CHAPTER THIRTY

(act iv)

THE PAST BITES AND HEALS

'the end of the affair and disturbing behaviour'

"April, 1922. Lexi found me last night. Dragged me off the train tracks. Thinks she can make me care again. June, 1924. Lexi's driving me crazy. More animal blood, moe misery. 1935. Cravings are there, but it's easier. Lexi's on to her next project: getting me to laugh." -- Stefan Salvatore's Dairy Entries

The night was thick with tension and unspoken words as the group made their way to a nearby hotel, the kind of place that had just the right amount of class without being ostentatious. A far cry from the chaos they'd left behind, but somehow it still felt like a place for secrets.

The reception desk was quick, no questions asked as they secured their rooms. Three separate apartment rooms—Stefan and Ray, Jeremy with Klaus, and Anastasia with Alaric. The latter caused a stir but with a look from Ana, the others quieted down.

Once inside their room, Ana moved to the bathroom, eager for the refreshing warmth of water to wash away the weight of the day. She closed the door behind her with a soft click and slipped off her clothes, the cool air meeting her skin before the shower steam enveloped her.

Alaric was still processing everything in the room—his body tense, his mind swirling. It wasn't like him to be unsure, but tonight felt different. After all, he and Ana had been through so much together. And with the whole Isobel situation still heavy in the air, Alaric wasn't exactly feeling carefree.

He paced back and forth for a few moments before sitting down on the bed, running his hands through his hair as the thoughts continued to flood his mind.

A few minutes later, Ana emerged from the bathroom, her body wrapped in a towel. Her wet hair clung to her shoulders, and beads of water traced the curves of her skin, making the already sultry atmosphere even more intense. She didn't notice Alaric sitting at the edge of the bed, lost in his own thoughts, until she stopped short.

For a second, neither of them spoke. The tension that had been building between them, mixed with the weight of the evening's emotions, made everything feel heavier.

"Are you planning to sit there all night?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. There was an edge of playfulness in her voice, even though she could sense the undercurrent of tension in the room.

Alaric looked up, his eyes dark with something unreadable, something raw. He ran a hand over his face and stood up, walking slowly toward her. "You know, I've been thinking a lot about what happened," he began, his voice more serious than usual. "About Isobel, about how I wasn't there when you needed me... all the things I could have done differently."

Ana stepped closer, her towel shifting slightly as she moved. "You've already apologized," she murmured, her gaze softening as she reached out to touch his arm. "You don't need to keep rehashing the past, Ric."

He leaned in closer, just enough that she could feel the heat of his body against hers, but not enough to close the space entirely. "I'm just... processing. Everything's been a mess," he admitted, the vulnerability in his voice stark, raw.

Ana smiled softly, her fingers tracing the edge of his jaw. "I know. But we're here now," she said gently, her eyes locking with his. "And I've missed you. All of you, Ric. All of it."

Her words seemed to hit him in a way he hadn't expected, and the change in him was almost immediate. His eyes shifted, his earlier heaviness fading as a softer expression took its place.

He smirked then, the shift in his demeanor unmistakable. "Enough with the depressing talk," he said, his voice lowering to a sultry tone. "I've missed your body against mine."

Ana's breath hitched slightly at his words. The change was instant, the tension between them morphing into something more palpable, more magnetic. And before she knew what was happening, the towel slipped from her body to the floor with a quiet flutter.

Alaric's gaze flicked over her body, his smile growing as he stepped even closer. "You really know how to drive a man wild," he muttered, his voice rough with desire.

Ana's eyes sparkled with mischief, a small grin playing on her lips as she reached for his shirt, pulling him toward her. "You're not so bad yourself, Alaric."

Their lips met then, slow at first, as if they were savoring the moment—lingering, feeling the warmth of each other's touch, the softness of their kiss. The world outside the room seemed to disappear, and for a moment, all they could focus on was each other.

Alaric deepened the kiss, his hands moving to pull her even closer, his body pressing against hers, as if trying to merge the space between them. Ana wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her level, feeling the electricity spark between them with every passing second.

For that moment, nothing else mattered. No past mistakes, no worries about the future—just the heat of their bodies, the softness of their touch, and the undeniable pull of desire.

It had been four long days of finding any stray werewolves and shoving Klaus's blood down their throat, killing them and feeding them doppelganger blood and adding another Hybrid to the ranks. They had visited two werewolf camps and turned them all and now they were on their way to Chicago for a little vacation as Klaus put it. Most of them first had a choice to make the change and some did want it but Klaus did not take no for an answer.

But Anastasia suspected Klaus was finally ready to make Stefan remember their old life as friends but she was happy to stop being around werewolf mutts and see her old teacher again. Ana wasn't sure of the effects having those memories back would have on Stefan who was balancing the ripper in himself, already.

Sure his cravings had lessened over time since he stopped drinking animal blood and Ana was there to make sure no one died - due to the hard effect guilt had on him. But Klaus was pushing him with the unnecessary killing but Ana was there to bring him back from no point of return and his switch was still on thankfully.

Klaus had stopped the car right out of a familiar bar, which Ana remembered with fond yet gruelling memories of her and Bonnie sneaking out and visiting Gloria and learning new things. She knew she would get into a little trouble for hanging around vampires and an original no doubt.

There was also a black car behind them, full of Klaus's most loyals, Ray among them and he had quickly become Ana's friend, Ana looked past the sire bond and minor compulsion. At her word, he had treated them less like dogs but as comrades, his pack. The rest were wringing up new werewolves to join the pack by choice and and a few were scouting out New Orleans and most of them had gone to Mystic Falls to help start the construction of the Mikaelson Manor.

"Welcome back to Chicago, Stefan." Klaus grins as he claps a confused Stefan on the back while Alaric has his arms around Ana's shoulders and nestled a kiss in her wavy hair. Jeremy passed their now beloved Rudy's leash to one of the Hybrids, Dean who was Jeremy's designated bodyguard since he was still human. They were renting out a cute apartment that was close to the city for a few days and it had a great view of the nightlife.

"What are we doing here?" Stefan groaned at Original Hybrid, they had the hybrids and he wanted to go home but the vacation seemed to be dragging on and on.

