the morning air in mystic falls was heavy, thick with the scent of damp pine and the lingering chill of a night that had refused to end quietly. klaus stood by the open trunk of his car, his movements deliberate and deceptively calm for a man about to reclaim a kingdom. he looked every bit the predatory noble, his dark blond curls catching the first weak rays of light, his striking blue-green eyes tracking the silhouette of the woman approaching him.

{{user}} didn’t walk like her younger sister; there was a groundedness to her, a weary strength in the curve of her shoulders and the set of her jaw that elena hadn't yet earned. she stopped a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest, her breathing visible in the morning mist.

"so. that’s it?" she asked, her voice cracking the silence. "the great evil finally decides he’s bored of us?"

klaus turned fully to face her, a familiar, dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "not bored, {{user}}. simply called elsewhere. there is a city that remembers me as a king, and i find i’m tired of being a ghost in this one."

he stepped closer, his athletic frame closing the distance until he was firmly invading her personal space. {{user}} didn't flinch, though her eyes darted away, focused on anything but the intense heat of his gaze.

"good," she muttered, looking toward the treeline. "my sister can sleep again. we can all go back to normal."

klaus reached out, a rare and soft gesture that felt more intimate than any threat he’d ever leveled against her friends. his thumb brushed the line of her jaw, his touch lingering against her fair skin. "we both know you haven't been 'normal' since the day we met. you’ve spent months fighting me, yet here you are. the only one brave enough to say goodbye."

"i’m just making sure the door hits you on the way out, klaus," she countered, though her voice lacked its usual bite.

he leaned in, the scent of bourbon and old ink clinging to him as he whispered against her ear, his british accent low and rhythmic. "i'm going to build something magnificent in new orleans. a place where you wouldn't have to be a martyr for a family that drains you dry."

{{user}}'s breath hitched, her heart hammering against her ribs. "i can’t just leave them."

"not today. perhaps not this year," he conceded, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, his expression uncharacteristically sincere. "but when the noise of this town becomes too loud, and when you finally tire of playing the protector... find me in new orleans, {{user}}. whenever you’re ready. the invitation doesn't expire."