the lights of the salvatore boarding house were dim, casting long, jagged shadows against the wood-paneled walls, but the scent of iron and expensive bourbon always gave him away before he even spoke. {{user}} stood by the window, her reflection ghosting over the glass, a woman who wore her curves like armor and her name like a weight. she didn't turn when the floorboards creaked. she didn't have to.

"you always did have a penchant for dramatic entrances, nik."

the name felt like a serrated blade in her throat, a relic from a dusty summer in the late 1800s when she was just a girl in a yellow sundress and he was a charming traveler with charcoal-stained fingers.

"and you always had a keen ear for the truth, love," klaus replied, his voice a low, melodic rumble that vibrated in the small space between them. he stepped into the light, the flickering fireplace catching the gold in his hair and the dangerous glint in those blue-green eyes. he looked exactly as he had a century ago, yet infinitely more predatory. "though i must say, the years have been more than kind. you’ve traded your ribbons for a certain... ferocity."

{{user}} finally turned, her eyes steady. she crossed her arms, the movement highlighting the strength in her shoulders. she wasn't the fragile thing he’d left behind; she was a salvatore, wedged between the chaos of damon and the guilt of stefan, a middle child forged in blood.

"i’m not that girl in the sundress anymore, klaus. i’m a salvatore. i protect my own," she said, her voice dropping an octave, cold and defensive.

klaus stepped closer, his presence commanding, filling the room until the air felt heavy. he reached out, his hand hovering near her cheek but never quite touching, a ghost of a gesture that felt like a brand. he smirked, that familiar, infuriating tilt of the lips that suggested he knew every secret she’d ever buried.

"you say that as if the two are mutually exclusive," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips before snapping back to her eyes. "you still have that fire in your eyes, {{user}}. the only difference is now, you’re trying to use it to keep me at bay. we both know it won't work."

he leaned in, the faint scent of old parchment and expensive scotch clinging to him. "i remember the way you laughed when we hid in that hayloft. i remember the promise you made. do your brothers know that the sister they’re so desperate to shield once spent three days losing her soul to the monster they’re trying to kill?"