#klatia

TVDU AO3 Data 𖤓 Top Twenty Klaus Ships for Anon

Hi and thanks for leaving feedback <3

I get your criticism.

I always felt like Katherine knows about her previous Doppelgänger's involvement with the Mikaelsons but she probably doesn't know how close they were (and if Katherine were to find out, she'd probably freak).

Surprisingly though, Klaus', Elijah's & Rebekah's involvement with Tatia was already brought up in season 3 of TVD where they made remarks about her and hinted at their connection to her.

Nonetheless, Elijah's and Klaus' involvement with Tatia never bothered me personally, because it's a) something clearly left in the past, there were no romantic feelings towards Tatia in the present (unlike Damon for example who mourned Katherine until she re-appeared), and b) it didn't matter in 1492 when they first met Katherine because their interest in her was solely because of her blood (unlike Stefan & Damon who firstly only were interested in Elena because she looked like Katherine).

My intention behind bringing up that flashback scene of Klaus/Elijah talking about Tatia was to show that Klaus played a game with Elijah even back in the 1490s. Tatia never returned Klaus' feelings or attention and instead clearly and without a doubt chose Elijah (unlike Katherine/Stefan/Damon and Elena/Stefan/Damon). In Klaus's eyes, Elijah took Tatia away from him although there were clearly no feelings or hints at Tatia's side. In Klaus's eyes, Tatia was probably 'his' (in a romantic kind of aspect). I feel like it wouldn't even have mattered if Tatia & Katherine hadn't looked alike because, in Klaus' eyes, Katherine has been his (his Doppelgänger to break his curse, etc. but no romantic aspect). So when he started to see that Elijah developed a liking to Katherine (and believe me Klaus did, hence why he accused Elijah of letting Katherine escape) he loved to possess Katherine. To him, she was a means to an end anyway but he enjoyed having control over her and he loved it to rub it in Elijah's face that she's 'his' and that he can't have her. One could say he loved to taunt Elijah with it.

Power is something that Klaus loves, no matter what kind of power over what. Power over the supernatural world, power over a city, power over his siblings, etc. Klaus has his personal reasons why he hates Katherine (although I think he admires her wit) but he also indulges in knowing he has power over Elijah as long as he has power over Katherine and I wanted to show that Klaus knew exactly what he did when Klaus denied Elijah a future with Katherine.

Elijah thought he had been careful. Niklaus’ ears really were that much more keen, just keen enough to hear the rustle of leather and paper and shoes on a library carpet. 

His brother was framed in the light of the hallway, suddenly, and just as quickly as his feet had carried him, his brow quirked at a supernatural speed to see him standing there, parchment in hand. 

Klaus made to speak, but something stopped his mouth. Elijah could not move, could not breathe, in the scramble to find some excuse that would not require an ounce of the truth. 

“I wanted to show Marcel a -- the -- that text, about...” 

Klaus took several steps forward as Elijah spoke, slowly, somewhere between stalking and soothing in his gait. “About...?” 

His brother’s eyes scanned the table, the animal skins near to dust in age and the careful archival binding he himself had compelled an expert to perform. These were not texts. These were not for Marcel. Elijah watched the confusion bloom in Klaus’ face and felt as though the weakness he felt, heavy and ugly and tight, was filling the room and choking his vestigial breath. 

“What could Marcel possibly want with...” Klaus reached and brushed his fingers over the air atop a drawing of Rebekah, young and smiling and small and human. “With any of this?” 

Klaus looked back up to Elijah, and realized there was anguish in his eyes. “Elijah?” 

Elijah smoothed his hair and smoothed his slacks. Smoothed his hair again. “I know -- I know you drew her. Often. And I wanted... I didn’t want to ask. I couldn’t. Ask you.” 

Klaus saw faces of his family on the table, and knew that the pages beneath would hold sketches of brooks and livestock and neighbors and not a single one would depict a woman with wild brown hair, and fire-brown eyes, and a mouth that cut and kissed like no other. He nearly fell into the chair beside him, staring over Elijah’s shoulder at memories he had not wanted to archive. 

it seems like once again you’ve had to greet me with goodbye;

― 

a/n: Klaus-centric, writing this was very painfulbut beautiful experience and I hate how TO keeps killing off so many women :’(

― 

He loved Tatia like he loved the rain.

