nik's wife

The man stepped up to the counter, his eyes locking onto yours. A slow, dimpled smirk spread across his face. "I certainly hope so, love. I'm looking for something... unconventional. Striking. Not your average, mundane grocery-store bouquet."

You blinked at the sudden charm offensive but quickly rallied. "Well, you're in luck. The ordinary stuff sold out hours ago—mostly because I didn't buy any. If you want striking, follow me."

You led him to the chilled display case and pointed to a bucket of deep, velvety, near-black crimson flowers. "Black Baccara roses. They're dark, dramatic, and a little bit dangerous."

The man’s eyes lit up with genuine delight. "Perfect," he murmured, though he was looking at you rather than the flowers. "They are absolutely magnificent. I'll take a dozen."

As you wrapped the stems in brown paper, you introduced yourself.

"I'm Niklaus," he replied, his smooth British accent sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. "But you can call me Klaus."

That first visit set off a bizarre, beautiful routine. Klaus began coming into your shop every single day. And every single day, without fail, he bought a dozen Black Baccara roses. You knew your shop wasn't a success, and you knew he was practically keeping your lights on by himself, but you also weren't dense—you realized pretty quickly that he was buying the flowers just to see you. You found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, his witty banter, and the effortless way he made you laugh.

But Klaus wasn't the only elegant, British-accented man frequenting your shop.

Later that week, the bell chimed again, and a very different kind of presence walked in. Elijah stepped through the door, looking, as always, like he had just stepped off the pages of a luxury menswear magazine. He carried a small cardboard tray containing two iced coffees.

"Please tell me one of those is for me, or I'm going to start eating the ferns," you sighed, slumping over the counter.

Elijah offered a soft, deeply comforting smile. "Naturally, y/n. I would never dare enter your establishment empty-handed when the ledger looks this... grim." He handed you a cup and walked over to your velvet display couch, sitting down with perfect posture. "How has the day treated you?"

"Terrible. I’ve had exactly two customers," you said, taking a grateful sip. "But hey, the guy with the leather jacket came back. He bought another dozen of the dark roses. Elijah, I swear he’s trying to court me, but he’s so dramatic about it. He talks about the 'poetry of the petals.' Who even says that?"

Elijah chuckled warmly, taking a sip of his coffee. "He sounds like a man of intense, perhaps overly theatrical, tastes. You must be careful with men who possess such... aggressive charm, y/n. They are often hiding a great deal of turbulence."

"Oh, please. He’s just a big softie who likes expensive gothic flowers," you laughed, tossing a stray leaf at him. "Unlike you, Mr. Three-Piece-Suit, who only comes here to hide from your family."

Elijah’s smile turned slightly bittersweet. "My family is... complicated, as you well know. Being here, surrounded by your beautiful chaos, is a welcome sanctuary. Now, let us look at those dreadful tax forms you’ve been avoiding, shall we?"

A few days later, Elijah was at the shop again. This time, he had upended his immaculate sleeves and was genuinely helping you repot a dying peace lily behind the counter, looking entirely absurd doing manual labor in a tailored vest.

"You're too good to me, Eli," you said, wiping a smudge of dirt from your forehead. "Seriously, what would I do without you?"

"You would likely be buried under a mountain of unorganized receipts," Elijah replied smoothly, patting the soil around the plant with careful precision. "I value our friendship deeply, y/n. You provide a honesty that is incredibly rare in my life. If anyone ever causes you distress—or if your mysterious rose-buyer ever disrespects you—you will tell me, correct?"

"Aye, aye, Captain Protective," you teased, bumping your shoulder against his. "I can handle myself. But I appreciate the older-brother routine."

Meanwhile, at the grand Mikaelson mansion across town, Klaus's sudden botanical obsession was not going unnoticed.

Klaus walked through the front doors, carrying his daily afternoon bundle of dark crimson roses. Elijah, having just returned from his potting duties at your shop, was sitting in the study, elegantly sipping a glass of bourbon. He set his glass down and sighed deeply.

"Niklaus," Elijah said, his voice dripping with refined exhaustion. "For weeks now, you have returned to this house every single afternoon carrying a bouquet of identical flowers. The conservatory is overflowing. The kitchen looks like a Victorian funeral. Pray tell, why are you buying these flowers every single day?"