"I know how much you loved it here. Bringing back memories of the good old ripper days?" Klaus smirked at him, ignoring his question. He was intent with turning Stefan back into his old Ripper self had been evident over the course of their trip and Stefan wasn't amused. He wanted to leave that life behind, he liked the way he was now and it was all because of Ana.

He glanced over to Alaric and Ana who seemed to be in their own little world, shrugged at Klaus's words and replied, "Blacked out most of them. A lot of blood, a lot of partying. The details are all a blur."

"Well, that is a crying shame. The details are what make it legend...Back then, word was the ripper of Monterrey got lonely, so he escaped to the city for comfort. It was Prohibition. Everything was off limits then, which made everything so much fun. Chicago was magical."

"Yeah, well, I'll take your word for it. Like I said, I don't remember most of it," Stefan responded truthfully, he hadn't a clue on what happened or why Klaus seemed to know him. "Did we know each other?" he asked after a beat of silence, staring at the night sky, the Chicago skyline lighting up.

"Yes" Klaus answered with a fond smile but didn't go into it deeply, he was going to drag it out.

Jeremy walked towards them, slinging his arms around both Klaus and Stefan's shoulders and said, "Why are we here? Don't get me wrong, I love a good vacation but can we go do something fun."

"It'll be fun," is all Klaus said and soon the group of five walked into Gloria's bar and Stefan wasn't the only one reliving the old days. It was as if a movie was playing through Anastisa's head, moments where Bonnie and her would play hide and seek around the bar after a long day of training with Gloria, helping Gloria with the bar and acting as little waitresses.

"Looks familiar, doesn't it?" Klaus asks Stefan who looks around the empty and dim bar and breathes out, "I can't believe this place is still here."

"You've got to be kidding me," Gloria says, walking out of one of the rooms and seeing the new faces in her bar. Klaus lets out a crocked yet cocky smile and tries to make a joke, "So a hybrid walks into a bar, says to the bartender..."

"Stop. You may be invincible, but that doesn't make you funny." Gloria huffs walking closer and smiles at the only girl in the group while Ana fondly smiles at her and reaches around her for a hug. "Gloria, it's been a while. Sorry to barge in uninvited."

"It's fine, little one," she tells the taller woman and she looks over at Stefan, "I remember you."

Stefan's eyebrows furrow as he takes in the old yet powerful witch he used to know, "Yeah. You're Gloria. Shouldn't you be..."

"Old and dead? Now if I die, who's going to run this place, huh?" Gloria muses with a smile while Ana smiles knowingly.

"Gloria's a very powerful witch," Klaus tells him with a smirk.

"I can slow the aging down some. Herbs and spells. But don't worry, it'll catch up to me one day," Gloria tells him and Ana nods in agreement. There weren't many witches who tried to slow the ageing process down due to their near-fanatical belief it was against nature and balance - which they weren't wrong about.

Klaus turned to Stefan and Jer, his tone casual but laced with authority. "Why don't you two fix us something from behind the bar? Something strong." He gave them a crooked smile, the kind that made people feel both at ease and wary. Stefan exchanged a quick glance with Jer, and they both nodded before heading to the bar, leaving Klaus, Gloria, and Ana alone.

As Stefan walked away, Klaus' gaze lingered for a moment longer than necessary. He smirked to himself before turning his attention back to Gloria, who stood watching him with her usual sharp, knowing eyes.

It wasn't long before Alaric joined the group. He wasted no time in grabbing a drink, slipping away toward the bar, leaving Klaus and Gloria locked in conversation.

"You look stunning tonight, Gloria," Klaus said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to suggest his compliment might have a double meaning.

Gloria raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Don't. I know why you're here." She leaned forward slightly, her gaze steady. "A hybrid looking to create more hybrids? That kind of news doesn't stay quiet for long."

Meanwhile, Stefan's attention drifted from the conversation as something on the far wall caught his eye. It was an old photograph, slightly faded but still distinct. He reached for it, pulling it down for a closer look. The sight of it made him freeze.

Klaus noticed Stefan's distraction and followed his line of sight. His smirk deepened when Stefan stepped forward, holding the photo tightly in his hand.

"What is this?" Stefan asked, his voice low but edged with disbelief.
Klaus crossed the room leisurely, taking his time as if to savour Stefan's confusion. "Ah," he said with a playful glint in his eye. "I told you, Stefan—Chicago is a magical place."

Stefan's brow furrowed as he turned the photo toward Klaus. "No. This is me. With you."

The photo was unmistakable: a sepia-toned picture of Stefan, arm draped casually over Klaus' shoulders. Both men looked younger,and vibrant, dressed sharply in 1920s attire, like old friends sharing a moment of camaraderie.

Klaus moved closer, his presence invading Stefan's space just enough to be noticeable. He glanced at the photo, his smirk widening. "Quite the dashing pair we made, don't you think?" His tone was teasing, but there was something warmer beneath it, a flicker of affection that Klaus rarely allowed anyone to see.

Stefan shook his head, his confusion deepening. "I don't remember this. I don't remember you."

Klaus chuckled softly, the sound low and almost intimate. "That's a shame, really. I'd hoped I left more of an impression." He stepped even closer, his voice dropping. "But then again, you always were frustratingly hard to forget."

Stefan swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Klaus' gaze on him, the playful flirtation laced with something darker, something more dangerous.

Later, as the evening unfolded, Klaus and Stefan found themselves walking through a shadowy warehouse. Stefan still clutched the photo, his grip tight as if it might slip away and take his answers with it.

"This doesn't make any sense," Stefan said, breaking the silence. "Why don't I remember you?"

Klaus walked ahead, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. "You said it yourself—there are plenty of gaps in your memory. All those dark, empty holes."

"That doesn't explain why you haven't mentioned this before," Stefan pressed, frustration leaking into his voice. "If you knew me, why keep it to yourself?"

Klaus turned, his expression softer now, though his playful smirk lingered. "Maybe I enjoyed the mystery. Or maybe," he added, stepping closer, "I wanted to see if you'd remember me on your own."

Stefan took a step back, his mind racing. "What the hell is going on, Klaus? Tell me the truth."

Klaus sighed, as if reluctantly conceding. "Let's just say we didn't exactly get off to the best start. Honestly? I hated you."

Stefan blinked, caught off guard. "Your sister... So, I knew another Original vampire?"

