. 

Before Niklaus could make do on his promise, Elijah was in the room, yanking him away from her.

"Relax, brother. This is for the best, she'll be easier to watch this way." The elder Mikaelson held Klaus's shoulders, keeping him planted as he created a wide space between the two blondes. 

The hybrid growled at the assertion of control that his brother was bringing, but relaxed anyway. Roxanne was smiling, her gray eyes alight with victory.

"See, Nik," she mocked, "I'm here to stay."

⊳⊳|⊲⊲

Roxanne sat on the couch and watched him draw. He was brooding, he'd always brooded. He looked different than the last time she'd seen him. It had been nearly fifteen years, but he wouldn't remember that. He wouldn't remember any of the times. He looked almost the same, but still different. His hair had been a bit longer then, but not past his ears. Just grown out.

He'd been different, too. Impatient, but also wily. Happy.

⊳⊳|⊲⊲

Dallas, Texas, 1997

Niklaus walked into the cafe with a vampire he knew named Marcus. Marcus cracked a joke that caused the hybrid to laugh, an action that drew the attention of everyone. They walked up to the counter to order from the barista. A beautiful blonde with gray eyes who was staring at Niklaus in utter confusion and wonder. But there was also a certain amount of agony present on her face.

He grinned and leaned on the counter, saying, "I'd love a coffee, dash of cream and two sugars," before his eyes darted to the nametag on her chest, "thanks, Roxie," the hybrid winked. Her gaze was drawn downwards momentarily.

The girl's entire body tensed and he could see something flash in her eyes. A look of pain. She smiled a fake smile and nodded before grabbing their food and handing it to them. When her fingertips brushed Niklaus's, his tattoo began to tingle and he stared at her. He knew her, somehow, but he was certain he knew her.

When Marcus left, the hybrid waited for the girl's shift to end. When she left the cafe, he grabbed her attention, his gaze locking on hers. His hands were in his pockets and he was leaning against the wall outside. His shifted his shoulders in his leather jacket, and tilted his chin upwards as she hesitated at the sight of him. The girl planted her hands on her hips, staring at him quietly, waiting for him to speak. 

"Who are you?" His heart pulled towards her, he needed to be near her.

"I'm Roxie Claire, who are you?" Her voice quavered slightly but she stayed strong, studying him when a brunet man suddenly came out of nowhere and slung his arm around her. He was tall, decently fit and had an easy-going energy to him. He smelled like a werewolf. 

"Hey, Rox," the man hummed, before his gaze met the Original's. He immediately tensed up, and Klaus felt curiosity alongside annoyance bubbling in his chest. The two looked cozy. 

"Klaus Mikaelson, pleasure," the Mikaelson answered the girl's earlier question as he observed the two. They were comfortable in each others' presences, but from her body language he had a feeling they weren't dating. She wasn't leaning into the man as much, she was stiff and away. Her eyes were focused fully on Klaus and she wet her lips quickly, tugging on her apron in a quiet nervousness. She seemed incredibly unprepared to be in this situation, like she hadn't been expecting it. 

Like someone who was put on a stage and didn't know the lines. 

"The pleasure is all mine, Mr. Mikaelson. I hope to see you again," the girl smiled kindly at him before the two walked away and Nik was forced to watch the girl he had unknowingly loved for a thousand years go. 

⊳⊳|⊲⊲

Klaus had, annoyedly, taken the coffee Roxanne had made him, and was now sipping it with an angry look on his face as he drew. He placed it on the coffee table, not bothering to look at her. However, just as he put it down, his sister vamped into the room and grabbed it before leaving.

Klaus groaned and stood, tossing his sketchbook aside. "Rebekah!" He called, going after her.

Roxanne watched with an amused smile twisting her lips, before she felt a presence at her side. She sucked in a breath and rolled her gray eyes as she knew exactly who had decided to 'brighten' her day. 

"Hello, roomie," Kol grinned, tilting his head to the side and smiling widely. Roxanne groaned and fell backwards against the couch cushions, her eyes shutting. She felt a headache start to come on and her index and middle fingers lifted to her temples, beginning to gently rub and try to coax the pain away. The youngest male Mikaelson had a habit of causing migraines. 

Fuck's sake. 

His eyes flitted over her, and she felt his gaze run quickly up and down her languid form. Like he was observing a feast. A frown twisted her pouty mouth downwards. "I know your secret," Kol taunted, smirking at her with bright eyes. She stared at him deadpan, narrowing her gray eyes and pursed her lips doubtfully. 