Klaus rolled his eyes, tossing his jacket onto a chair. "If you must know, brother, I am amused by someone. A girl. She works at a rather pathetic, struggling little flower shop downtown. She is stubborn, she doesn't fear me, and she has a thoroughly delightful wit."

Elijah raised an eyebrow, a faint, knowing smile touching his lips. "Amused? You don't buy out a florist's inventory daily out of mere amusement, Niklaus. It seems you are smitten."

"I am merely biding my time," Klaus retorted defensively, adjusting his cuffs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a kingdom to run."

The next afternoon, Klaus walked into *Petals & Prose* with a newfound air of determination.

"Ah, the man of the hour," you teased as the bell chimed. "Let me guess. Black Baccara roses?"

"Actually, y/n," Klaus said, leaning his forearms against the counter and looking at you with intense, nervous sincerity. "As much as I adore your roses, I came here today with a question. Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner tonight? A proper date."

Your heart did a happy little flip. You beamed at him. "Klaus... I would love to. Sincerely."

Klaus’s face broke into a triumphant, brilliant grin. He had finally won.

Chime.

The bell above the door rang, shattering the romantic tension. You looked past Klaus's shoulder and waved happily. "Speak of the devil! Customer number four! Elijah, hey! Come on in!"

Klaus froze. The smug, victorious grin instantly vanished from his face. Slowly, like a character in a horror movie, Klaus turned around.

Standing in the doorway, looking immaculate in a tailored three-piece suit, was Elijah. He stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Klaus. Then he looked at you. Then he looked at the roses in Klaus's hand.

Both brothers looked utterly shocked to see each other. Klaus's jaw was clenched in confusion, while Elijah’s eyes widened as the pieces violently clicked together in his mind. This was the struggling flower shop. This was the girl Klaus was smitten with.

"Niklaus?" Elijah finally spoke, his voice tight. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Klaus’s eyes narrowed to slits. "I could ask you the same question, Elijah. Why are you lurking in this flower shop? What are you doing here?"

"Wait, hold on," you interjected, looking between the two of them. Your brain was spinning. Both had impeccable British accents. Both had that same dramatic, intense aura. "Elijah... you know Klaus?"

"Regrettably, yes," Elijah said, crossing his arms. "He is my younger brother."

"Brother?!" you yelled.

Klaus ignored you, glaring furiously at his older brother. "Answer my question, Elijah! Why are you here?"

"I am here because y/n is my best friend," Elijah stated firmly, stepping forward and placing himself protectively between Klaus and the counter. He adopted a stern, older-brother tone, looking back at you. "y/n, listen to me very carefully. You must stay away from this man. He is a plague. He is chaotic, ill-tempered, paranoid, and emotionally stunted. He will only bring drama to your life."

"Oh, brilliant! Wonderful brotherly support!" Klaus shouted, throwing his hands in the air, the Black Baccara roses waving wildly. "I am trying to court a lovely woman, and you walk in here doing a character assassination! How dare you!"

"I am protecting her from you!" Elijah snapped, turning around to face him directly, the two brothers standing chest-to-chest. "She is a sweet, innocent human, Niklaus! She does not need your bloody chaos dragging her down!"

"I have been perfectly gentlemanly!" Klaus snarled, stepping into Elijah’s space. "I buy her flowers every day! I have been on my absolute best behavior!"

"For three weeks! What happens next, Niklaus? Do you ruin her life like you've ruined everything else?!"

The two brothers began to argue furiously, trading ancient, bizarre family insults at the top of their lungs, completely ignoring you.

"Guys, stop!" you tried to interject, but they yelled over you.

"You ruined 14th-century Italy for me, Elijah!"

"You threw my favorite clothes in the Mississippi river, Niklaus!"

The sheer noise and drama filling your quiet, empty shop was overwhelming. You looked at your dead orchids. You looked at your ledger. You looked at these two grown men screaming like toddlers. A wave of pure, unadulterated anger washed over you.

You grabbed a heavy metal watering can from beneath the counter, slammed it down onto the glass display case with a deafening CRACK, and yelled at the top of your lungs:

"BOTH OF YOU, OUT!”

