At least he hadn’t called her a liar. That was one of many things she hated other than dark magic and violence against those who were weaker: being called a liar when she did not lie. She could not. It was not something she could do with no guilt. She had always been taught to be as truthful as she could unless it was of extreme importance.
She bristled at his order. But it didn’t matter really. He could have killed her, sent her off to go find peace. She’d have to count her lucky stars that he had not. So even if he didn’t ask her to follow him, she still would. Being around dead bodies would only cause her to finally give into her disgust and fear.
She did not like being around dead, soon to be decaying bodies for long. To her they had to be lit on a funeral pyre as a proper send off. “Lead the way then, Niklaus. After you,” she said softly. She ran her right hand over her left ring finger, a finger that had once had a wedding band on it, as sort of a nervous kick.
She eyed him, seeing his face as it gave nothing away. He was no longer the young Viking boy who had fallen in love with her, who had clashed with his older brother over her, who had been rejected BY her in the end for his brother. Merely because she had not loved him the way he had her. Had that been the start of his current vengeful nature? Instead here was a cold blooded killer.
“…. Niklaus,” she said, her voice soft so that she would not anger him. He looked to be in no mood to deal with questions about himself. So instead she wanted to know something else entirely. “Niklaus, praytell… do you know what became of my daughter? Of Caia?” Even though resurrected, her first thoughts now after everything had seemed to calm down, was of her baby girl.
The full name proved worse than the nickname. Though he now reserved Nik for his younger siblings, at least it did not carry the weight of condemnation that Niklaus so easily bore. Klaus was certain it was intended to crawl beneath his skin, to enact vengeance for some slight against her. There were plenty of reasons she might have offered. He bore it the first time without comment. He had begun to turn already, and with her verbal agreement to follow, he saw no need to hesitate in this place a moment longer. A little light, a little bourbon, and the security of territory belonging to him, not his foes, would go along way towards easing his brewing mood.
The second time she spoke the name, he gritted his teeth against it. The third, however, he stopped dead, spinning to face her. ❛ Niklaus is no longer a name that I recognize, Tatia. Call me Klaus. ❜
He did not wait for a response, confirmation that she would obey the edict, nor a refusal to heed his wishes. Only when he had resumed walking at the agonizingly-slow pace she, as mortal human, would require did he so much as acknowledge the question she had uttered. He had no answer for her, and made no effort to temper his words, to soften the disappointment they must surely provoke. ❛ As for Caia, I must confess I had other concerns to trouble myself with at the time. ❜ Keeping an eye on Tatia’s daughter had not ranked among his priorities, nor even occurred to him. ❛ Though really, given that a thousand years have now passed, it would scarcely seem to matter. Whatever fate had in store for her, she is long dead now. ❜
If anyone had tracked the child’s life, it would be Elijah. Klaus could always ask. Assuming, of course, that his dear brother saw fit to answer his call. Though perhaps, just perhaps, if Klaus texted him with the information of Tatia’s apparent resurrection his brother would see fit to indulge himself in a visit.