Pain.
This was the only word that permeated the cotton bunting my head was swaddled within. Pain had latched onto every inch of my body and was now prodding at me to awaken fully to face the consequences of my midnight sojourn. The pain was not going to be the only consequence I faced as I looked upon the back of Niklaus; all coiled tension ready to spring forth at the littlest indication the source of his ire had rejoined the land of the living. Not wanting to face what was bound to be a most unpleasant encounter, I chose to feign continued sleep; possibly for the next year or so.
“Are you an imbecile?”
I instantly knew my ruse was not as believable as my talent in parlor room theatrics had assured me. Blinking my eyes to try and focus better on my captor, I came to find my one eye was not cooperating in opening fully. I imagine my face had made contact with the fist of my assailant at some point in our scuffle. This truly would make batting my eyes at Matthew more difficult.
“I…I’m sorry…?”
“Are. You. An. Imbecile? No apologies are necessary love, if your deficient mental faculties created this situation. My spy did not include that bit of information in the dossier he collected on you, but I suppose all you weak-minded society dames have a similar lack of formal education which would mask an ingrained level of idiocy. It would just appear to be the normal shallow nature of your sort. Had I known you were particularly impaired, perhaps I would have taken greater precautions.”
My indignation at being lumped in with many of the ninnies who only knew of fashion plates and the best petit fours to serve at afternoon tea forced me to sit up and argue my case in a most forceful manner. Sadly, my poor body had enough abuse for one night and I winced and let out a low groan as I fell back on the bed in agony. For a moment it appeared as if Niklaus was going to rush forward in sympathy, even taking a step before his visage hardened once more from concern to anger. Nevertheless, my mouth was still functional even in its swollen state.
“I would think it wise indeed to have a heightened sense of self-preservation. Should I have hung about until you tired of playing babysitter to the pampered, pedigreed princess or attempted to save my own damn self?!”
I spit out the last in a fit of outrage. Niklaus could call me a whore if he so chose, it wasn’t like he had been the first, but to insinuate I was nothing but a be-laced ornament hit a little too close to the stifling expectations put upon me.
“I will tell you this, Niklaus Mikaelson, I will never stop trying to get home to my father. I will survive whatever is thrown at me and thrive!”
In a flash he is hovering over me as I lie on the bed, a mere layer or two of blankets separating my heaving bosom from his more hardened chest. The look in his eyes has changed yet again. There almost appears to be a begrudging respect warring with the amusement at my outburst. A corner of his full mouth quirks up to reveal the most interesting dimple I have ever seen. My fingers begin to itch to trace along it and I inwardly curse my most foolish thoughts.
“You are lucky my hunger for sustenance is currently out-weighing my hunger for baser pursuits or I would not be able to resist having a taste of that spicy tongue of yours.”
And with that he is off me and heading towards the door.
“You must have hit your head quite hard to not even notice your change in environs, Bekah. You are now in the room adjoining mine so I can keep a close watch on your new escape plans. I may even find them quite amusing. Good night.”
Once I am fully able to breathe again I see that I am not in my former chambers but in an entirely different stateroom. My things, or at least those things bought for me, have been moved over thusly and I rake my hands over my body to assure myself the jewels I had pinned within my skirt where still safely ensconced. I am relieved to find Mr. Mikaelson may be many things, but a defiler of unconscious women is not one of them and the pouch is still pinned within.
I roll over gently until I am comfortably situated for the night, sleep invading my senses almost immediately.
“NO! NO! NO! GET OFF! MY GOD! HELP ME!”
A terrified voice I don’t even recognize is my own pierces the calm as footsteps race quickly towards my bed. I lash out at my attacker with all my might, scratching and punching, determined to fight myself out of this predicament.
“Bekah. Bekah! Settle down, sweetheart, it is I, Nik. You’re OK. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
I come fully awake and blink under the lamplight spilling in through the doorway from the adjacent room. Strong arms embrace me as my struggles begin to wane. The irony of the words being spoken against my brow tinged with fear induced sweat are not lost on me, but the voice is soothing in spite of our respective roles. I am not safe with him, and yet I feel the tension begins to leave my body. The nightmare that sparked this outburst is fading from my mind and instead of the rough hands of my assailant; I can only feel his hands on me, protecting me.
My breathing slows as calm returns and Niklaus begins to slide off of the bed. In a panic, I grab onto the linen nightshirt he wears and cling desperately.
“Please don’t leave me! If you go he will come back and do unspeakable things to me. I cannot bear it, Nik!”
I cannot see the hesitation in his face nor the look of true concern in his eyes as I nuzzle into his chest, but I can feel his strong arms as they embrace me and the hear the soothing voice that starts to croon words of comfort.
“Shh. You have nothing to fear, love. He is gone and can no longer injure you. I promise I will keep you safe as long as you are under my supervision. Nothing and no one will harm you.”
The actions combined are enough to bring sleep rushing back to me, dragging me back under. My only explanation for the kiss brushed against my hairline is it must have been the beginnings of a new dream taking hold. The dastardly Pirate Niklaus would never show such tenderness.
The next morning I awaken to a pillow that seems to rise and fall at a steady pace, but pillows do not move. It takes me several moments to put together the events of the prior evening before I realize who is acting as a substitute for down stuffing. I slowly tilt my head to catch a glimpse of Niklaus at rest and it is quite a sight to behold. The hardened mask has slipped and instead I observe handsome features unmarred by cynicism.
I can also make out the faint indent of the dimple which so fascinated me the night before. My hand moves up of its own volition to trace the mark which apparently cannot be denied. The moment I am about to touch his skin, my hand is manacled in fingers of iron. I meet Niklaus’s eyes and cannot speak, caught in my own folly and in some other web I fear will entangle me even further.
We stare, each one waiting for the other to blink first.