Klaus nodded, his expression unreadable. "You knew her quite well, actually. But if you can't handle the truth, Stefan, maybe it's better you don't ask."

He leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. "After all, some things are better left forgotten. Don't you agree?"

Klaus and Stefan had left the bar to go on their little road trip down memory lane, leaving Anastasia alone with Gloria to catch up. The dim light of the bar cast long shadows as Gloria stood behind the counter, casually wiping down a glass. Her sharp eyes followed Ana as she nervously paced nearby, her movements restless and uncharacteristically tense. Gloria tilted her head slightly, her senses catching onto something off—a ripple in the air, a faint but undeniable hum of energy she couldn't quite place.

"Stop pacing," Gloria said finally, her voice smooth and calm but laced with authority. She set the glass down and stepped closer, her gaze narrowing. "You're making me dizzy."

Ana froze mid-step, glancing at Gloria with wide eyes. "Sorry," she mumbled, but her voice trembled slightly, betraying her unease.

Gloria frowned, studying Ana more closely now. There was something different about her, something... off. It wasn't the usual cold stillness of a vampire which was still hard for her to wrap her head around.

She had seen and heard many strange things in her long time as a witch and to see a witch become a vampire and still retain her powers, even make her more powerful was different.
For a witch to become a vampire, the balance between them broke off and they couldn't access their magic, it was akin to torture for a witch but if it would be different for anyone, it would be Anastasia. Her energy was pulsing with power but also something warm, alive, and unfamiliar. Gloria stepped closer, her sharp instincts on high alert.

"Ana," Gloria said slowly, her tone cautious but firm. "There's something... strange about your energy. It's not right."

Ana stiffened, her hands instinctively moving to her abdomen before she quickly crossed her arms, trying to hide the gesture. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice too quick, too defensive.

But Gloria wasn't one to be dismissed. She moved closer still, her eyes narrowing as she focused, her magical senses honing in on the strange, pulsing energy emanating from Ana. And then it hit her like a bolt of lightning.

Her breath caught, and she took a step back, her expression a mix of shock and disbelief. "You're... pregnant," Gloria said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Ana's entire body went rigid, her eyes widening in panic. "What? No" she said quickly, shaking her head. Her voice was shaky, her hands trembling at her sides.

Gloria's eyes darkened, her expression hardening as she folded her arms. "Don't lie to me, Ana. I can feel it. There's life inside you. How is that even possible? You're a vampire."

Ana's lips parted, but no words came out. She took a shaky step back, her mind racing as panic clawed at her chest. "I... I don't know," she lied, her voice breaking. She was over of the moon to find out she was pregnant but there couldn't be a worser time for it to happen now. Her and her loved ones where still at danger, with Esther, Mikael and Daliha to consider if it was in fact Klaus's. Those were just the first obstacles in her path, she didn't want to put herself and her child at risk. She would need to fasten her plans along and get rid of everything before the pregnancy started it's toll.

Gloria's gaze softened slightly, but her tone remained firm. "Well, clearly, something is very wrong—or very unique. Either way, you need to start talking, Ana. How did this happen? Who—"

"Stop," Ana interrupted, her voice rising in desperation. "I don't know, okay? It doesn't matter!" She wrapped her arms around herself, as if trying to protect the fragile, terrifying truth inside her. "I didn't even realize until a few days ago. I thought something was wrong with me—like I was sick or..." She trailed off.

Gloria stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on Ana's shoulder. "Breathe," she said softly, her tone more comforting now. "You're scared, I can see that. But this is happening, Ana. Whether you like it or not."

Ana's eyes filled with tears she didn't let fall. "You don't understand," she whispered. "There's so much danger out there, people I will need to fight off to keep them safe and I don't have time for a baby right now. I want it, of course I do but it shouldn't have happened now."

Gloria sighed, her gaze softening further as she studied Ana's terrified face. "I can't help you with that but you have powerful people on your side, I suggest you use them. Whatever's happening to you is impossible and dangerous. I'm glad you're not taking this lightly, your child could mean a lot of things to different people" she admitted.

Ana looked down, her hands trembling as they hovered over her abdomen. "I don't know if I can do this," she whispered, barely audible.

Gloria squeezed her shoulder gently but firmly. "You don't have a choice," she said, her voice steady. "The question isn't whether you can—it's whether you'll survive it."

Ana's gaze shot up to meet Gloria's, her fear reflected back in the witch's unyielding stare. For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of the situation settling heavily between them.

Klaus' voice broke the stillness first, smooth and tinged with amusement.

"What a charming little homestead," he drawled as he stepped into the dim space. His gaze swept across the room, taking in the heavily dusted room.

Stefan followed him inside, his expression calm but guarded. "It's been vacant for decades. Why'd you bring me here?" he said evenly.

Klaus glanced back at him, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. "Ah, but you know me, Stefan. I'm a man who appreciates history. And this particular little relic? It has a story worth telling." He took a step closer to Stefan, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret. "Your old friend, Liam Grant—the one who drank his wife's blood. I always wondered why you wanted his name."

Klaus' smirk deepened, and he leaned closer to Stefan, their faces nearly level. "And then you let me in on your little secret. It all makes sense now. It was part of your special little ritual, wasn't it?"

Stefan held his ground, his expression tightening. "To write it down," he said, his voice clipped.

"And relive the kill," Klaus finished smoothly, his tone almost teasing. "Over and over again."

He turned abruptly, stepping toward the wall. With a calculated motion, he reached for the hidden door and pulled it open. The old wood creaked as the door swung wide, revealing the secret room. Klaus gestured dramatically. "You believe me now?"

Stefan stepped forward, his sharp gaze flicking to the list on the wall. Stefan's entire body tensed, his mind racing, but he didn't move. The guilt from seeing all the names of the people he killed was creeping in.

Klaus, meanwhile, turned and strolled casually back into the main apartment, as if the discovery was of no consequence.

Stefan finally blinked, his expression snapping back into control. He glanced around the small room and reached for a nearby bottle. He held it up as he stepped back out of the hidden space, carefully masking his emotions. He wasn't going to address Klaus's words, he didn't know how to respond.

"Look what I found," he called out, his voice smooth as he lifted the bottle for Klaus to see.

Klaus glanced over his shoulder, his lips curling into a grin. "Ah, 1918. Single malt." He took the bottle from Stefan's hand, inspecting it with delight.

