A King is Useless

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Klaus had always admired the game of chess, and there was, of course, a specific reason for his admiration. He enjoyed the the tactics in the game---the way the two colors clashed in an array of havoc had a certain charm that pleased Klaus a bit too much. He liked how one side won, while the other side fell piece by piece. He also enjoyed the sight of each side loosing their pieces one by one because of the idiocy of the players. However, he did not mainly admire chess for its destruction, but for the expert player who taught him how to play. Klaus was taught the game of chess by the best of the best, and that was Angel.

Angel had a gift. She was unbeatable at chess, and the world was her chess bored. She played her pawns with a cool indifference, and her eyes remained lazy as her pawns mutilated all the ones on the opposing side. Of course, Angel never played for the enjoyment, like Klaus did. She played because war was sometimes necessary in her mind. Battles were a part of life, and if she was forced to fight, she would.

Klaus fought because he enjoyed it. He enjoyed the feeling of power and control whenever he won, and that was what made him dangerous. That was what made him an equal with Angel on the chessboard.

Angel and Klaus were competitors, yet they were also each other's equals. Their qualities clashed in such a harsh way that they were a completed set together.

Angel was the queen, and as everyone knows, the king is worthless without his queen. But without the king, the came is over. So the destruction of one, equaled the destruction of the other.

Angel knew this; in fact, that was what she based her whole scheme around.

The blonde girl stared at her venenum with weak eyes, and her trembling hands traced along the faded edges of her book. The powerful words were all worn out, while each letter crudely smeared with age. The Petrova was tired, and her spells she had been casting for the past several hours had taken its toll on her. Sleep tugged hastily at her mind, but she brushed off its prying fingers and focused on the task at hand.

As she stood up, her knees buckled, but she refused to allow herself to fall. This was her time. This was her chance, and she knew that, so as she walked past the lit fireplace, she tossed her book into the flames and watched coldly as her past, history, and knowledge burned into blackened ashes. She watched as they erased themselves and ceased to exist.

The walk to the Mikaelson mansion was long and tiring. The ache in her muscles had skyrocketed to unbelievable torture, while the sharp pains in her head increased their timing. But when her fist bounced off the heavy door, her pains seemed to dull as determination numbed her senses.

Her dark eyes met the gleaming blue of her other half, and her lips turned down into a frown. He tilted his head in curiosity before opening his door wider as an invite for her to enter, but she shook her head and held out her hand.

He smirk and accepted the invitation, following her to their spot in the village where the lake once rested. The pair sat in silence, her leaning against his chest. She had brought a flask of bourbon that they passed back and forth. Of course, her sips were faked, and he never took notice because sadly he still trusted her.

Angel was aware of their connectivity. She knew they were a set--equals. But his ego was too big to realize this. Klaus never viewed her as his parallel.

The metal she held in her pocket felt evil against her skin, but she ignored the taunting touch and focused on the blond man. As the last drop of the strong liquid hit his throat, a strange look settled on his face. The two beings each sent a look to the other. One was saddened--filled with a cold, guilty glaze. The other was smeared with betrayal and panic.

The blonde girl frowned as she witnessed the golden hue from the hybrid's aura fade into a dying gray. His immortality faded bit by bit, and the girl knew what had to be done.

"Niklaus," she whispered, while tears filled her dark eyes, "I'm sorry. But you attempted to harm my family. You became too greedy."

The man in question released a sharp gasp. His lungs screamed out for air as the cells in his body started to rot away along with his inhuman strength.  He could feel her magic probing the potion to work faster.

The girl smiled sadly before setting a hand on his cheek and placing a gentle kiss on his forehead. "We both knew what would happen," she murmured in his ear, as more tears leaked from her eyes. "We both know it's family above all. Always and forever, yes?"

And with that, she shoved the blade into his heart and closed her eyes as she felt him slump lifelessly against her body. She was tortured. So painfully tortured that her mind struggled to focus on reality and fiction. She had just killed her friend. Her old comrade. One of the last reminders of her second life. But she had to, and he would do the same. Klaus would of killed Angel if their situations were reversed, and both of them were fully aware of that. Klaus knew why she did what she did. It was out of protection, not cruelty. Not malice. Not hatred. But protection.

The girl raised herself from the ground and glanced around. Blood stained her hands and clothing, while salty liquid drenched her tangled strands of red tinted curls. 

This was tragic, yes. But unavoidable. Death was inevitable. No matter what species you were, the reaper would eventually catch up to you. Death was only escapable for so long. After all, a rose can not withstand a thousand winters without fading.

Angel's hand ran along her arms, and a grimace crept along her features when her phone rang.

A wary sigh breathed from her lips, as Damon's number flashed across the screen.

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