CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
A NEW BEGINNING

"When I give, I give myself."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

     Hayley's safe-house was in the middle of nowhere, far from the road and surrounded by endless trees. Henrik couldn't get a good look at it until the next morning. It was two stories, not counting the basement and the attic, with more than enough bedrooms for all of them. Hayley clearly chose the house with their family in mind, even stocking it with clothes, suitcases, and very illegal passports. Henrik explored the house while Francis showered, mapping it out in his mind before he joined his siblings out on the wrap-around porch, where they were enjoying breakfast. Rebekah handed him a mimosa the second he stepped out the door. Henrik thought about draining it, but then decided against it.

There was a nervous energy surrounding everyone on the porch. Even Francis had it when he eventually came out to join them, hair ( now black, the blonde dye leaking out over the years ) still damp from the shower. He didn't say anything as he grabbed a mimosa, but he settled so close beside Henrik that their arms brushed. Henrik was relieved by it. Francis had said very little since their run-in with Marcel, either too deep in thought or too deep in memories, but at least he wasn't pulling away physically. It reassured Henrik that the silence wasn't because of him.

"What's the holdup?" Kol demanded, always the first one to break under his own nerves. Henrik held in a sigh and took a sip of his drink. "We rescued Nik, we rescued the handsome vampire, we cured Cami, we escaped mortal danger." Henrik idly wondered if Kol had seen the piece of paper that had appeared in small flames in the living room late last night, detailing that Henrik's spell had worked and Cami was alright. Henrik hadn't mentioned it, wary of mentioning Vincent's name in front of Klaus. He supposed now he didn't have to. "Why are we not on a private jet to Saint-Tropez?"

"You keep calling me handsome," Francis drawled, his first words since he got out of bed that morning. Henrik turned his head to look at him, smiling when he saw that Francis had his head tilted as he looked at Kol. "Are you trying to flatter me?" Kol gave Francis a flat look.

"Charming," he said, unimpressed. "Truly." With that, he reached forward and plucked the newspaper Elijah had been reading out of his hands, folding it as Elijah stayed in the same position just for dramatic effect, hands still raised like he was holding the paper. Henrik hid his amused smile by taking another drink. "You can catch up on the last five years when we're on our way. I can assure you haven't missed much."

"Well, I wouldn't say that," Henrik mused, twirling his mimosa around the glass. A lot of things had changed over the five years. It was 2019, technology had evolved immensely, and the state of the world seemed to be falling to pieces. He didn't mention any of that, though, just flatly said, "That orange fool is president." There was a small huff of amusement from beside him, the slightest nudge of an elbow against his arm, and Henrik smiled into his mimosa again.

"Circumstances have changed," Elijah said, directing the words to the whole family, who seemed to be waiting for him to make the decision, though it seemed to be a subconscious thing. They were all so used to looking at Elijah for answers, even Francis, that they all did it now, even though they all had differing opinions on the subject at hand. "We will leave here soon enough."

"We have our niece to consider," Rebekah added softly, glancing toward the front door of the house. On top of Marcel, they were also anxious about meeting Hope, who was now seven years old and could actually think for herself. It was nerve-wracking.

"It would be nice to rest for a day," Henrik added. "We haven't stopped moving for days. It would be nice to slow down for a bit."

"Kol has a point," Freya argued. "We need to put an ocean between us and Marcel Gerard as soon as possible."

"We can sacrifice one day, Freya," Henrik said, already feeling tired. "We're safe here, and Marcel let us go. I doubt he's going to spend eternity hunting each of us down. He has more important things to do. Besides," Henrik sighed, lowering his voice, "he loves New Orleans far too much to leave it."

"He's right," Klaus announced, finally letting them know his stance. Henrik was surprised it had taken him so long to speak up, considering his daughter was involved. "We're not going anywhere today. I want one day of peace with my daughter before we uproot her." Francis shifted then. Henrik turned his head to look at him, watching with a small frown as Francis twisted around to rest his elbows on the porch banister, looking out across the yard. Henrik watched him for a moment, slightly concerned, before he looked at his siblings again.

"Any delay is a risk," Freya pointed out, spiking Klaus's temper.

"One day," Klaus snapped. Francis let out a soft sigh beside him. Henrik wasn't sure if it was because of Klaus's predictable behavior or something he was thinking, and part of him was too afraid to ask. "We're in the middle of nowhere, the house is cloaked, we weren't followed, and I'm not asking!"