"My favorite," Klaus said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "Now, let's go find someone worthy to pair it with."

Klaus noticed his hesitation and stepped closer, standing just inches away from him. "What's the matter, Stefan?" he asked, his tone playful yet laced with a flirtatious undertone. He tilted his head, his voice softening as he added, "You seem... distracted."

'Because you're right in my face and it's distracting me from my guilt,' Stefan thought, his heart pumping a little faster. Stefan straightened, brushing off Klaus' insinuation. "Just appreciating your excellent taste in history and whiskey," he replied coolly, stepping past him.

Klaus chuckled, trailing after him. "Ah, you've always known how to play it cool, haven't you? It's one of the things I've always admired about you." He shot Stefan a sidelong glance, his gaze lingering just a little too long. "Well, that and your impeccable ability to keep a secret."

Stefan didn't reply, his jaw tightening as Klaus' words hung in the air. Whatever game Klaus was playing, Stefan knew it was far from over.
Klaus stepped closer to Stefan, his intense gaze locking onto his as though he were peering into Stefan's soul. There was a softness in his expression, but his voice was firm, commanding.

"Now, you remember," Klaus said, his tone smooth and irresistible, as though each word seeped into Stefan's mind like a whispered secret.

A flood of images washed over Stefan, vivid and undeniable. Memories he didn't know he had came rushing back—laughing with Klaus in smoky 1920s speakeasies, sharing bottles of bourbon in dark corners, trading wry jokes and conspiratorial glances like lovers. He saw himself standing beside Klaus, both of them carefree, untouchable, and basking in the thrill of immortality.

Stefan blinked, staggering slightly under the weight of the revelation. His voice was quiet, almost reverent, as he said, "I remember you. We... we were friends.

Klaus' smirk softened into something gentler, almost genuine, as he stepped even closer, leaving barely any space between them. "We are friends," he corrected, his voice low and intimate. "Don't let a little thing like time fool you, Stefan. Some bonds are unbreakable."

Stefan held Klaus' gaze, feeling the gravity of his words, the pull of something old and unshakable between them. It wasn't just the compulsion—it was the truth buried deep in those memories, resurfacing now with startling clarity. He couldn't deny it. He couldn't deny him.

Stefan Salvatore didn't know how to put himself back together anymore. He thought he was finally making progress, clawing his way out of the dark abyss his Ripper side had dragged him into. The endless cycle of bloodlust, guilt, and regret had worn him down, leaving cracks in a soul that was already fragile. But he'd found a glimmer of hope—something, or rather someone, to hold on to. Anastasia had been his angel in the depths of hell, the gentle hand that had helped him mend himself piece by piece.

Sure, Lexi had helped too, like slapping a bandage on a wound too deep to fully heal. She'd tried to keep him tethered to his humanity, to remind him of who he was beyond the carnage. But with Ana, it was different. She didn't just try to save him; she understood him. She didn't judge the monster lurking beneath the surface. If anything, she made him believe, even briefly, that he could coexist with the darkness instead of constantly fighting it.

Then Klaus happened.

Klaus Mikaelson, the Original hybrid with a wicked smile and a voice that made promises Stefan both feared and craved. He had this uncanny ability to unravel Stefan's carefully constructed walls, to pull at the strings of his deepest, most conflicted emotions. And suddenly, Stefan wasn't sure who he was anymore—or whether he wanted to find out.

He had known two Originals, and somehow, he had loved them both. Rebekah was beautiful, powerful, and occasionally charming in her humor, but she was needy, constantly vying for his attention, constantly demanding. And yet, none of that mattered to Stefan because his gaze was always drawn elsewhere—drawn to the piercing, almost hypnotic blue of her brother's eyes.

Klaus never had to fight for Stefan's attention. He commanded it effortlessly, as if Stefan were bound to him by some unseen force. Klaus didn't just hold his gaze; he held him—body, mind, and soul. In Klaus, Stefan found something he never thought he'd have: someone who truly understood him. They shared a bond forged not just from their immortality but from their shared pain, their mutual disdain for the families that had shaped and broken them.

With Klaus, there was no need to pretend. No need to hide the bloodthirsty, sadistic side of himself he'd spent so many years trying to bury. Klaus didn't just accept that side of him; he encouraged it. He watched Stefan in awe, as if the darker Stefan became, the brighter Klaus seemed to shine in admiration.

It wasn't just the memories of those days that haunted him now—it was the way they had been taken from him, ripped away by Klaus' compulsion. The best days of his life erased to protect Klaus and his siblings from their father's wrath. Stefan understood why Klaus had done it; the Mikaelsons had been hunted and tormented enough. But understanding didn't make it hurt any less.

When those memories came flooding back, they hit Stefan like a tidal wave, drowning him in emotions he couldn't control. He remembered the exhilaration of those days, the freedom of being himself without judgment. He remembered the emptiness of the year he spent without those memories, haunted by dreams of vivid blue eyes and soft, pouty lips without even knowing why.

And now, as those memories burned in his mind, Stefan's thoughts were a tangled mess. The feelings were impossible to untangle—lust, guilt, admiration, rage. He hated what Klaus had done to him, but he couldn't deny how much he missed those moments when he didn't have to be the "good guy," when he could lose himself in the blood and the chaos, and Klaus had been there to cheer him on.

Stefan could still feel the warmth of Klaus' gaze on him, like a fire that never went out. He could hear Gloria's soft, melodic voice in the background of those memories, could remember the gentle touch of Rebekah's hand on his skin. But most of all, he felt the weight of Klaus' presence—his power, his intensity, his dangerous allure.

And through it all, Stefan was left wondering: Who was he, really? The remorseful vampire trying to atone for his sins, or the monster Klaus had so easily embraced and celebrated? Could he ever reconcile the two like Anastasia suggested? Or would he forever be caught between them, bound by guilt, blood, and the memory of sparkling blue eyes that seemed to see right through him?

Stefan let out a shaky breath, his hands trembling as he ran them through his hair. He hated Klaus for what he'd done, but he also couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude—for showing him that he didn't have to fight the darkness alone, that even in his worst moments, someone could look at him like he was something extraordinary.

