Henrik Mikaelson

his heart aches in the way it always has for his little brother, only now more painfully than ever before. he's here again, yes, but at what cost ? he isn't whole. he's tormented. at the hands of their family. " you were punished for what we did, " klaus surmises, each word more bitter than the next. emotion pools behind his tone, fury clutching a familiar grasp around his chest and squeezing. " how ? what did she do to you ? "

he does not know what to say, taken back by such a gesture. he had not expected such a welcome, perhaps he had feared what reality was in store for him. he expected abandonment, as his mother had convinced him so. he had learned to expect the worse, to avoid disappointment. his questioned spurred him to pause, breath hitching in his throat as he considered what to say. "an eternity of torture, both physically and emotionally. imagine what you feel when the sunlight hits your skin without a ring -- for each and every death you and our siblings caused , with no regard for anyone but yourselves." perhaps the darker side was coming out, but henrik was angry , and rightly so.

she left me to suffer. no. no, not henrik, not even while he was dead. it's a fate too cruel, too much for a boy who deserved none of it. for the mikaelson born most without sin. " every ounce of pain, " repeats slowly, forces himself to ask, " tell me what you mean by that. you were in pain ? "

he could not begin to explain the heartache , the trauma , that he had been through. it was incomprehensible, even after a thousand years, he was further yet from fully understanding why he deserved it. his mother believed it was for his siblings wrong doings, for if they would not suffer, then he would. such words did not freely flow, not yet -- it would take time for him to gain such trust.

swallowing hard, henrik's gaze met with his brothers , lost for a moment, blank expression met with his pained eyes. "i -- i don't know what to say , an eternity of hell at the hands of this family , i cannot begin to explain it." he paused, lips pressing together into a thin line before exhaling swiftly. "our mother believed if you and our siblings did not pa for destruction, then it was me who had to deal with it." he did not divulge further, avoiding his brothers gaze.

𝐈 . . . 𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 !

name . . . henrik mikaelson age . . . 18/1000+ sexuality . . . pansexual date of birth . . . 12th may place of birth . . . mystic falls species . . . warlock gender . . . cis male pronouns . . . he/him current location . . . . Beacon Hills languages . . . . english.

it can't be him. it's an impossibility not worth thinking into existence. this particular mikaelson, of them all, cannot be here. just looking at his face again has klaus reeling, transports him back into a time much simpler, when they'd make each other laugh with their reckless antics, when they'd lean upon one another when mikael was at his worst — then to a different time, just after that, and the crippling loss, henrik's mangled form ...

inhales sharply. refuses to acknowledge the tremor in his hands, forces himself a step closer before he thinks better of it, yet doesn't advance any further beyond that. " a thousand years of ... , " he tries, but it doesn't come out the way he wants; voice not haughty or demanding answers, but quiet and uncertain, so unlike himself. " what is this ? how did you get here, henrik ? "

in this moment, he feels afraid. he is consumed by many feelings, anger being the focus point. pent up rage that has never had the chance to surface. instead, he is often consumed by wondering why. for a millennium, he has wondered why he had been the one left behind. his family lived on, causing pain and anguish, whilst he suffered from afar. he wanted to blame them, and yet he felt a tinge of uncertainty, regret , and even happiness to be home.

the evening was, of course, eventful; meteors gliding through the night sky, bright trails of fire in their wake, happens rarely enough to entertain even a creature centuries upon centuries old. and as the sun begins to rise, the last of the crowds dispersing, klaus can't help but feel as if something is ... amiss. the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as he strides alone. calculating gaze flicks back and forth as he exits the town square — and there, standing statue still, staring back at him, is henrik.

everything stops.

klaus goes still. the impossibility doesn't move, features contorted into something frightened, familiar, accusing. " what trick is this ? " whispered beneath his breath. he wants to shout at it, he wants to demand answers, assert himself like the king he is — but here, this once, he falters. how can a monster be monstrous in front of this particular apparition ? he cannot. jaw clenched, unable to flee nor venture any closer, he can only murmur, " is it you, henrik ? "

his mind was overtaken, thus, his enjoyment of the meteors were short lived. he had taken his escape, venturing into the empty street square, perching himself upon a bench, secluding himself and his thoughts. he was overwhelmed, knowing his return had impacted him more than he first realised. he had not become accustomed to the idea of living, having spent a millennium in his own version of hell. he had assumed too much, to be able to mix into society again. it would take time for the trauma to be undone, if ever it would. he was succumb to his own version of hell, here in the land of the living.

as his eyes met with a familiar face, he felt himself stop breathing, just for a moment. his eyes scan his brothers expression, waiting for the inevitable anger, the questioning, the fear. why would he be back without a motive? this was something he assumed his brother would believe. for every wrong doing, henrik had seen it, and endured hell as consequence. he knew the kind of person he became, and he was fearful of it.