It was at that precise moment that the door opened and Hayley stepped out, Hope hovering close to her side. Everyone on the porch immediately snapped their mouths shut. Francis even straightened from his position and turned to look at her. Hope didn't look any of them in the eye, keeping her gaze averted and making sure to stay close to her mother. Her hair was an auburn color, making Henrik tilt his head and shoot a curious glance at both Hayley and Klaus's hair. He had never noticed the tints of red in their hair until then.

"Everybody," Hayley said after a tense moment of silence, clearing her throat and plastering on a smile. She had her hands firmly on Hope's shoulders, offering a little bit of comfort. "Look who's awake."

"H-Hello," Hope stuttered, glancing up for a split second before ducking her eyes back to the floor of the porch.

"Hello," Klaus said gently, voice so soft that it sent Henrik spiraling back a thousand years, when they were all still human and he used to comfort Henrik and Rebekah through harsh storms and Mikael's rages. Henrik drowned the rest of his mimosa in an attempt to hide the expression on his face, smoothing it out by the time the glass was empty.

"Mom," Hope whispered after a moment, nervous under the gaze of so many family members—or, in Hope's mind, strangers. Henrik tapped his fingernail against the glass, only stopping when a hand covered his own. He glanced at Francis, who was looking at Hope with a thoughtful expression, and stopped the tapping. "Can I go play in the garden?"

"Yeah," Hayley said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders once. "Yeah, sweetie, go ahead." With one last glance sent over them, Hope ran off the porch. There was another moment of tense silence when she was gone. Klaus was the most affected by it, letting out a harsh sigh through his nose, shoulders stiff and jaw clenched. Henrik couldn't think of a single thing to say to comfort him, so he was surprised when Francis did.

"Don't take it personally," he said quietly, making everyone on the porch turn to him in surprise. He didn't even notice. He was too busy looking out at the yard, where Hope was chasing a butterfly. "She doesn't know you. She's just being shy right now. Give her time." Clearing his throat, Francis drained the rest of his drink before excusing himself, placing the empty glass on the table as he went back into the house. Henrik watched him go with a frown. After a beat of silence—Henrik was starting to get tired of all the silences lately—the family dispersed into smaller groups, talking to each other in quiet voices. Kol found himself next to Henrik, who was balancing the empty glass on the porch banister, tired of holding it.

"He's been awfully quiet," Kol commented, voice as casual as ever. He didn't say a name, but Henrik knew who he was referring to. He held in a sigh. "I don't remember him being like that before, but then, five years is quite a long time to be in a hole. Though hardly comparable to decades in a coffin." Henrik shot Kol a dark look, making it known he was treading on thin ice. Surprisingly, he heeded the warning and changed the subject. "Should you, perhaps, go after him?"

"No. He wants to be alone." Even though Henrik wasn't quite sure about that, the words came out regardless. The problem was that he didn't know what Francis wanted. This was uncharted territory. Usually it was Henrik who was upset, and Henrik always wanted space, so he automatically assumed that was what Francis wanted, too. He wasn't too sure now. "He's been desiccated for five years. The least I could do is give him space if he needs it."

"And does he need it?" Kol asked, much to Henrik's annoyance, if only because he was thinking the same question. "Or are you just projecting? You do have a habit of doing that." Henrik sighed then, dramatically loud, and Kol grinned. "I'm just saying that maybe he likes being chased after when he's upset. It's worth a try. Unless you're afraid of what he's going to say when he inevitably stops being so quiet."

"He lost five years of his life just because he was with me," Henrik burst out, unable to bite the words back. He'd been thinking it for five years, just with varying differences depending on what he knew. It all came back to one single thought: It was his fault Francis was a target.

"Well, you're right on that," Kol sighed, earning a disbelieving glare from Henrik, who had expecting something at least a little kinder than that as a response. Kol flashed him a wide smile. "If it weren't for you, I reckon Francis would have died a long time ago. Honestly, Henrik, it astounds me how self-deprecating you actually are. I would have thought my narcissism would have rubbed off on you by now."

"I have plenty of narcissism in me, I assure you," Henrik drawled in a flat tone, rolling his eyes. "What are you going on about, anyway?"

"Marcel kept him alive because of you," Kol said. "Or, rather, for you, depending how you look at it. You always were his favorite." Kol sounded bitter at that, making Henrik snort. "Anyway, the point still stands. Francis wouldn't have been alive to desiccate for those five years if it weren't for you. If he turns around and blames you for it now, then perhaps remind him that his heart still beats because of you, and not in spite of it." Henrik let out another sigh.