Stefan sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands, trying to process the storm of emotions coursing through him. The memories of Klaus were vivid now, clearer than they had ever been. Every word, every glance, every touch was imprinted on him like a brand he couldn't erase. And the worst part? He wasn't sure he wanted to.
He tried to steady his breathing, but his chest felt tight, as though the weight of his feelings was suffocating him.

How could someone so destructive, so dangerous, hold this much power over him? Klaus had been a hurricane, tearing through his carefully controlled life, leaving chaos in his wake—and yet, in that chaos, Stefan had felt more alive than he had in decades.

It wasn't just lust, though that was undeniably there. Klaus had a magnetic pull, an intensity that drew Stefan in and refused to let go. But it was deeper than that. It was the way Klaus saw him—not as the remorseful, broken man trying to make amends, but as someone whole. Someone who could revel in the darkness and still be worthy of admiration. Klaus didn't flinch from Stefan's worst impulses. He welcomed them, even celebrated them.

Stefan stood abruptly, pacing the room as his thoughts spiraled. He couldn't keep this inside anymore. He couldn't keep pretending that Klaus didn't haunt his every thought. The memories had unlocked something in him—something raw and undeniable—and he needed to confront it.

Before he could talk himself out of it, Stefan left his room and made his way to Klaus' room he shared with Jeremy who was out exploring and spending money. His footsteps echoed in the hallway, each one heavier than the last as he neared the door. He didn't knock. He simply pushed the door open, his breath catching as he found Klaus sitting near the window watching the passerby's outside, a glass of whiskey in hand.

Klaus looked up, his expression flickering with surprise before softening into that familiar smirk that always made Stefan's stomach twist. "Stefan," he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey dripping from his lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Stefan swallowed hard, closing the door behind him. He didn't trust himself to speak right away, so he just stared at Klaus, taking in the way his blue eyes seemed to pierce straight through him, as if Klaus could see the turmoil Stefan was trying so hard to suppress.

Klaus raised an eyebrow, setting his glass down and leaning back in his chair. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Something on your mind, love?"

The casual endearment sent a shiver down Stefan's spine, and he clenched his fists at his sides, trying to gather his thoughts. "Why did you do it?" he asked finally, his voice hoarse.

Klaus tilted his head, feigning innocence. "Do what, exactly?"

"Take my memories," Stefan said, his voice growing steadier. "Take away everything we had—everything we were."

Klaus sighed, standing slowly and closing the distance between them. "Ah, that," he said, his tone softening. "I told you before, Stefan. It was for your own protection. For our protection. You know what my father would have done if he found you."

Stefan shook his head, his jaw tightening. "You didn't give me a choice," he said. "You decided for me. And now... now I don't know what to do with this." He gestured vaguely, as if trying to encompass the swirling emotions that threatened to consume him.

Klaus stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "And what exactly is this, Stefan?" he asked, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

Stefan's breath hitched as Klaus closed the gap between them, his proximity overwhelming. He could smell the faint scent of whiskey on Klaus' breath, could feel the heat radiating off him. For a moment, Stefan couldn't speak, his heart pounding in his chest as he met Klaus' piercing gaze.

"This," Stefan said finally, his voice breaking. "This pull. This... whatever it is between us. I can't stop thinking about you. Even without my memories, you were always there, haunting me. And now that I remember..." He trailed off, his hands trembling at his sides.

Klaus' lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "You feel it too," he said, his voice thick with something that sounded almost like relief.

Stefan didn't respond. He couldn't. Instead, he closed the remaining distance between them, his hands gripping the front of Klaus' shirt as he pulled him into a kiss.

It was desperate, hungry, and electric, like a dam breaking after years of restraint. Klaus responded instantly, his hands sliding up to cup Stefan's face as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against Stefan's with a fervor that left them both breathless.

The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, tangled in a moment that felt both timeless and inevitable. When they finally broke apart, their foreheads resting against each other, Stefan's breath came in ragged gasps, his heart pounding like a drum.

"I don't know what this means," Stefan whispered, his voice raw.

Klaus smiled softly, his thumb brushing against Stefan's jaw. "It means we stop pretending, love. We stop fighting this... whatever it is. And we see where it takes us."

Stefan closed his eyes, letting himself lean into Klaus for just a moment, the weight of his guilt and confusion easing ever so slightly. For the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself hope.

The next day, Klaus and Stefan were lounging on a plush, velvet couch in the chic boutique, a glass of champagne in hand as they waited for Anastasia to emerge from the fitting room. The atmosphere was relaxed, the air fragrant with expensive leather and the delicate scent of designer perfumes. Soft, upbeat music played in the background, creating a pleasant hum of energy that made the space feel both intimate and lively.

Klaus leaned back, swirling the champagne in his glass, his other hand laid atop the couch and playing with Stefan's hair, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he glanced over at Stefan who was barely a centimeter away from him, their spread thighs touching.

"You know," he drawled, his voice smooth and teasing, "we've been sitting here for what feels like an eternity. Does our darling Ana plan to dazzle us anytime soon, or does she intend to keep us on the edge of our seats forever?"

Stefan chuckled softly, his eyes glancing toward the fitting room door. "You know how she is. She likes to make an entrance. She thrives on keeping us guessing."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, a glint of amusement dancing in his blue eyes. "Ah, yes. Always the dramatic one. I suppose that's what makes her so... irresistible." He took a small sip of his champagne, savoring the delicate taste. "I do enjoy her flair for the dramatic. But still, this suspense is almost too much."

Just as Klaus finished speaking, the fitting room door swung open, and Anastasia stepped out, her presence lighting up the room. She was wearing a sleek, short black dress that clung to her figure in all the right places. She struck a playful pose, hands resting on her hips, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Well?" she asked, tilting her head and flashing a coy smile, her gaze shifting between the two of them. "What do you think?"

Klaus' gaze swept over her, his usual charming smirk transforming into something softer, something warmer. He leaned forward slightly, clearly admiring her. "You look absolutely breathtaking, my love. Like a goddess gracing mere mortals with your presence." His tone was laced with admiration, and there was no mistaking the intensity in his eyes.

Stefan, who had been caught off guard by her stunning appearance, blinked before nodding, his smile genuine. "You look stunning, Ana. Honestly, it's hard to even focus on anything else when you're standing there."