Soft, wet, humid and sometimes- a storm. She can go from tinkles of slow and cascading droplets, rivuletssinking down skin, feeding the planet, making the leaves grow and the flowersbloom. This girl was like delicate little raindrops on a summer’s day.

Although, her lips are like spring’s heaviness.Moist and deep plum - like a trembling war song.  

He was human back then, sovery innocent and brave. he loved with all his heart - with all his might.

Inanother timeline, she’s alive. so unrepentantly alive. Everything tastes likeripe mangoes and freshly squeezed lemons. Klaus’ life is like a dream halved,after her, he explores cities & people. His knees tremble. His heart floatsin his mouth. There is too much fire for flesh to contain. 

(The day Tatia is buried,there is thunder and lightning. And Klaus is reminded just how destructiverainstorms can be. He cries at her funeral, tears in his eyes mixing with thecruel weather wrecking havoc above him.

He vows that from now on, hewill hate the rain).

― 

He loved Aurora like he loved the stars.

Scattered and sparse -  asickle shaped smile when the planets pass in between them. He sees her and shemakes him paint portraits of rosy pink flowers, Apollo’s skin, damaged andbroken but with vines growing out of his spine. Klaus’ art becomes love in theform of paints and brushstrokes.

(Her fingers feel likefeathers being tickled down the line of his throat. She could break him if shewanted to - he recognizes this early on in his short time with him.

So instead, he breaks her).

Ancient April blood showers over him like speckledfire balls – he sees cold glimpses of violent winters, snow storms andfaithless worship. The girl is dead flecks of gold on his rises, dreamy Sundayson his skin, empty bedroom walls, cherry coke, throats like the bodies of thoseconquered by Zeus himself ―

Anyway, he hates the starstoo. 

― 

He loved Camille like he loved the sun.

Her memories vibrate likechords - like the barbed wire that wraps from ankle to wrist. He doesn’t knowmuch about love, not since he’s become a monster. But he knows, that out of allthe stars, he loved the sun best. He doesn’t forget, as it hangs above him, ashe bleeds ― 

He still loved the blondehuman girl the best. And when her mouth calls for God, her fist shatter hischest.

Because, for centuries, hethought himself ruler of this world. He even built himself kingdoms and wallsso high, he swears that no one could break them. And to think, that this young,small, human girl could destroy his dead heart.

Well, that was just turmoil.

It was like waking up at 6 amand having gardens somewhere within. Where the beautiful jonquils have turnedinto weeds - where the final remnants of his humanity are just fucking smashedbecause she dies.

She fucking dies at sunset.Like a tragedy - like a train wreck.

(And even in this stillness,he still cannot bring himself to hate the sun).

― 

He loved Hayley like he loved the moon. 

Like he loved slow mornings.His mouth burned into a ruddy pigmentation of desire, trading his blood forinstant coffee with her - for always forgetting to kiss her goodbye. Remindinghim of the peanut shells she left scattered around the room, light tracing theback of her neck, her smile warm, her skin warmer. 

Hayley is silver glitter onhis spine. The gash in his cheek. His hands digging into her grave.

He knows he always searchesfor love in broken places, but this time – he thought maybe it will last.Maybe, he had a shot at happiness.

Because you see, the mother of his daughter wasthe strongest woman he had ever known. Half vampire, half wolf, and a full-onvolcano. The moment she stepped in to his life, he knew that no one could breakher down.

Except for herself.

(When he sees her for the last time, stars collide in his ribcage, dried up roots growan audience of flowers in his chest, in the heatof the moment, he remembers herdifferently – bloody and bruised.

He cries.

The moon truly isthe loneliest of them all).

Klavika: Just get a pair of rollerskates and hang onto my sleeve, we don't have all day.

Source: Tumblr

Portia belongs to @gimmethescience