"I'll pass on being emotionally manipulative with the love of my life," he drawled, voice even flatter. "Thanks for the suggestion, though." Kol's eyebrows shot up at that.

"Love of your life," he murmured, sounding thoughtful. "Now, that's something I never thought I would hear. And here I thought you deserved better." Henrik raised an eyebrow. In his mind, Henrik thought Francis was the best he was ever going to get, but he was also incredibly biased. He shook his head.

"You don't think anyone is good enough for me," Henrik said with a scoff, pushing away from the banister. He considered going inside to talk to Francis, but he had something else he wanted to do before that, turning his head to look out into the yard. Hope was at a wooden table, drawing with crayons and markers. A smile pulled at his mouth. Without bothering to excuse himself, Henrik descended from the porch and made his way across the yard. Hope's drawing didn't slow, though she did glance up when she heard his footsteps in the grass. He stopped a few feet away from her, not wanting to crowd her, and smiled when he saw she was drawing a dragonfly.

"Hi," Henrik greeted gently. The sound of his voice made Hope stop drawing and put her crayon down. She glanced up at him with a curious expression. "Do you know who I am?" It took Hope a few moments to answer.

"Yes," she said, hand pulling at a chain around her neck until the necklace was on the outside of her shirt. "You're Uncle Henrik. You gave me this." She cupped the necklace in her hands and raised it so he could see. He grinned when he realized it was the pendant he had given her for Christmas five years ago. He hadn't bothered asking Hayley if she had kept it.

"Has it helped you?" Hope nodded, the movement fast and jerky. It made Henrik smile wider. He motioned to the empty chair at the table. "Mind if I sit?" Hope shrugged then, picking up her crayon and going back to drawing. Henrik took it as a yes and sat down. He didn't know quite what to say. He was better with babies than he was actual children, better with rocking chairs than he was crayons. Hope seemed to sense that, because she glanced up at him again.

"Where's Uncle Francis?" she asked, completely throwing off Henrik's train of thought. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"He's..." Henrik blinked a few times and cleared his throat. Hope calling Francis her uncle made things abundantly clear in his mind, things revolving their future and what would happen when they left the safe-house. "He's inside."

"Oh." Hope frowned and reached for a blue crayon. Henrik picked it up and handed it to her when it was clear she couldn't reach it from where she was sitting. "Mom said you and Aunt Freya are going to teach me magic when I'm older." Henrik paused at that as well, shooting a glance down at the bracelet wrapped around Hope's wrist, which immobilized her magic as long as she wore it. He didn't think Hayley was going to let her take it off anytime soon.

"If that's what you want," Henrik said after a moment, looking back at her face. "I'd be happy to teach you everything I know. It's quite a lot, though. Might be a lot to handle, kid." Hope's chin jerked up at that, making Henrik have to bite back a laugh.

"I can handle it," she declared, much to Henrik's amusement. Hope watched him for a moment, looking a bit too determined for someone her age, before her expression faltered. Her next frown was a sad one. "Are you going to leave?" Henrik stared at her, completely bewildered, before he was forced to clear his throat again.

"Why would you ask that, Hope?" he asked. Hope shrugged.

"Just a feeling," she admitted, making Henrik frown and tilt his head. Intuition was always in a witch's blood, but never so strong in someone so young. Henrik knew she was no ordinary witch, knew she had the potential to grow stronger than him one day, but the fact that she was so strong already unnerved him. "Uncle Francis seems sad, and I know that makes you sad, too." Henrik opened his mouth to tell her he wasn't sad, but stopped when she continued. "I don't want anyone to be sad."

"My sweet girl," Henrik said softly, reaching to hold her hands. "I'm not sad, I promise. I'm just...worried. I suppose I should talk to Francis about that." Hope immediately nodded, a smile lighting up her face.

"Mom said if something's bothering me, I should always talk to her about it, because talking helps." Hope pulled her hands out of Henrik's, shifting in her chair to face him fully, her drawing completely forgotten. "Mom said that Uncle Francis isn't actually my uncle, not really, but she said he's going to be around a lot so I could call him uncle if I wanted. Is he your boyfriend?" Henrik laughed out loud at the way she said it, at how she lowered her voice like it was something scandalous. "Do you love him like Mom loves Uncle Elijah?"