Anastasia's smile widened, clearly pleased with the compliments. But she wasn't finished yet. "Wait here," she said with a wink, her voice playful. "I've got a few more looks to show you." With that, she disappeared back into the fitting room, leaving Klaus and Stefan to exchange amused glances.

"So, what do you think?" Klaus asked, his tone teasing as he looked at Stefan.

Stefan smirked, leaning back on the couch. "She knows exactly how to keep us captivated. And I've got to admit—her confidence is contagious."

Klaus chuckled, swirling his champagne. "Indeed. She could make anyone feel weak in the knees with just one look." He glanced over at Stefan, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "You know, I've never quite met anyone like her. She's... unpredictable. But that's part of the charm."

Before Stefan could respond, the sound of the door creaking open interrupted their conversation. Enzo, ever the bold and charming figure, strolled into the boutique with his usual cocky grin. His eyes immediately landed on the fitting room door, and without hesitation, he made his way toward it.

"Enzo?" Stefan called out, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "You really can't help yourself, can you?"

Enzo shot him a wink, a smirk playing on his lips. "What can I say? When Ana's involved, I'm always up for a little... adventure."

Inside the fitting room, Anastasia was adjusting her next outfit when she heard the soft creak of the door. She turned in surprise to see Enzo slipping inside, the door closing quietly behind him.

"Enzo!" she whispered, though there was a playful edge to her tone. "What are you doing here?"

Enzo leaned casually against the doorframe, his dark eyes scanning her with a mixture of admiration and amusement. "Couldn't resist, darling. I missed you and you're putting on quite the show in here. I thought I'd sneak in and get a closer look."

Anastasia rolled her eyes, her lips curving into a smile. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

Enzo's grin widened. "And you love it. Don't pretend you don't." He stepped closer, his gaze never leaving hers. He gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "You're a vision, Ana. My beautiful angel."

Her breath hitched at the sincerity in his voice, and before she could respond, his lips were on hers, soft and lingering. For a moment, time seemed to stand still, and the world outside the fitting room faded away.

When they finally pulled apart, Anastasia shook her head with a laugh, though her cheeks were flushed. "You're lucky Klaus and Stefan didn't see you sneak in here."

Enzo grinned, his charm unmistakable. "What can I say? I like to live dangerously."

She playfully swatted his arm, though her eyes twinkled with affection. "Go on, get out before you get us both in trouble."

Enzo winked, his grin never fading. "Anything for you, love."

As Enzo slipped out the door, Anastasia quickly straightened herself up, making sure she looked presentable before stepping back out into the main area. She reappeared a moment later in a new outfit, her cheeks still tinged with color but her smile brighter than ever. Neither Klaus nor Stefan commented on her flushed appearance, though Klaus raised an eyebrow knowingly, a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes as he looked over at the newly arrived, Enzo.

"So, how do I look?" Ana asked, her voice light, but there was a spark of amusement in her tone as she looked between them.
Klaus studied her with an air of both admiration and playfulness. "You always look incredible, love."

Stefan smirked, his gaze lingering on her. "I think we can both agree, you've got us both completely captivated."

"I'd rather it on the floor but beggars can't be choosers," Enzo sighed wistfully, grinning at Ana.

She rolled her eyes that were dancing with mischief. "Well, I do like to keep you both on your toes. And yes beggars can't be choosers."

Klaus and Stefan exchanged glances, both smirking in unison. "Mission accomplished," Klaus said, his voice rich with affection and amusement.

Stefan hadn't meant to wander into Klaus' room. He wasn't even sure why he was there—maybe to talk, maybe just to see him. But now that he was standing in the doorway, he couldn't seem to leave.

Klaus was seated on the edge of the bed, shirt unbuttoned, sipping lazily from a glass of red wine. His legs were crossed, one hand resting on his knee as he tilted his head and smirked at Stefan.

"Well, well," Klaus said, setting his glass down on the bedside table. "What brings you here, love? Can't sleep?"

Stefan tried to come up with an excuse, but nothing sounded convincing, so he just shrugged, leaning against the doorframe. "I guess I just... felt like talking."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Talking, you say? With me? I must say, I'm flattered."

Before Stefan could respond, the sound of soft footsteps echoed in the hall, and Anastasia appeared behind him. She was barefoot, dressed in one of Klaus' shirts that hung loosely on her frame, the sleeves far too long for her. Her hair was slightly tousled, and she looked like she'd just woken up.

"There you are," she said, stifling a yawn as she slipped past Stefan into the room. "I woke up and you were gone."

Klaus' expression softened immediately as he watched her cross the room, her presence effortlessly commanding attention. "Apologies, darling," he said, his voice low and warm. "I was just enjoying a bit of solitude, but now it seems I have the pleasure of both of you here."

Anastasia rolled her eyes but smiled, climbing onto the bed and settling herself beside Klaus. She rested her head on his shoulder, her legs curled beneath her, and gave Stefan a teasing look. "Are you going to stand there all night, Stefan? Or are you coming in?"

Stefan hesitated for a moment before stepping into the room, closing the door behind him. He felt strangely out of place, like he was intruding on an intimate moment, but Klaus' smirk told him he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

"Come sit," Klaus said, patting the empty spot on the bed beside him. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to keep admiring me from a distance. I wouldn't blame you."

Stefan rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he sat down, careful to leave a bit of space between himself and Klaus.

Anastasia watched him with a playful glint in her eyes. "You're so tense," she said, reaching out to poke his shoulder. "Relax, Stefan. You're among friends. Or... something like that."

Klaus chuckled, the sound rich and low, as he took another sip of his wine. "Something like that indeed," he echoed, his gaze flickering between Anastasia and Stefan. "Though I must say, the tension between the two of you is palpable. Should I be jealous?"

Stefan's eyes widened slightly, and Ana laughed, a melodic sound that filled the room. "Jealous of what?" she teased. "I'm dating both of you, remember? There's no room for jealousy here. But I can't help but notice how our dear Stefan looks at you, Klaus. It's rather endearing."

Stefan felt his cheeks flush, and he cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. "I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, avoiding Klaus' gaze.

"Oh, don't be shy," Ana said, nudging him gently. "You're adorable when you're flustered."

Klaus reached out, his fingers brushing against Stefan's chin as he tilted his head to meet his eyes. "She's right, you know," he said softly. "You are adorable when you're flustered."

