Proving You Wrong

Klaus motioned absentmindedly, touching his glass for a moment. One of the remaining servers left over from the banquet (they did serve in other ways, after all) walked forwards immediately, refilling the emptied glass with fresh blood. He brought the ancient crystal—ancient heirlooms that he'd kept with him over the years—to his lips and sipped, rolling the liquid in his mouth and licking his teeth slowly so they wouldn't stain. He had, of course, taken blood in a manner less refined before, for the purpose of taunting Stefan for one, but over the course of the last thousand years he'd cultivated rather a high standard among all the things he did, feeding included.

He reclined on a chair facing the fire, though he did not feel it anyway, and stared into the leaping flames, contemplating the thoughts running through his mind as his hand moved of its own accord across the sheet of parchment. Actually, there was really only one thought currently occupying his attention; the girl, Caroline.

He liked to think that, as with all other things, his standards in women were also very high, so he didn't doubt his decision on that part. She was decidedly stunning, clever—far more than her companions gave her credit for, and had a streak of bravery that Klaus admired. When she spoke to him, she spoke without fear, differently than Stefan's bravado and Damon's defensive snarkiness. However, it was for that very reason that Klaus doubted himself. She was different. Independent. Frustrating. Challenging. Wearying. Intriguing. She had a depth to her that Klaus was sure even her friends really understood. She affected him more than anyone ever had, not since—

No, Klaus wouldn't think about her. Bringing it up callously at the dinner he'd shared with the Salvatore brothers had been one thing. Dwelling on Tatia was something else, something Klaus had learned the hard way not to be dwelled upon.

"What are you moping about now, Nicklaus?" drawled Kol, speaking mere inches from Klaus' ear. Klaus jumped slightly, shaken out of his thoughts. He turned to glare at Kol, annoyed that he hadn't heard him coming. Kol only grinned back and his eyes shot towards the parchment Klaus had been drawing on, in the next moment he had snatched it out from under Klaus' hand was examining it gleefully.

"Oh, a girl, is it, Nicklaus? And a pretty one at that! Don't tell me you fancy her," mocked Kol, letting the drawing go easily as Klaus whipped it out of his hands, tucking it in his jacket pocket with a scowl.

"When have I ever moped, Kol?" asked Klaus disdainfully, getting up from his seat to face Kol fully, tucking his hands into his pockets. "I believe that was your specialty, was it not? You never were good at sports to begin with, brother, yet you essayed them anyway. It really was rather pitiful every time Finn and I beat you."

"Brother, is it? Very well, brother, my past recreational activities aside, I couldn't help but notice that a certain blonde-haired lady very similar to the one you've drawn actually attended Mother's banquet tonight. Don't tell me you've got a soft spot for that wench, do you? Terribly mundane, nearly bit my tongue off when I asked for a dance. You can do better, I'm sure." Kol smirked and leaned against the fireplace mantel, Klaus could read the taunt in his eyes.

"I haven't got a soft spot for anybody," snapped Klaus dismissively. "And the fact that she rejected you already proves her worth, does it not?" Klaus tried to ignore the small flicker of satisfaction that those words gave him.

Kol leered at Klaus eagerly. "And you think it's because of you? I distinctly remember her saying something about a Tyler—such a common name—and never once did she mention you. How's it feel to be bested by a human, brother?" He spoke the words almost gloatingly.

Tyler. A surge of annoyance raced through Klaus at the name. He really would have to do something about the boy soon.

"Hybrid," corrected Klaus. "Not a human."

"Bested by your own creation!" crowed Kol, clearly delighted about the livid look on Klaus' face. "Even better!"

Klaus growled and bared his teeth, racing forwards to push Kol against the brick fireplace by his throat. There was a split second's pause before Klaus felt Kol push back and now it was Klaus who was pressed against the mantle. Their struggle lasted for a few seconds before Klaus finally shoved Kol away, who staggered away hard, though he managed to stay upright.

"What's wrong, Nic?" taunted Kol, breathing heavily. "After all this time that you've been alone, you've finally found a girl that you haven't managed to kill that wasn't your own goddamn sister! Too bad she wouldn't look twice at freak like you!" When Klaus growled again, Kol only bared his teeth in a grotesque imitation of a grin. "Angry at the truth, are you? Because you are a freak, Nicklaus, you're a child with mommy issues and an attachment complex. Who'd ever want someone like you?"

Kol's words were agonizingly similar to Caroline's words, though infinitely more hurtful. Anger and betrayal raced through Klaus and he took a step forward menacingly, glaring openly.

"Take it back," Klaus demanded.

Kol snorted. "Or what? You'll dagger me? Wipe out your family every time they piss you off?" Kol shook his head mockingly. "Face it, brother, you just can't admit to your mistakes, and until you do you'll have no one to stand behind you—or with you." He strode out of the drawing room, leaving Klaus infuriated and alone.

Klaus reached into his pocket and pulled out his drawing. He stared at the girl that looked back up at him—the drawing had turned out well. Frustration and a desire to prove Kol wrong surged though him.

He quickly found another jewellery box like the one he'd left the bracelet in and tucked his drawing inside, tying a knot around it expertly. He walked out of his house determinedly.

He'd prove Kol's words wrong.

He'd prove Caroline wrong, too.