"Did your mother tell you that," Henrik asked, grinning, "or are you just a good guesser?"

"I'm seven," Hope stated, "not stupid." Henrik laughed again.

"Yes, you most certainly are not." Hope beamed at that. "And yes, sweet girl, I do love Francis. Very much."

"Good," Hope said with a nod, turning back to her drawing. "That means you'll be happy soon."

"I am happy," Henrik reassured. "Seeing you all grown up and safe makes me happy. Being worried doesn't mean I can't be happy, too." That made him think of Klaus, whose worry was palpable across the yard. Henrik could feel his gaze on his back. "Your dad is worried too, worried that you won't like him. That doesn't mean he's not happy to see you. Don't be afraid to spend time with him. I promise he loves you more than anything." Hope was quiet for a moment, then surprised him when she jumped out of her chair and rounded the table. Henrik barely caught her when she launched herself at him, laughing when she hugged him as tightly as she could. When she let him go, her cheeks were red.

"Can..." She kicked at the grass. "Can you get him please?"

"Of course." He leaned over to plant a kiss on her head before he got to his feet and started back toward the house, where Klaus was waiting. Henrik raised his eyebrows as he climbed the stairs. "Just go to her, Nik. She's not that scary, I promise." Klaus scowled at him.

"Shut up," he muttered, making Henrik laugh as he brushed past him. Everyone was scattered throughout the house. He could hear Rebekah and Kol in the kitchen, either getting into the alcohol stored there or draining the compelled human dry. He assumed Elijah was off with Hayley, and Freya was probably off to get more venom from Keelin, who was being kept in the shed, out of sight from Hope. It didn't exactly sit well with Henrik—he had a lot of time to think about how his family treated people while in the Chambre de Chasse and he didn't think making another enemy was wise—but Freya seemed to be on a warpath and Henrik also thought it was wise to stay out of her way. Instead, he climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom Francis and Henrik had claimed. He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob, then knocked twice with a knuckle, not knowing if Francis wanted to be alone or not.

When he didn't hear a response, he frowned and pushed inside, only to see Francis sprawled out on the very unmade bed, spread-eagled and taking up most of the space. His eyes were closed, and even from his space near the door, Henrik could hear the music blaring in his ears. His phone was on the bedspread. Henrik couldn't unplug the headphones, since they were wireless—Hayley had left the present for Francis outside their door, and Henrik would never forget how Francis's face brightened when he saw it that morning—so he picked up his new phone. He didn't turn off the music, but he did turn it down. When he glanced up, he saw Francis looking at him, his head turned slightly. His face was unreadable, much like it had been all morning, and Henrik frowned again.

He opened his mouth to ask Francis if he could sit, only for Francis to shift slightly to the side, leaving him enough room to stretch out beside him, though he was still hogging most of the bed. Henrik didn't hesitate to take the spot, settling on his stomach and letting himself smile when Francis plucked one of the wireless headphones from his ear and wedge it into his own. Henrik's eyes fluttered shut at the soft sound of a piano in the song. It was in Korean, but Henrik didn't mind not knowing what the artist was saying. The singing was nice and emotional, and the piano made his body relax. That was enough. They listened until the last note of the piano faded away. Henrik waited for the next song to start playing, eyes still closed, but opened his eyes when he felt the bud pulled from his ear. He watched as Francis pulled his own out of his ear and set them on the bedspread, eyes tracing the side of his face, the subtle changes he barely caught. His mouth was opening before he could really think it through.

"Do you still love me?" he asked before he could stop himself. A lump formed in his throat right after he asked the question, and he sat up before Francis could even turn his head to look at him in bewilderment. Feeling embarrassed—and also dreading the answer—he turned his gaze to the window of the room. The curtains were pulled back, a small blue bird on the windowsill. Henrik watched it sit there for a moment as Francis slowly pulled himself into a sitting position.

The only reason he managed to pull his gaze back to him was because Francis actually had the nerve to laugh. It was a small thing, tinted with nerves, but the happiness behind it was obvious. It was the first genuine laugh he'd given since they'd reunited.

"Of course we've been worrying about the same thing," Francis murmured once he noticed Henrik's questioning look. "We should have talked this morning. This is getting ridiculous." Henrik stared at him for a frozen moment, briefly believing that Francis was worrying if he still loved Henrik too, and then Henrik understood. A moment later, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"Why in the world would you be worried about me not loving you anymore?" he demanded, incredulous. Francis grimaced and glanced away, nervously twisting his daylight ring around his finger. Henrik reached forward to stop him, linking their fingers together.