Stefan's breath caught, his heart racing as Klaus' gaze locked onto his. There was something almost hypnotic about those piercing blue eyes, something that made Stefan forget how to breathe.

Ana watched them with a knowing smile, her head resting on Klaus' shoulder as she observed the unspoken tension between the two men. "You two are impossible," she said, her tone light and teasing. "But it's kind of cute."

Klaus chuckled, finally releasing Stefan from his gaze as he leaned back against the pillows, pulling Ana closer to him. "I suppose we make quite the trio," he mused, his arm draped casually around her shoulders.

Stefan couldn't help but smile, the warmth of their presence easing the tension in his chest. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he belonged—like he wasn't carrying the weight of his past alone.

As the three of them sat together, the conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and teasing remarks. And for a moment, Stefan allowed himself to forget about the darkness that lingered at the edges of his mind. For a moment, he was just Stefan, surrounded by the two people who made him feel alive.

Truth be told, Anastasia never thought she'd find love, not in this life nor in her previous one. Alisha, though, was something else—an enigma. She didn't fit into the neat little box her world tried to place her in, a world built on fame, wealth, and perfection. She was the kind of girl who appeared simple on the surface, yet nothing about her was uncomplicated. Despite her calm upbringing, there was something beneath her beauty and grace that Ana couldn't quite decipher.

Alisha and her were frighteningly similar. Ambitious, yes—both of them carried an unspoken god complex, cloaked under layers of glittering smiles and charming facades. Ana had never expected to love again, not after Alisha, but somehow, she found myself surrounded by people who showed her a different kind of love—a love that didn't carry the weight of a name, or legacy. For once, Ana was loved not for what she was, but for who she had become.

Love had always been a foreign concept to her, even before Alisha. She shattered every preconception Ana had of that messy, overwhelming thing we call love. But the others? They weren't like her. They didn't pull her along on every whim or speak in sweet words wrapped in venom.

Their love was simple, unconditional—a stark contrast to the brutal, bloody competition Alisha and Ana played in. Where Ana had once had to claw my way through the wreckage of others' lives to touch her perfect skin, now she was surrounded by something softer, gentler.

It was strange when it first happened with Jeremy. At first, it didn't feel real. A younger boy, with a smile that could melt anyone, had a crush on her? Ana thought it would pass with time. But then, there was something about him that bulldozed every wall she'd built around herself. She hadn't expected to like him—especially not with the weight of everything she'd been through—but somehow, there he was, holding onto her and accepting her.

Enzo was easier, she had saved him and he had fallen easy. It wasn't hard for her to fall into his emotions and be swept up in it then it turned to something powerful. With Alaric, it was a joke and a challenge, to hit the cliche of hooking up with a teacher. He was a human with strong convictions and the way he handled a stake was hot and she had always had a thing for older men. It was a fling until real feelings blossomed. The Mikaelson brothers were new and old to her, they were dangerous and she loved the thrill of danger around them.

Dreams were something Anastasia rarely had. Most of them were fragmented memories, or an endless void where Deaht would pull her into its grasp to check in on her. But this time was different. This dream started like a memory, but it felt like something else entirely.

Anastasia found herself sitting at the booth Alisha and she used to frequent in their favorite café. The dim lights cast a moody glow over the empty space. The jukebox in the corner hummed with the soft, melancholy jazz she adored, but something was wrong. The warmth of the café, the bustling energy it usually held—none of it was there. Instead, it felt like a strange, quiet dream.

"Amore mio," the voice whispered—soft and intoxicating. Ana hadn't heard it in years, but it still held the same power over her. It fluttered against her skin, sending a shiver through her spine. Ana's eyes closed as the words echoed in her head, a tantalizing, familiar rhythm.

Slowly, she sunk into the booth, her head leaning to the side as she opened her eyes. And there she was—Alisha, standing before her like she was real, like Ana could reach out and touch her.

"Tesoruccio," Anastia whispered, the words leaving her lips almost reverently. How long had it been since she'd seen her, heard her voice? Ana hadn't dreamed of her in years, and yet, she remembered everything—the smoothness of her tan skin, the sharp lines of her jaw, the way her freckles danced across her face. Her hair was braided in the style I adored, the long, tight twists that always made her look even more untouchable.

"Sei bella proprio come ti ricordavo... madre," Ana breathed, the words falling from her like a prayer, as if she'd forgotten the ache of missing her. She looked at Ana with those eyes—brown, warm, filled with love. It felt strange, seeing that love in her gaze when everything that came after her had been filled with betrayal, with scars.

Ana didn't realize her hand had reached out until she felt the softness of her cheek beneath Ana's fingertips. She leaned into Ana's touch, smiling that soft smile of hers. There was no malice, no resentment, just a quiet amusement. And yet, she could feel the ache in her chest—the weight of all the time lost.

"Mi sei mancato," Ana murmured, the words barely escaping her lips before she realized how much she truly had missed her. Life, with all its chaos, had made it easier to forget about this aching void. But now, in the presence of her ghost, Ana couldn't pretend otherwise.

"I've missed you too, darling. I'm so proud of you. You're doing amazing," she responded in English, her voice soft, but her words cold against Ana's skin. She pulled her hand away, heart heavy, and placed it behind her on the top of the booth.

"This is a poorly constructed dream, whoever you are," Ana hissed, the irritation creeping back as she clenched her fist. Something about this wasn't right. It wasn't her. No, it couldn't be. Alisha would never say those words, not in that voice—not after all these years. Ana's hand trembled as she resisted the urge to destroy the apparition in front of her.

"Don't be like that, amore mio," the voice purred. "Haven't you missed me? I've missed you terribly. You left me all alone." She leaned closer, and for a moment, her old self—the one who would have crumbled under her touch—felt that old pull, that longing. But Anastasia couldn't let it happen. Not this time.

"Stop this foolish joke, you harlot," she snarled, her hand grabbing the back of her neck, pulling her away from herself. "Tell me who you are before I get angry."

The apparition rolled its eyes, sighing in mock exasperation. "It's very difficult to get into your head, little one," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "I'm not as skilled as my annoying husband, but I think I was doing well."

And then, before Ana's eyes, her face cracked—literally cracked, like a fragile mask being torn away. The skin split, revealing the true face underneath. It wasn't Alisha anymore. It couldn't be.