This was the only word that permeated the cotton bunting my head was swaddled within. Pain had latched onto every inch of my body and was now prodding at me to awaken fully to face the consequences of my midnight sojourn. The pain was not going to be the only consequence I faced as I looked upon the back of Niklaus; all coiled tension ready to spring forth at the littlest indication the source of his ire had rejoined the land of the living. Not wanting to face what was bound to be a most unpleasant encounter, I chose to feign continued sleep; possibly for the next year or so.
“Are you an imbecile?”
I instantly knew my ruse was not as believable as my talent in parlor room theatrics had assured me. Blinking my eyes to try and focus better on my captor, I came to find my one eye was not cooperating in opening fully. I imagine my face had made contact with the fist of my assailant at some point in our scuffle. This truly would make batting my eyes at Matthew more difficult.
“I…I’m sorry…?”
“Are. You. An. Imbecile? No apologies are necessary love, if your deficient mental faculties created this situation. My spy did not include that bit of information in the dossier he collected on you, but I suppose all you weak-minded society dames have a similar lack of formal education which would mask an ingrained level of idiocy. It would just appear to be the normal shallow nature of your sort. Had I known you were particularly impaired, perhaps I would have taken greater precautions.”
My indignation at being lumped in with many of the ninnies who only knew of fashion plates and the best petit fours to serve at afternoon tea forced me to sit up and argue my case in a most forceful manner. Sadly, my poor body had enough abuse for one night and I winced and let out a low groan as I fell back on the bed in agony. For a moment it appeared as if Niklaus was going to rush forward in sympathy, even taking a step before his visage hardened once more from concern to anger. Nevertheless, my mouth was still functional even in its swollen state.
“I would think it wise indeed to have a heightened sense of self-preservation. Should I have hung about until you tired of playing babysitter to the pampered, pedigreed princess or attempted to save my own damn self?!”
I spit out the last in a fit of outrage. Niklaus could call me a whore if he so chose, it wasn’t like he had been the first, but to insinuate I was nothing but a be-laced ornament hit a little too close to the stifling expectations put upon me.
“I will tell you this, Niklaus Mikaelson, I will never stop trying to get home to my father. I will survive whatever is thrown at me and thrive!”
In a flash he is hovering over me as I lie on the bed, a mere layer or two of blankets separating my heaving bosom from his more hardened chest. The look in his eyes has changed yet again. There almost appears to be a begrudging respect warring with the amusement at my outburst. A corner of his full mouth quirks up to reveal the most interesting dimple I have ever seen. My fingers begin to itch to trace along it and I inwardly curse my most foolish thoughts.
“You are lucky my hunger for sustenance is currently out-weighing my hunger for baser pursuits or I would not be able to resist having a taste of that spicy tongue of yours.”
And with that he is off me and heading towards the door.
“You must have hit your head quite hard to not even notice your change in environs, Bekah. You are now in the room adjoining mine so I can keep a close watch on your new escape plans. I may even find them quite amusing. Good night.”
Once I am fully able to breathe again I see that I am not in my former chambers but in an entirely different stateroom. My things, or at least those things bought for me, have been moved over thusly and I rake my hands over my body to assure myself the jewels I had pinned within my skirt where still safely ensconced. I am relieved to find Mr. Mikaelson may be many things, but a defiler of unconscious women is not one of them and the pouch is still pinned within.
I roll over gently until I am comfortably situated for the night, sleep invading my senses almost immediately.
“NO! NO! NO! GET OFF! MY GOD! HELP ME!”
A terrified voice I don’t even recognize is my own pierces the calm as footsteps race quickly towards my bed. I lash out at my attacker with all my might, scratching and punching, determined to fight myself out of this predicament.
“Bekah. Bekah! Settle down, sweetheart, it is I, Nik. You’re OK. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
I come fully awake and blink under the lamplight spilling in through the doorway from the adjacent room. Strong arms embrace me as my struggles begin to wane. The irony of the words being spoken against my brow tinged with fear induced sweat are not lost on me, but the voice is soothing in spite of our respective roles. I am not safe with him, and yet I feel the tension begins to leave my body. The nightmare that sparked this outburst is fading from my mind and instead of the rough hands of my assailant; I can only feel his hands on me, protecting me.
My breathing slows as calm returns and Niklaus begins to slide off of the bed. In a panic, I grab onto the linen nightshirt he wears and cling desperately.
“Please don’t leave me! If you go he will come back and do unspeakable things to me. I cannot bear it, Nik!”
I cannot see the hesitation in his face nor the look of true concern in his eyes as I nuzzle into his chest, but I can feel his strong arms as they embrace me and the hear the soothing voice that starts to croon words of comfort.
“Shh. You have nothing to fear, love. He is gone and can no longer injure you. I promise I will keep you safe as long as you are under my supervision. Nothing and no one will harm you.”
The actions combined are enough to bring sleep rushing back to me, dragging me back under. My only explanation for the kiss brushed against my hairline is it must have been the beginnings of a new dream taking hold. The dastardly Pirate Niklaus would never show such tenderness.
The next morning I awaken to a pillow that seems to rise and fall at a steady pace, but pillows do not move. It takes me several moments to put together the events of the prior evening before I realize who is acting as a substitute for down stuffing. I slowly tilt my head to catch a glimpse of Niklaus at rest and it is quite a sight to behold. The hardened mask has slipped and instead I observe handsome features unmarred by cynicism.
I can also make out the faint indent of the dimple which so fascinated me the night before. My hand moves up of its own volition to trace the mark which apparently cannot be denied. The moment I am about to touch his skin, my hand is manacled in fingers of iron. I meet Niklaus’s eyes and cannot speak, caught in my own folly and in some other web I fear will entangle me even further.
We stare, each one waiting for the other to blink first.