"Well, the five years I've spent away from you wasn't pleasant, but I was also in a comatose state after about three months. You..." Francis hesitated, tongue coming to wet his lips. Henrik's eyes dropped to them before he could stop himself. He had to force himself to look away. "You were aware those five years. I guess I was afraid that you had moved on."

"Well, that's bloody stupid," Henrik said with a scoff. "I literally called you the love of my life not even ten minutes ago. Honestly, Francis."

"Why did you believe I didn't love you anymore?" Francis immediately challenged, raising his eyebrows. "That's even more ridiculous."

"I didn't say it wasn't ridiculous," Henrik muttered, cheeks tinting pink as he glanced away. There was a beat of silence, and then soft hands were cupping his cheeks, turning his head so gently that Henrik barely noticed until a pair of lips were being pressed against his own. He sighed softly and let his eyes flutter shut, leaning into the kiss and the warmth. He kept his eyes still closed when Francis pulled away, enjoying the soft swipe of his thumbs against his cheekbones.

"Now that we have that nonsense cleared up," Francis murmured, making Henrik open his eyes and crack a small smile. "There's things we need to talk about, darling." Henrik's small smile faded away. Francis's hands fell from his cheeks, so he used that opportunity to shift back and get comfortable on the bed, legs folded beneath him. Francis mirrored him, hands linked together on his lap. The affectionate nickname did nothing to soothe Henrik's nerves.

"Hope thinks that you're sad," Henrik spoke first, making Francis blink in surprise. "She also thinks I'm sad because you're sad and, frankly, I can't say that she's particularly wrong." Henrik paused, tilting his head. His voice lowered to a quiet whisper when he added, "Just because we love each other doesn't mean you aren't going to leave. I don't know how to say this delicately or how to ask, so I'm just going to. It's my fault five years was taken from you, so if you need time away from my family—away from me—I understand, but I need to know if you're going to come back. And before you try to tell me you're not going to leave, let me just add that I know you. I know you don't want to stay here. I just need to know if it's because of me." Francis averted his gaze then, making Henrik's heart seize painfully in his chest. The ache eased when he started speaking.

"Leaving you is the last thing I want to do," Francis murmured, fidgeting with his daylight ring again. "I don't blame you for what happened, Henrik. Marcel's actions are not your fault. You were just as much a victim to him as I was. That's not what's wrong here. There's many things on my mind right now, many things I can't stop thinking about, but you..." Francis let out a soft sigh. "You make my mind quiet. So no, Henrik, it's not because of you. Quite the opposite, actually. You make me want to stay, not leave."

"Then what is it?" Henrik whispered. Francis was quiet for a long time.

"You begged me not to go and I didn't listen," Francis said slowly. It wasn't an answer to Henrik's question, but he didn't interrupt. He had a feeling Francis needed to get this out. "I can't stop thinking about it. I can't help but wonder if things would have ended differently if I had just listened to you. I know logically it wouldn't have, but still." Francis shook his head. "I promised I would come back to you and I didn't."

"Francis, you were desiccated for five years, that wasn't your fault," Henrik whispered. He knew that Francis already knew that, but he had to say it anyway. "When I made you make me that promise, I was thinking of your death. You're alive. That's all I ever wanted." Francis nodded silently, not bothering to respond. Henrik cleared his throat. "Francis, what is it?"

"I suppose I feel guilty for wanting to leave," Francis admitted, voice even quieter than before. "I love you and I care about your family, no matter how much my gut tells me not to. No offense." Henrik cracked a smile at that. "Not to mention I've adored Hope since the moment I laid eyes on her. I know how much you want to stay with your family, but I just—I haven't seen or spoken to my own in five years, Henrik, and I feel so utterly selfish wanting to ask you to come with me." Henrik's breath caught in his throat.

He had been asked to leave with his various lovers many times before, but this was the first time he didn't have to think deeply about the answer.

"That choice is easy, lovely," Henrik whispered. "I spent the past five years in a horribly boring beige dreamland with my family. I've had quite enough of them for the time being, if I'm being completely honest. Hope is different, but I have years to get to know her, and right now what she needs is to spend time with her father, not me. Besides, you've gotten to know my family. Isn't it time I get to know yours?" A soft smile curved Francis's lips at that, but it went away when he frowned in concern.