It wasn't hard to figure out who it was once wearing her love's face, it was hard for even seasoned witches like Gloria to even attempt to get into Ana's head and do something like this but she wouldn't put it past Questiyha, Shewould've assumed it would be Esther with her hold over the old witches but she wouldn't or rather couldn't do something like this.

"Times have truly changed," a familiar voice muttered. The figure in front of her, now fully revealing itself, was unmistakable.

"Quesityah," Ana whispered, her voice low with both recognition and annoyance. She moved her hand away from the ancient witches' neck, rolling her shoulders back in irritation. "What are you doing here instead of staying on the other side?"

"You are more interesting up close than from a distance," she responded coolly, her eyes flicking around the empty café with a barely concealed look of disdain.

Ana sighed heavily and asked, "What do you want? I assume this has something to do with Silas... or Bonnie, your descendant."

Quesityah's lips twisted into a smile. "Bonnie is powerful, yes, but she could be better. But yes... it begins and ends with Silas."

The next day, Anastasia sat in the quiet corner of her room, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. The soft morning light filtered through the blinds, casting gentle shadows across the floor. Her mind was swirling, a storm of thoughts and emotions that she couldn't seem to quiet. She had known for a while now, but the reality of it still felt like a heavy weight on her chest.

She was pregnant.

It wasn't something she had planned, and honestly, it wasn't something she ever thought would happen—especially given her circumstances. The question, of course, was who the father was. She had been with Klaus, Enzo, Stefan, Alaric, and Jeremy—all of them, her boyfriends, each of them playing an important part in her life.

But which one had fathered the child? Or was it all of them? She didn't know, it didn't matter to her, she would love it regardless but she hoped the others saw it that way.

Ana took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to calm the storm inside her. Her love for each of them was different, yet they all held a special place in her heart. Klaus with his wild, untamed passion, Enzo with his irresistible charm, Stefan with his gentle soul, Alaric with his steady and dependable nature, and Jeremy with his youthful innocence and loyalty. How could she explain this to them? How could she face them when the truth felt so complicated?

But Ana wasn't one to run away from her problems, especially when the people she loved were at stake. The thought of telling them, of sharing this life-altering news, was terrifying. But deep down, she knew she had to. She couldn't carry this burden alone.

So, with a deep breath, Ana stood up from the chair and walked to the window, gazing out at the world beyond. She felt the weight of the decision she was about to make, but she also felt a sense of resolve settling over her. It was time. She would tell them.

Later that evening, Ana gathered the courage to invite Klaus, Enzo, Stefan, Alaric, and Jeremy over. They all arrived separately, as always, but Ana could tell that the tension in the room was palpable. They could feel something was different about her, something was off, and they were all too perceptive not to notice the quiet anxiety that hung in the air.

Once everyone was settled, Ana took a deep breath and looked at each of them in turn. Klaus was the first to notice the change in her expression, his gaze softening as he stepped closer to her. Enzo, always the playful one, seemed to sense the seriousness of the moment, his usual smirk replaced by a rare look of concern. Stefan, ever the quiet one, was already looking at her with a mixture of affection and curiosity, while Alaric and Jeremy both stood off to the side, waiting for her to speak.

"I need to tell you all something," Ana began, her voice soft but steady. "And I don't know how to say it. I don't even know how it happened, but..." She took a deep breath. "I'm pregnant."

The room fell silent, all of them processing her words in their own way. Ana could feel the weight of their stares, could feel their love and concern for her in the way they watched her, as if she was the most precious thing in the world to them.

Klaus was the first to speak, his voice calm and steady despite the surprise in his eyes. "Anastasia... Are you sure?" he asked, stepping closer to her, his hand gently touching her arm.

Ana nodded, her gaze never leaving him. "I've known for a while. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't know how. And... I don't know who the father is. I've been with all of you, and I don't know who's... responsible."

Enzo stepped forward next, his expression warm and reassuring. "Ana, darling, you don't have to know who the father is. We're all here for you. And no matter what, we'll be here for this child, too."

Stefan nodded in agreement, his usual calm demeanor laced with an earnestness that made Ana's heart swell. "You don't have to do this alone, Ana. We're all in this together."

Jeremy gave her a supportive smile, his eyes filled with kindness. "No matter who the father is, you're our family. And we'll support you through this, every step of the way."

Alaric, always the compassionate one, stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "We'll figure this out together. You're not alone in this."

Tears pricked at Ana's eyes, but she held them back. She had feared this moment, had feared that they would turn away from her, that they would be angry or scared. But instead, they were nothing but supportive, loving, and understanding.

Klaus stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. "Ana, I don't care who the father is. I love you. And I will love this child. We'll raise this child together, all of us."

Enzo grinned, his usual playful demeanor returning. "Yeah, imagine what an amazing kid this is going to be, growing up with all of us around. Talk about spoiled."

Stefan smiled softly. "We'll all be there, every step of the way. I promise."

Ana looked at all of them—Klaus, Enzo, Stefan, Alaric, and Jeremy—and in that moment, she knew that everything would be okay. They were going to raise this child together, no matter the complications or the uncertainties. She wasn't alone, and for the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of peace.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you all," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But thank you. Thank you for loving me, for accepting me."

Klaus smiled, his hand gently cupping her cheek. "You deserve everything, Ana. You've given us your heart, and we'll protect it. Always."

And in that moment, Ana knew that no matter what the future held, she had her family. She had Klaus, Enzo, Stefan, Alaric, and Jeremy. They were going to face everything together.

________

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

This was supposed to 12k but I deleted a fair bit because it just didn't fit sorry :( Go check out my co-written HP X PJO fanfic!!! https://www.wattpad.com/story/387653060-𝐎𝐅-𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒-𝐀𝐍𝐃-𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂-━━-𝐩𝐣𝐨-𝐱-𝐡𝐩

I know some people hate me bringing up Alisha but I think this conservation really needed to happen for Ana to completely move on and accept her new life especially with her being pregnant. This will be the last we see of her in this, she might pop up in the Legacies sequel if I'm feeling cruel hehe

Side note: it made no sense that Niklaus didn't hear Elena's heartbeat or smell her like he's a hybrid, and he just conveniently didn't hear a rapid beating heart a cm away.

vote and comment x

words: 10, 341