"Which secret? You mean the one where I think Elijah is the handsomest of the Mikaelson brothers? Oh, yeah, everyone knows that, it's not much of a secret," she scoffed, standing up and stretching. She stalked across the room, as if to leave, but Kol called after her. 

"No, I know that this isn't the first time you've lived with us Mikaelsons. You used to know Niklaus."

Roxanne froze and turned, looking at him with a big eyed, confused look on her face. Her cold demeanor had transformed into sweet and innocent in half a second. Where all the ice had been, was soft, confused innocence. "When?" She resembled a doe, her lips parted and eyes big and soft, vexation clear as the morning sky in her gray eyes. Her eyebrows were knitted together and she fluttered her fingers, walking to Klaus's sketchbook. 

"The 1780s, when he, Rebekah and Elijah stayed with Marie Antoinette for a time and I came to visit, you were her hand maid." Kol watched the girl as she studied him with those playful blue eyes. She puckered her lips and stared at him blankly, as if he were crazy. The girl settled into the armchair the hybrid had been occupying before, lifting up the leather sketchbook and began to idly flip through it. 

"Do I look like I'm 230 years old, Kol?" She remarked casually, flipping a few pages and examining some sketches. She lifted a hand, casually motioning over her long body, not bothering to look up at him. "No wrinkles or age marks. I'm not an old lady, kiddo."

Kol's gaze followed her hand, his tongue trailing casually over his bottom lip. He quickly shook his head and scowled, looking up at her with annoyance for distracting him. "No, but immortals have this uncanny ability of not seeming the age they are truly."

"I'm not 230 years old, Kol," the girl laughed casually. She had this vexing ability to make everything seem perfectly alright. "And I wasn't the Queen's handmaid," she added as an afterthought, lifting her sun-like face to examine the youngest Mikaelson. She finally tossed the sketchbook aside and stood, offering a pale hand to him. "Do you want to dance?" The radio in the corner had been playing the entire time, but it was soft and not something they could dance to.

Kol's face turned to a mask of confusion, a slight smile playing on his lips. "There's no dance music." She could tell he would dance without the music, though. Her eyes moved to the radio for a second before looking back at him. 

Roxanne cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips. "Isn't there?"

The music started, it was Ed Sheeran's 'Give Me Love'. Kol chuckled softly, clearly unsure of exactly how the blonde had known the radio in the corner would play that song. He placed his left hand on her lower back and took her left in his right. She rested her right hand on his shoulder, letting the Mikaelson lead. Kol laughed, twirling them around the room. 

Kol was a good dancer, he was confident in his step and she didn't worry that he might break her toes even once. But, an immortal should always know how to dance. Especially the waltz. She let him hold her gently, let him believe that he was the one in control, and let him think that he was winning this stupid game. She held onto him like the damsel he wanted her to be, and she let him spin her like the little human girl she was in his eyes. 

He twirled her out and she giggled as he pulled her quickly back in, his hand catching her hip easily. She felt happy, and a part of her wished she wasn't leaving so soon. This dance was going to cement something she needed cemented in his brain. In all of their brains. That she was just a happy, innocent girl who liked to dance and just happened to know a few things. That she was no threat, and then she'd be able to leave. 

As they turned again, she caught sight of Klaus in the doorway. He was watching silently, his arms crossed over his chest and an unamused look clear on his stern features. Roxanne winked at him and when Kol twirled her out next, the hybrid caught her. 

He held her carefully, catching her without even thinking. Kol quickly evacuated the room as the two blondes began to dance around the room. This felt more natural. Smoother, but also colder. Where Roxanne had been having fun with Kol, it felt like all the warmth seeped out of the room with Klaus. 

No wonder Kol immediately left. 

The hybrid spun them quickly around, his eyes intense and like shards of ice. "What are you doing in Mystic Falls, Roxanne?" His hands were tight, his gaze held her like a vice more than his grip ever could. Her hair whisked in a fan behind her, and she gripped his shoulder with nimble fingers. Where their hands were interlocked, she felt her pulse pound beneath her skin. 

She drew close to him and then pulled away as he twirled her. She landed back in his arms quickly, however. There was no comfort. She saw the danger hiding beneath his gaze, the killer that sat below the refined surface. He was not falling for the act that Kol was. Where Kol had felt like soft, warm gold, Klaus felt like freezing, sharp silver. It felt like they had been descended into a freezer as she met his gaze. 

