Set in the boyking!Klaus AU
Niklaus challenges Mikael to a duel.
Mikael accepts, half scornful and half pleased for the boy to display such mettle.
They meet on the edge of the woods, blades in hand. Mikael scoffs at his lean son, who still stands a full head shorter than him. He holds his sword with the clumsy, tenuous grip of a novice.
It will be a short fight.
âAre you here to prove your worth to me, boy?â
Niklaus smiles, though he must know he is outmatched. âWhy would I want to do that? No. I thought we could have some father-son time.â He runs his blade against Mikaelâs, edge along edge. Not an attack. Hardly even a testâit is a tease.
Fury rears in Mikaelâs chest at such arrogance. The boy has never known his place. âYou ought to do as youâre told. Instead of spending all day off gallivanting with your brother.â
âLijah? Why should I? He wouldnât know what to do without me. He loves me.â He begins prowling in a slow circle, blade held level and at the ready. Mikael mimics his movements.
But Niklaus seems to have little interest in the fight itself. âYou know what I mean, donât you Father? He loves me. He loves every part of me. He loves the taste of me.â A wide smirk stretches across his lips.
Mikaelâs steps falter. He nearly stumbles.
Niklaus knows just how to get under his skin. Knows just what to say, to inspire shock and revulsion.
âSuch filth,â he hisses. âYou ought to be ashamed.â No child of his should speak that way and not suffer for it. âI should cut that filthy tongue from your mouth.â
âSee if you can manage it, Mikael.â Niklaus runs said tongue over his teeth, a lewd gesture. âI donât imagine Elijah would be too pleased.â
âElijah?â Mikael scoffs. In spite of Niklausâs obsession with his brother, this faith seems misplaced. âWhat can he do?â
âFor me?â Niklaus smiles widely. Wickedly. âHeâd do anything. He tells me so every night.â
Mikael tries not to think about what his devil child is implying. âHe is a good son.â
âOh, Father. So naive. He would bleed for me. Kill for me. I think he would die for me.â He whips his blade out suddenly, clanging against Mikaelâs with an unexpected ferocity. âWould he die for you? Does he tell you that at night, as he holds you?â
His pale eyes glitter with malice.
Mikael lunges at him. Sloppily, he knows. Niklaus sidesteps him easily. But his fury is so greatâblood pounds through his head, clouding his vision and clubbing his limbs.
Niklaus has not stopped smirking, completely unrattled by Mikaelâs anger. âHe belongs to me, Mikael. If he had to choose between us, do you honestly think he would choose you?â
Mikael lunges again, and misses again. His sword glances off of Niklausâs. Niklaus casually flicks a strand of hair off his forehead.
He should be cowering. Apologizing. Swearing to be better. Instead, Mikaelâs anger only amuses him.
Niklaus tilts his head, mockingly thoughtful. âIf both of us were lying here bleeding, who do you think he would choose to save? Admit it, Father.â His lips drip with sweet honeyed poison. âYou donât have him. You never did.â
Mikael tries to ignore the grain of icy dread growing inside him. If he cannot control his own children, then what is he worth?
His next words are so naked, so unguarded, so weak, it almost turns his stomach. âWhat do you want from him?â
âJustâŠhim.â Niklaus has abandoned even the pretense of fighting. He stares past Mikael and speaks in a slow, measured voice. âI want him to see me, and only me. I want my touch to be the only thing he feels. I want him to feel sick when heâs not with me. I want his smiles to be because of me alone. I want him, every part of him, to belong to me.â
He looks Mikael in the eye, certainty scorching his gaze. âWhat do I want from him, Father? I want his everything. And I have it. If I asked him to leave with me, today, he would.â
âAnd if I asked,â Mikael replies icily, and not as sure and certain as he would like to be, âour entire family would follow me to hunt you down.â
âAre you sure about that, Father? Do you truly have the loyalty of our family, that they would follow your every command?â
âMy wife,â Mikael says tightly, âhas raised our children to be obedient. Aside from the single abomination before me, she has succeeded.â
âOh, please.â Mockery laces his words. âMother puts up with your temper tantrums, but even she has a limit. Whose blind loyalty do you have? Not Finnâs. He is Motherâs sycophant. Kol is her protĂ©gĂ©e in magic. Rebekah loves me through her fear. And ElijahâŠletâs just say if he had to choose between you and meâŠâ He scoffs. âFather, all you have is little Henrik.â
He smiles blithely, as if he has not laid bare every fear Mikael harbors about his family. âSo what do you have, Mikael. Other than some harsh words and your fists?â
Mikael makes good use of those fists, ramming one into Niklausâs ribs while the other clips under his jaw, sending him reeling backward into a tree trunk. He grunts in satisfaction.
Niklaus leans casually against the tree, looking entirely unshaken. Unimpressed. âHonestly. All this talk of me being an abominationâa beast. Here you are, growling and lunging like a pathetic caged animal. Maybe itâs you who is the beast.â
âStop.â Mikaelâs teeth are clenched. He holds his blade toward Niklaus, ready to strike. Hoping his son wonât notice how white his knuckles are on the hilt.
âTell me, Father. Do you hate yourself so much youâd bestow that title on your most hated childâbecause Iâm everything you fear?â
With a yell, Mikael drives his sword through Niklausâs shoulder, pinning him to the tree like an animal. Like an insect.
Blood wells and spills from the wound, staining his sonâs clothes. Staining his blade.
He exhales in satisfaction. âLet that be a lesson to you.â
Niklaus looks coolly down at the hole in his shoulder. âWhat exactly have you taught me?â No hint of pain or fear or shame.
âTo leave my son alone.â Please. Let him be. Leave this place. Or better yet, just die right here.
âWith this wound? Unlikely.â He opens his mouth and screamsâa sound of pure agony. It clangs in Mikaelâs head like the tedious cries of a wounded, dying beast.
But Niklaus isnât dying. He smiles gleefully at Mikael through a trickle of blood in his mouth. âHeâll be here soon. Heâll know my pain. Heâll know who caused it.â
He leans forward, heedless of how the bloodstain darkens on his shirt with the movement. âAnd heâll make it go away.â
And then Elijah is there, all but shoving Father aside to reach Niklaus, who whines in pain for his brother.
Neither of them pay Mikael any notice as he demands they separate, that Elijah let Niklaus deal with the consequences of the duel alone.
His blade is lodged in Niklausâs shoulder, now useless to him. Elijah is deaf to his orders.
Truly, all he has are harsh words and his fists.
Though the duel is over with an indisputable outcome, Mikael cannot convince himself he has won.
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