The Original vampires froze instantly. Klaus stopped mid-shout; Elijah’s mouth stayed open. They slowly turned to look at you. You were breathing heavily, pointing a trembling, furious finger at the front door.

"I don't care about your weird family baggage, and I certainly don't care about 14th-century Italy!" you snapped, your voice shaking with rage. "You are ruining my vibe, you are stressing out my remaining plants, and you are officially banned! Both of you! Get out of my shop right now!

"But y/n, love—" Klaus started, his eyes wide with comical panic.

"No! Out! Elijah, take your three-piece suit and go! Klaus, take your depressing roses and leave! I am closing early!"

Thoroughly chastised by a single human, the two terrifying, immortal creatures slowly backed toward the exit. Klaus shot Elijah a look of pure murder, and Elijah shot one right back, but they quietly pushed the door open and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

You marched over, flipped the sign to CLOSED, and slammed the lock into place.

An hour later, the anger had faded into exhaustion. You were sitting on the floor behind the counter, eating takeout noodles in the quiet shop, wondering how you managed to ban your only two paying customers.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

"We're closed!" you yelled.

"y/n. Please. It's Klaus." His voice was muffled through the glass, sounding uncharacteristically humbled and incredibly apologetic.

Sighing, you got up and opened the door just a crack.

Klaus was standing there alone. He had ditched his leather jacket and looked genuinely remorseful. In his arms, he wasn't holding the dark, gloomy roses. Instead, he was holding a massive, bright, vibrant arrangement of sunflowers and pink peonies.

Next to him on the sidewalk was a massive, expensive-looking professional espresso machine, a giant box of premium imported plant soil, and a literal sack of cash.

You stared at the items, then up at him. "What is all this?"

"An offering," Klaus said softly, giving you a tentative, sheepish smile. "Elijah sent the espresso machine and the soil. He felt terrible for insulting your business and wanted to help it succeed. The cash is from me—I want to buy out your entire inventory for the next six months." He held up the bright arrangement. "And these are because I realized the dark roses are far too gloomy for someone as bright as you."

You tried to keep a sharp face, but a small smile broke through. "Is your brother gone?"

"I threatened to dump him in the swamp if he followed me," Klaus admitted cheerfully. "But he did make me promise to tell you that he is paying for our dinner tonight to make up for his behavior. He approves... even if he's going to be annoyingly protective about it."

You stepped back, opening the door fully and letting him in. "Well. If Elijah is paying, I suppose I can lift the ban."

Klaus’s face lit up, his eyes sparkling with that dangerous, charming warmth. He handed you the sunflowers, his fingers brushing against yours.

"I promise, love," Klaus murmured, stepping into the shop, "no more shouting matches. Just you, me, and whatever restaurant my brother's credit card can afford."

"Good," you smiled, burying your face in the fresh flowers. "you're lucky you're cute, Niklaus Mikaelson."

By the child growing beneath your heart.

“You’re staring again.”

Your voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Klaus stood near the open balcony doors, coat hanging over one arm, his blue-green eyes fixed on you like he couldn’t bear to look away for longer than a second. Late afternoon sunlight poured over your body where you sat curled in the oversized velvet armchair near the fire.

Seven months pregnant.

Radiant.

His child.

His entire world.

“You’ve become terribly suspicious of me, love,” Klaus murmured, though there was no bite to it.

You snorted softly. “No. You’ve become terrifyingly obvious.”

One corner of his mouth twitched upward.

He crossed the room slowly, like a predator approaching something precious instead of prey. His gaze dropped instinctively to your stomach, watching the subtle movement beneath your dress.

The baby kicked again.

Klaus immediately dropped to his knees in front of you.

Not caring that he was an Original vampire feared across continents.

Not caring that kings had once bowed before him.

Nothing mattered when your hand slid into his curls and he pressed his palm against the swell of your belly.

Another kick hit his hand.

Klaus inhaled sharply.

That look crossed his face again.

That terrifying softness.

Pure awe.

“There she is,” he whispered reverently.

You smiled sleepily. “You say that every time.”

“Because every time feels like a miracle.”

The words came so quietly they almost broke your heart.