"I'm here to protect you, Niklaus," she replied, letting him lead them around the room. The music crescendoed. It had changed to a classical piece. Mozart. 

His very essence felt like thorns, to her. The spat from this morning rose in her mind. That look she had seen in his bright eyes, that homicidal need that had been pouring from him in the kitchen. It wasn't gone now, just more reserved. She still saw it hinted in his gaze. 

He scoffed, dipping her. "Protect me? From what?" He twirled her out, her breath left her lungs as the room began to spin faster. She felt the wintry strength of him again as she returned to his arms. It felt the same as returning to the comfort of a blizzard. There was no comfort in a blizzard. 

Roxanne let them lap the room once more before responding. She felt out of breath with their fast-paced movements. He was strong. "From her." Her feet were spinning faster across the floor, she could barely keep up with them. 

"'Her' who, little dove?" He snarled, and she froze in place at the name. The name she hadn't heard in many, many years. Her eyes met his, and she felt like she was going to throw up as she saw them. 

The music stopped and so did they. Her gray eyes searching his face, looking for recognition. There was none. Just confusion, distrust and anger. No love. It was a coincidence. A painful coincidence. His subconscious had thrown it out there, across the deep abyss that marked the difference between what he remembered and what his mind just knew, but he did not. Somehow, his conscious mind had caught it in nimble fingers and used it. Somehow, here she stood staring at him as he said the name she could never forget coming from his lips. Sliding off his velvety tongue. 

She sucked in a breath, trying to ignore the flood of memories that were just on the other side of the door labelled 'Nik' in her mind. A door she rarely opened. A door that had been padlocked, chained and bolted and locked behind five more doors with similar locks. A door she was absolutely terrified of thinking about because it was paralyzing. 

"The one you fear," Roxanne finally murmured, tilting her head and studying him quietly. "The one you've never found." She had to use nearly all her strength to keep her voice steady, her hands still gripped him, his fingers dug into her spine and the back of her hand. 

He studied her face, before she saw something click in his brain. "She's never bothered me before." His chin was tilted up, that angry arrogance so clear on his immortal face. His narcissism was peering out in varying shades of scarlet. It dripped like venom off his words. 

Roxanne nodded, looking around the room as she felt guilt pour into her chest like melted glass. Hot and painful and sharp. "You've unlocked a part of yourself. She doesn't care that you have, but she cares who you might hurt now that you have. The army you intend to create." 

"Hybrids?" 

Roxanne said nothing, just staring quietly at him. He was so ignorant of the real world. He knew so little of the true vast ocean of the supernatural world. He'd never cared enough to venture that far into it. The Mikaelsons' existence had always been surrounded by witches, vampires and their type of werewolves. They didn't even bother searching for anything else. They didn't think about anything else. 

Roxanne felt that that was good, but it was also dangerous. For them, as immortals, to live in a world they know so little about. She felt bad for them, they were like toddlers who had yet to learn what Death really was.  

"I've made my hybrids. She can bugger off."

Roxanne still said nothing, her gray eyes squeezing shut as she swallowed briefly. "She's dangerous, Niklaus. I'm-" 

"You're what?" He demanded, his hands moving away from her. He watched her fiercely, waiting for whatever it was the blonde had to say. "Who the hell are you?" He crossed his arms, stepping backwards with fire clear across his face. Sometimes he reminded her of a living, dancing flame. But, usually, that was held behind thousand foot tall walls that were meters thick. 

Roxanne sighed, digging her nails into her skull. "I'm the only one that can stop her, Nik! She's dangerous, and you're threatening people that are very important to her-" 

Klaus scoffed, backing up slightly as he looked her up and down. "You can stop her? You mortal? The Ghostess is at least a thousand years old. Nobody knows her age. She is an immortal of unknown species, known for the murder of thousands. A psychopath and monster at its finest. But you, a Goth Barbie reject, think you can stop her?" He pressed his lips together and chuckled. "I'd like to see her come, actually. I'd love to finally meet her." 

Roxanne rolled her eyes at the insults, her head pounding slightly. God, Niklaus. "I've known her for a very long time. I don't want her to make any regretful mistakes, so I am here to protect you from her." He was so obnoxious, it pained her sometimes to have to deal with this. She wanted to violently shake the arrogance out of him. 

"Why would killing me be a mistake for her? Besides the fact that she can't," he remarked, rolling his eyes, "I am immortal." 

