#*prompted

t r i a l  b y  f i r e  :  A  K C  S O U L M A T E S   A U

When Klaus got off of the plane from NOLA, he was not looking for Her. 

After a millenium of walking the earth, he’d learned to ignore all the whispered rumors of werewolves having “soulmates”. As a Mikaelson, he lived by “family above all” and was content to sideline any notions of predestined romance.

Kol had heard rumors of a local clan of desert witches that had been blessed by the ancestors with a secret weapon. Expecting little more than spilling some witches blood and returning home with a powerful new artifact for their family archives, Klaus felt confident enough to ignore the strange magnetic pull that grew stronger as he traversed through the sandstone canyons.

Hours passed before he was able to find a single living soul, which made it even more surprising to finally come face to face with the source of the pull he had been feeling. Not a clan of witches, or some ancient grimoire, but a woman.

Blonde, stunning, and radiating with barely contained power. She stood before him, framed by the light of the sun, and something inside of him settled. 

As he stilled, using the moment to truly appreciate her fire, Klaus decided that despite leading him astray with bad weapons information Kol's liver would be spared.

Those trees you planted as children, ah, those trees are long since too heavy for you to bear. But the spaces . . . but the windy air . . .

- rainer maria rilke, sonnets to orpheus: sonnet i,4 (x)