Klaus leaned forward, pressing a lingering kiss against your stomach through the fabric of your dress.

“My fierce little wolf,” he murmured. “Giving your mother trouble again?”

The baby kicked harder.

You hissed. “Ow—”

Klaus looked genuinely offended.

“She assaulted you.”

“She’s not even born yet, Niklaus.”

“She has your temperament already.”

“She has yours,” you argued immediately. “She becomes violent whenever anyone annoys her.”

Klaus looked deeply pleased by that.

The sound of sharp heels echoed through the hallway before Rebekah appeared dramatically in the doorway carrying several fabric samples.

“Oh good,” she sighed theatrically. “He’s still kneeling. I was worried the apocalypse had arrived.”

Klaus glared.

Rebekah ignored him completely as she swept toward you, dropping silk swatches over your lap.

“I’ve narrowed the bassinet lining to three choices,” she announced. “Cream silk, ivory satin, or this gorgeous lace imported from Paris.”

“Bekah,” you laughed weakly, “she’s a baby, not royalty.”

Rebekah looked horrified.

“She’s a Mikaelson. Same thing.”

Klaus finally stood, though he kept one possessive hand on your shoulder.

“I still despise leaving,” he muttered darkly.

Rebekah rolled her eyes so hard it was almost impressive.

“For God’s sake, Nik.”

“The Crescent meeting is important,” you reminded him gently. “You promised Jackson.”

“And I regret making promises.”

“You regret everything.”

“I do not regret you.”

The sincerity in his voice silenced the room.

Your expression softened instantly.

Klaus leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours for a lingering moment. “The city feels wrong tonight.”

You frowned slightly.

Klaus rarely admitted fear.

But lately his paranoia had become vicious.

The Strix had been moving quietly through New Orleans. Witches whispered in corners when they thought Klaus wasn’t listening. Old enemies had resurfaced now that the great hybrid finally had something vulnerable to lose.

A family.

You reached up, touching his jaw gently. “I’ll be fine.”

His eyes searched yours like he wanted to believe you.

“You call me if anything feels strange.”

“Nik—“

“Anything.”

Rebekah waved a dismissive hand. “I’ll be here. Marcel stationed guards outside. Freya layered protection spells around the compound. Honestly, the child hasn’t even been born yet and she already has more security than the bloody queen of England.”

Klaus still looked unconvinced.

You tugged him down by his collar until his lips met yours.

Slow.

Warm.

Lingering.

His hand immediately slid protectively around your stomach.

“Go,” you whispered against his mouth.

Klaus exhaled reluctantly.

Then another kick struck his hand.

He groaned softly. “She’s conspiring against me.”

“She already knows how dramatic you are.”

Rebekah gagged loudly. “Please leave before I stab one of you.”

Klaus finally pulled away with visible reluctance.

But before leaving, he crouched beside your chair one last time, pressing another kiss against your forehead.

“If she so much as sneezes—”

“I know,” Rebekah interrupted. “Call you immediately. You’ve only repeated it seventeen times.”

Klaus gave her a murderous glare before disappearing through the mahogany doors.

The peace lasted exactly forty-two minutes.

At first it was subtle.

A strange stillness.

The birds outside went silent.

Then—

BOOM.

The compound gates exploded inward with enough force to shake the entire estate.

You jolted violently in your chair.

Rebekah was on her feet instantly.

The scent hit seconds later.

Wolfsbane.

Blood.

Burned sage.

“Y/N,” Rebekah snapped, all softness gone, “get behind me. Now.”

Men flooded the courtyard.

Not vampires.

Not wolves.

Mercenaries.

Armed with dark objects pulsing with magic.

Behind them stood witches in ceremonial black robes chanting under their breath.

Rebekah launched forward with a scream.

She tore through the first attacker instantly, ripping his heart clean from his chest. Blood sprayed across marble floors.

Another man lunged.

Rebekah snapped his neck so hard his spine tore through skin.

“Pathetic,” she hissed.

But there were too many.

And they had come prepared.

Golden light suddenly erupted around Rebekah’s body.

A spell.

She screamed as glowing chains wrapped around her limbs, slamming her into the floor.

Her skin blistered instantly.

“Bekah!” you cried.