Roxanne stared at him. "You're so fucking daft, aren't you?" Her brilliant gray eyes looked him up and down, trying to examine every inch of him to see where the intelligence she knew he had must be stored. Because, clearly, it wasn't in his head. 

"Insulting me now, love? Way to win points," growling, the hybrid walked to the bourbon on the shelf. "Explain. Explain why you're protecting me? Why she wants to kill me and what exactly I've done to hurt her?" He waved his hand, ordering her like a common servant. She wanted to rip his tongue out and feed it to him, but all she did was twitch her fingers and cross her arms. 

That was too much to explain. He would never understand. "I can't explain. I really can't. She is simply protecting what is hers. You threaten that." Roxanne's lip curled, and even those words felt like too much. 

Klaus studied her quietly as he sipped his alcohol. She could see the gears churning in his head. "You know her? The Ghostess? You've met her?" His words were clipped and careful, his eyebrows raising slightly over his glass. He settled on his armchair, crossing his legs and looking up at her. 

Roxanne nodded, going to sit on the couch. "I have. She's one of my closest friends." 

"Yet you betray her to protect me. Why?" He rested his alcohol on his slouched chest, a cocky smile playing on his stunning features. His maybelline red lips were pulled upwards, curling at the ends and she wanted to slap it off his face. 

Roxanne rolled her eyes at his arrogance. "I never said I'm betraying her. I'm protecting her." The blonde dragged a careless hand through her blonde locks, flicking the loose hairs off with her fingers onto the rug. She scowled at him. 

"From me," he finished, and took another sip of the amber liquid that swished in the crystal glass. "Because you know I'll kill her." 

Roxanne shook her head, groaning internally at him. "No. You can't kill her. I'm protecting her sanity."  

He looked confused, and he lounged backwards and watched her. Waiting for her next words, her explanation of what she meant. The angelic girl looked the Devil in the eyes and scoffed. "You really are the stupidest person, aren't you, Niklaus Mikaelson?" 

In a moment, he was across the room and his hand was wrapped around her porcelain throat, squeezing nearly to the point of cutting off her air supply. Rage ran down his arms and flickered in his eyes, hatred pouring off him as he stared her down. She tilted her chin up, her eyes cold. 

"Watch your tongue." Roxanne stuck it out at him, not even flinching as his fingers tightened slightly before letting go and he scoffed. Standing there. This ludicrous look on his face as if he had no idea what to do with her. "Just answer the question, love."

Roxanne looked stared straight into those chips of blue ice and fire and metal. The eyes that reminded her of an Arctic winter. There was nothing there that used to be. It was her own fault, but, God, it hurt. "She's . . . she would be making a mistake if she killed you, because . . ." Roxanne trailed off and looked dramatically down at her jeans. She tugged on the ripped, black fabric. Her heart pounded in her chest, and she began to softly pout her lips and act very uncertain. She needed to draw this out, make him feel like he was really forcing it out of her. "Because she's in-love with you," she finally murmured. 

God, this would inflate his ego. 

Niklaus's eyebrows shot up, and he stared at her open-mouthed. "The Ghostess? I don't understand, I've never even-" 

He blanked, and she could tell he was running through a list of all his lovers over the years. Which of them could be the famed murderess, but he drew a blank. Of course he did. Roxanne's chin tilted upwards, eyes narrowed slightly at him. Her gray eyes were slitted, long lashes fluttering slightly with the effort. He was an idiot. Probably the biggest she'd ever met in her life. 

"I've never met her," he finished. He also finished his drink after his statement. He had slowly begun to pace the room, something he often did when he was thinking, or mad. Right now he was both and it slipped off him in waves. It had soured the entire vibe of the whole room and Roxanne felt like there really needed to be some sage burned. Like, a mountain of sage burned. 

The blonde nodded and chewed on the inside of her cheek. "There are many different perspectives of time. That's why it's important for historians to have multiple primary sources of an event. Sometimes the way that one saw history . . . is not how it actually happened," She muttered and stood up slowly. Klaus was watching her like a cat. 

The St. Claire girl licked her lips and smiled painfully at him. "If I could not be here, I would. I don't want to sit here and protect an arrogant hybrid who cares not for my protection. But, I know what she's capable of and I don't want her to regret this for the rest of her eternal life. Because, she will. It will haunt her until the day the world burns to ash." 

Until Heaven and Hell collides and there is nothing left. 

Roxanne left the room and could feel his gaze. Feel his hatred and confusion and anger.  

Edited

May 27th, 2020

Rewritten

March 22nd, 2023 / April 02nd, 2023