They landed just after sunset.

The village was silent, long since abandoned — stone ruins scattered across the cliffs like forgotten bones. The sea stretched out below them, cold and endless, crashing against the rocks with a sound Klaus had never truly forgotten.

{{user}} stepped carefully through the broken archway, glancing around. “Where are we?”

Klaus didn’t answer right away. He stood a few feet behind her, hands in his coat pockets, gaze fixed on the crumbled tower ahead.

“Scotland. This was once a stronghold,” he said softly. “Mine.”

She turned to him, eyebrows raised.

“You ruled here?”

“Briefly. Two lifetimes ago.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I spilled a lot of blood to keep this land. Thought if I built something lasting, the emptiness might stop.”

He walked past her, slow and quiet, stepping over ivy-covered stones.

“It didn’t.”

{{user}} followed him, saying nothing, just listening.

Inside the ruins, it was colder. The wind howled through broken windows and hollow walls. Klaus moved through the space like muscle memory — brushing his hand over old wood, pausing in the center of what once was a grand hall.

“My brother Elijah helped me build this,” he said. “We thought we could start over. No war, no enemies. Just peace.”

He looked at her then — truly looked.

“But peace is a lie when it’s built on fear. I drove them away. My soldiers. The villagers. Even my own family. I was king of ash and silence.”

{{user}} stepped closer, wrapping her fingers gently around his wrist.

“And why bring me here?”

He looked down at her hand. Then at her face.

“Because you’re the only thing I’ve ever wanted to build something with, not over.”

Her breath caught, but she didn’t pull away.

“You deserve to know all of me,” he said. “Not just the man who kisses you like you’re air — but the monster who once ruled a kingdom of fear.”

The wind picked up. Her hair whipped across her face, and he reached out, brushing it back, fingers lingering against her cheek.

“This place is a graveyard, love. But with you here, it feels like it’s breathing again.”

She leaned into his touch.

“Then let’s make something new,” she whispered.

And for the first time in a thousand years, Klaus Mikaelson believed that might actually be possible.