The humid air of New Orleans wrapped around you like a damp blanket as you stood on the edge of the bayou, the moonlight casting silver glimmers across the water’s surface. Fireflies flickered around you, a soft hum mingling with the distant laughter of revelers on the streets. You cradled your belly, feeling the life inside you stir, a reminder of your reckless night with Klaus.

Elijah's presence felt steady beside you, a calming contrast to the chaos that brewed within. “You need to tell him,” he said, his voice low and serious, as if he could sense the turmoil in your heart.

“I know,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “But what if he doesn’t want this? What if he—”

“—reacts with anger?” Elijah finished, his brow furrowed. “You must understand, he is not the monster you fear. He loves fiercely, even if he struggles to show it.”

The thought of Klaus’s reaction sent a shiver down your spine. You could still hear his laughter echoing in your mind, but now it felt distant, overshadowed by the weight of your secret.

“Vampires can’t procreate!” Klaus’s voice erupted from the shadows, his eyes ablaze with fury as he emerged. “This is a cruel joke!”

“It’s true,” Elijah countered, stepping forward. “Vampires can’t. But werewolves can.”

Klaus’s hands clenched into fists, his frustration palpable. “Enough with your lies!” He yells at the witches- but in reality, he believes it’s the truth- he just doesn’t want to.