"You don't mind leaving them?" he asked softly, making Henrik tilt his head again.

"I've left them plenty of times before," he pointed out. "This isn't any different. I imagine they're expecting it. I'm sure Kol and Rebekah are planning to leave as well. We only really reunite in times of crisis. The fact the most of us plan on leaving is, contrary to popular belief, a good thing. It means we're at peace." Henrik smiled. "They'll understand."

"Even Klaus?" Francis asked, arching an eyebrow. Henrik's smile faded.

"I'll handle Nik," he muttered. "You don't need to worry about him." Francis didn't look convinced, so Henrik smiled and leaned forward. "We've only kissed once in the past five years, and the one you just gave me was horribly chaste. Don't you think we should remedy that?"

Francis was pulling him in for a kiss a second later. Henrik smiled into his mouth even as he fell back against the bed.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Henrik found Klaus in the dining room, sitting at the large dinner table with papers covered in drawings spread out on the wood. Henrik watched him from the doorway for a moment, pressing a hand self-consciously against the dark bruise he knew was on the side of his neck. He didn't know if letting Klaus see it would help sway things in his favor, but he couldn't do anything about it now. Clearing his throat, Henrik stepped fully into the room and flicked his fingers toward the fireplace, fire roaring up immediately to light up the dark room. Klaus was so entranced with his daughter's drawings that he hadn't noticed the sun going down, hadn't noticed he was sitting in the dark. He might have been able to see fine with his enhanced eyes, but Henrik was the exact opposite, and he didn't want to squint just to see his brother's expression.

"Moping about how Hope is better than you ever were?" Henrik asked to break the ice, smiling as he picked up a drawing of a snake. It was in a circle, the mouth of the snake swallowing its own tale. It was a little morbid, but he couldn't say it wasn't creative. He set it back down as Klaus grinned.

"She's an art prodigy," he said proudly, not even bothering to defend himself. Henrik couldn't help smiling wider. He hadn't seen his brother so happy in a very long time. Klaus eyed Henrik thoughtfully as he pulled out a chair and sat down to his right and angled his body toward him, since Klaus was sitting at the head of the table. Klaus drummed his fingers against the wood. "You look rested and happy. Quite the opposite from this morning. You and Francis talked, I take it?" Henrik hummed and reached to cover his hickey self-consciously again, though it did nothing but bring Klaus's attention to it. Henrik spoke before Klaus's scowl could grow deeper.

"Yes. That's..." Henrik shifted nervously in his seat and cleared his throat. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about, Nik." Klaus frowned then, his scowl gone. Henrik took a deep breath and decided to simply say it. Dropping hints would do nothing but make Klaus annoyed. "He said I could tell you, so...He has a family, his sister and her girlfriend, who he considers family as well. I did a locator spell and found them in Paris. He bought a plane ticket and is packing his bags now, and...and I'm going with him, Nik." He tried to ignore the way Klaus's expression was darkening by the second. "I was hoping that we could actually separate on good terms for once. No yelling, no disowning, no throwing things. Just a mature conversation between brothers who have been estranged for far too long."

Klaus drummed his fingers against the table again.

"Shouldn't you be more concerned with Elijah?" Klaus asked, voice void of emotion.

"Elijah and I spent five years together. We've worked out our differences. There wasn't much else to do. You and I, though..." Henrik pressed his lips together for a moment, trying to think of a way to say what he needed to without potentially causing an argument. He let out a soft sigh. "We don't talk, Nik. You act like nothing ever happened and I act like I've forgotten all about it when I haven't. Why do you think we always end up arguing all the time? I'm tired of being angry with you." Klaus didn't respond for so long that Henrik was convinced he wasn't going to get what he wanted. He let out a disappointed sigh and started to get to his feet, only to stop when a hand wrapped around his wrist. One look at Klaus's face made him sit back down.

"I know I've made you choose in the past," Klaus said slowly, letting go of Henrik's wrist, "but I won't make you choose now. It's done more harm than good, hasn't it?" Henrik hummed. It was an understatement, but he was sure Klaus knew that. His brother shook his head. "Go with him. Bond with his family like he bonded with ours. You'll be welcome whenever you decide you miss us. Both of you." Henrik let out a rush of breath, suddenly feeling exhilarated in a way that was unfamiliar. He'd had Klaus's blessing before, but never one this clear, never one so blatantly without any loopholes or conditions. Never one that extended to someone Henrik cared about. It made him more emotional than he cared to admit.