“RUN!”

You stumbled backward, panic surging violently through you. Your body was too heavy now, movements slower from pregnancy as you hurried toward the hidden tunnel entrance.

A hand grabbed your wrist.

You screamed.

One mercenary slammed you against the wall while another forced a cloth over your mouth.

The scent was chemical.

Sharp.

Sedative.

“No—!”

You fought viciously.

Kicked.

Scratched.

One hand instinctively shielded your stomach.

“Careful with the hybrid brat,” someone snarled.

Your blood went cold.

The baby kicked violently in distress.

Then—

A needle pierced your neck.

Everything blurred.

The last thing you heard was Rebekah screaming your name.

—

Klaus knew something was wrong before he even reached the compound.

The silence was unnatural.

No guards.

No movement.

No heartbeat.

Then he smelled blood.

His expression changed instantly.

Terrifyingly.

The front doors hung from broken hinges.

Bodies littered the entrance hall.

Klaus moved through the compound in a blur.

“Y/N!”

Nothing.

“REBEKAH!”

He found her collapsed against a pillar, trembling violently, magic burns crawling across her skin.

Klaus grabbed her shoulders. “Where is she?”

Rebekah looked shattered.

“Nik…”

His voice dropped into something inhuman.

“Where. Is. She.”

“They took her,” Rebekah choked out. “The witches—they had dark objects—I couldn’t move—”

The roar that ripped from Klaus shook the entire compound.

Windows exploded.

Paintings crashed from walls.

For one horrifying moment, Rebekah thought he might burn the entire city to ash.

Klaus’s face shifted violently into his hybrid form.

Eyes golden.

Veins blackened.

Fangs descended.

“Who,” he growled, “touched my family?”

—

The slaughter began an hour later.

Klaus tracked them through the city using your scent.

Fear.

Lavender.

Blood.

He found the first mercenary hiding in an abandoned church.

The man barely had time to look up before Klaus slammed him through the altar.

“You took something that belongs to me,” Klaus hissed.

“I—I don’t know where they took her—”

Klaus ripped off one of his arms.

The scream echoed through the church.

“Wrong answer.”

For the next twenty minutes Klaus became something ancient and monstrous.

He compelled confessions between screams.

Broke bones slowly.

Forced another attacker to watch while Klaus tore out his friend’s throat with his teeth.

One witch tried to cast a spell.

Klaus ripped her tongue from her mouth before she finished the incantation.

“Please,” another begged, sobbing.

Klaus crouched calmly in front of him, drenched in blood.

“My child could be dying.”

His voice cracked slightly.

That was somehow more horrifying than the screaming.

“So no,” Klaus whispered. “There is no mercy left in me tonight.”

By the time he got the location of the warehouse, half the docks were painted red.

—

The shipyard smelled like rust and death.

Klaus tore through the warehouse doors hard enough to splinter steel.

Bodies rushed him.

He slaughtered them without slowing down.

A heart ripped free.

A spine shattered.

Blood sprayed across concrete walls.

Then—

“Y/N!”

He heard your scream.

Klaus moved instantly.

The back office door exploded inward.

And the world stopped.

You lay curled on filthy blankets on the floor.

Blood pooled beneath you.

Your face was ghostly pale.

One trembling hand clutched your stomach while contractions wracked your body violently.

“Nik…” you gasped weakly.

Klaus dropped beside you so fast the floor cracked beneath his knees.

“Oh God.”

He gathered you carefully into his arms.

Your body was burning.

Shaking.

“The baby—” you sobbed. “Something’s wrong—she hurts—”

Klaus looked down.

Blood.

Too much blood.

Panic unlike anything he’d ever known ripped through him.

“No no no no—”

Your fingers gripped his shirt weakly. “Don’t let her die…”

Klaus pressed frantic kisses against your forehead.

“She won’t. Do you hear me? Neither of you will die tonight.”

Another contraction hit.

You screamed into his shoulder.

Klaus nearly lost control right there.

Someone behind him moved.

One surviving mercenary.

“You should’ve stayed dead,” Klaus snarled.

The man tried to crawl away.

Klaus stood slowly while still holding you in one arm.

Terrifying.

Blood-soaked.

