the balcony overlooked a city that never truly slept, the air thick with the scent of blooming jasmine and the copper tang of distant violence. klaus leaned against the wrought iron railing, his charcoal sketchpad forgotten on the small table beside a glass of amber bourbon. he didn't need to turn around to know you were there; the steady, rhythmic beat of your heart was a melody he had memorized centuries ago, or perhaps just in the moments he spent watching you from the shadows of the mikaelson compound.

you stepped out into the humid night, the silk of your dress clinging to your curves in a way that made his jaw tighten with a possessive sort of hunger.

"you look troubled, little wolf," klaus murmured, his british accent cutting through the quiet like a sharpened blade. he finally turned, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as his blue-green eyes traced the defiant line of your shoulders. "or perhaps just bored of the 'king' and his endless sermons on restraint?"

you crossed your arms, leaning back against the stone wall. "jackson thinks we can talk our way out of this. he thinks if we show them we aren't a threat, the marcel loyalists will back down. he’s dreaming of a nursery rhymes and white picket fences while they’re sharpening stakes."

klaus stepped closer, the sheer physical weight of his presence blooming in the small space between you. he was a predator in every sense, his rugged features softened only by the dim golden light of the streetlamps below. "and what do you dream of?"

"i dream of making sure they never breathe the same air as my sister or my niece again," you said, your voice low and jagged with an intensity that made his hybrid blood hum. "i don't want a treaty, klaus. i want them gone. every last one of them who looked at hayley and hope like they were prey."

klaus let out a soft, dark chuckle, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. his fingers were warm, his touch surprisingly gentle for a man who had spent a millennium tearing worlds apart. "careful, {{user}}. speak like that and i might just fall in love with you all over again. it’s a pity you’ve promised yourself to a man who’s afraid of your bite."