"I know I've said there are things I can never forgive you for," Henrik said slowly, voice quiet. "And that's still true, but what I can forgive you for, I have." Klaus smiled then. He had probably been waiting years to hear those words. He stood from his chair as if to leave, so Henrik stood as well, watching as Klaus went to gather Hope's drawings.

"I suppose that's the best I can hope for," Klaus admitted, slowing his movements as he glanced at Henrik. He let out a sigh. "Be happy, brother. God knows you deserve it. Also know that I expect you to be here for all important holidays and birthdays. I won't take no for an answer. Hope seems to have taken quite a liking to you."

"Well, of course," Henrik said, rolling his eyes. "I'm clearly her favorite."

"Uncle Francis just said bye to me." Both Henrik and Klaus jumped at Hope's voice. Neither had heard her sneak into the room, but she was there now, in a nightgown with a small cup of cocoa in her hands. One glance at it made Henrik smile, knowing Francis had made it. He always put more whipped cream in it than necessary. "Does this mean you're leaving?" Henrik sighed and pulled away from Klaus, going to kneel in front of her.

"Yes," he said softly. "Francis has a family of his own he needs to get back to." Hope pouted.

"But what if I miss you?" she asked, eyes wide. Henrik smiled.

"I'm only a phone call away," he reassured. "Give me your necklace." Hope frowned, shoved the cocoa into his hands, then got to work pulling the pendant over her head. They traded, and Hope sipped at her cocoa as Henrik cupped the pendant and got to work pulling the leather bracelet Francis had given him off his wrist. He cupped both in his hands and brought them to his lips, whispering a spell over both pieces of jewelry until they were burning to the touch. He sniffed when he was done, hoping blood wouldn't start dripping from his nose again as he pulled his bracelet back on his wrist and placed the necklace back around Hope's neck. "When you really need me," he explained, "just grab onto that necklace and reach out to me. You'll know how. I'll feel it and I'll come to you. But it has to be because of an emergency, Hope, do you understand? You can't reach out to me just because you miss me, that's what a phone is for. If you miss me, call me, but if you need me..."

Hope nodded seriously, holding the pendant tight in her hand. Henrik smiled.

"Good," he murmured. "I love you, sweet girl, remember that." He suddenly leaned forward and lowered his voice into a whisper. "And if you want to get into a little mischief while I'm gone, I left a few pages from my grimoire in one of your art books." Hope's eyes widened in excitement while, behind him, Klaus let out a disapproving sound.

"Henrik—" he started.

"Oh, be quiet, Nik," Henrik said, shooting his brother a look over his shoulder as he climbed to his feet. "She's a Mikaelson witch. She can handle a few simple spells."

"Yeah," Hope said, tilting her head innocently as she smiled up at Klaus. "I'm a Mikaelson witch." Henrik laughed. Klaus shot him a dirty look.

"You're a bad influence."

"I'm a wonderful influence," Henrik argued. "You're just jealous you can't float feathers like we can." At that, Hope fell into a fit of giggles, some of the cocoa sloshing out of the mug and falling to the floor. When they subsided, she reached forward and tugged at the hem of Henrik's shirt to get his attention, though she already had it.

"You won't be gone for a long time again, right?" She reached up to him with her pinky finger raised. "Pinky promise?" Henrik smiled and linked her pinky with his.

"Pinky promise," he said. "Everyone knows you can't break pinky promises."

"You're right!" Hope said, turning to go, her worries over him leaving completely forgotten. As she ran out of the room, making more of a mess on the floor as she went, Henrik heard her yell, "Uncle Francis, you have to pinky promise! You can't break a pinky promise!" Henrik couldn't describe the feeling in his chest when, distantly from somewhere in the house, he heard Francis's bright and bubbling laughter in response to Hope's declaration.

"You're good with her," Klaus murmured once her yelling and Francis's laughter had stopped, which could only mean Hope had found him. "So is he. Don't break that promise, Henrik. She's too young to be hurt like that."

"I'd sooner die," Henrik declared, making Klaus hum in thought.

"I suppose we have that in common."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The song Francis and Henrik listened to is "All of My Life" by Park Won. It's absolutely gorgeous, 10/10 would recommend. And yes, Francis no longer has blonde hair, because it was dyed to begin with and dye doesn't last for five years. Maybe he'll keep his black hair, maybe he won't, idk.

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