Monstrous.

“You touched my wife.”

The mercenary sobbed. “Please—”

Klaus ripped his heart out without even looking.

Then he ran.

—

Freya transformed the nursery into a surgical room within minutes.

Candles burned across every surface.

Magic flooded the air.

You screamed again as another contraction tore through you.

Klaus never released your hand once.

Not once.

Even when your nails cut into his skin deeply enough to draw blood.

Even when Freya shouted instructions.

Even when Elijah tried to pull Klaus back because his panic was making the room shake.

“She’s crashing!” Freya yelled.

“No,” Klaus snapped instantly.

“Niklaus—”

“NO!”

Your heartbeat was weakening.

Klaus could hear it.

The baby’s too.

Terror destroyed him.

“I can save one,” Freya whispered desperately. “Maybe.”

Klaus looked like she’d stabbed him.

“You save both.”

“Nik—”

“BOTH!”

You cried out weakly, tears streaming down your face. “Niklaus…”

He immediately leaned over you.

“I’m here.”

“I’m scared.”

That nearly broke him completely.

Klaus pressed his forehead against yours, voice shaking violently. “Listen to me. You are not leaving me. Do you understand? I survived a thousand years before I met you, and every second of it was miserable. You do not get to leave me here alone now.”

You sobbed softly.

Another contraction hit.

Then—

A scream.

One final agonizing cry.

Silence.

Klaus stopped breathing.

And then—

A baby cried.

Tiny.

Fragile.

Perfect.

Klaus stared blankly for a moment like he couldn’t process the sound.

Then he heard a second heartbeat.

Yours.

Weak.

But alive.

His knees nearly gave out.

Freya laughed shakily through tears. “She’s alive.”

Klaus covered his face with trembling hands.

For the first time in centuries—

Niklaus cried.

—

When you woke hours later, firelight flickered softly across the bedroom walls.

Everything hurt.

But you were alive.

You turned your head slowly.

Klaus sat beside the bed still covered in blood.

He hadn’t changed clothes.

Hadn’t slept.

His eyes instantly snapped toward you the second your heartbeat shifted.

“Love?”

Your throat felt raw. “The baby…”

Klaus stood so fast the chair nearly toppled over.

“She’s alive.”

His voice cracked completely.

“She’s alive, sweetheart.”

Tears immediately filled your eyes.

Klaus leaned over the bed carefully, cradling your face in both hands.

“You terrified me,” he whispered shakily. “Do you know what I found in that warehouse? Do you know what seeing your blood did to me?”

“I’m sorry…”

“No.”

His voice turned fierce instantly.

“Never apologize for surviving.”

He kissed you desperately.

Slowly.

Like he needed to reassure himself you were real.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“I killed every single one of them,” he admitted quietly.

You blinked weakly.

Klaus’s eyes darkened.

“The witches begged. The mercenaries screamed. One tried to bargain.” His jaw clenched. “I made certain they understood exactly what happens to those who threaten my family.”

A strange softness returned when he looked at you again.

“But none of it mattered until I heard your heartbeat.”

A knock interrupted him.

Rebekah entered slowly holding a tiny bundle wrapped in white lace.

Her eyes were red from crying.

But she smiled shakily.

“Well,” she whispered, “look who finally decided to wake up.”

Your breath caught instantly.

The baby was impossibly small.

Dark hair.

Tiny fingers.

Blue eyes.

Klaus carefully helped you sit up before Rebekah placed her into your arms.

The second your daughter settled against your chest, the room felt complete.

Your baby sighed softly.

Klaus stared at her like she was divinity itself.

“She has your eyes,” you whispered.

“She has your strength.”

The baby suddenly grabbed Klaus’s finger.

He froze completely.

And you watched the most feared creature in the world utterly unravel.

“What shall we call her?” you whispered.

Klaus looked between you and the baby slowly.

His expression softened into something achingly vulnerable.

“Sylvie.”

The name sounded sacred on his tongue.

“Sylvie Mikaelson.”

You kissed the baby’s forehead gently.

“Sylvie,” you whispered lovingly. “Welcome home, little one.”

And for the first time in over a thousand years—

Niklaus Mikaelson finally understood what peace felt like.