｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆
𝔟𝔩𝔲𝔢𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔡
trois. — consummation!

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Anticipation clawed its way through Helena's veins on the eve of her wedding, hounding against her flesh like a caged wolf begging to be set free. The urge to flee was overwhelming as a sense of foreboding ensnared her senses, and clouded her young mind.

The fancy wine she had consumed a copious amount of at the celebrations did little to calm her scattered nerves as she rode in a carriage to her fate, she and the Count— her husband would be spending the night in his harbour side manor before boarding the ferry the next morning. He had insisted they honeymoon in France, told her of all the great things he wished to show her and for a moment she saw a spark of another man in him. Helena craved the excitement inside him, the passion that turned his smirk to a grin.

Yet the sick ache in her stomach would not release its grip on her, not unlike her husband's firm grip on her thigh — the touch scorching her through the layers of her wedding gown. The gentle word's of her mother ringing through her mind, she knew what was expected of her and yet she felt fearful, she was frightened of the pain but most of all she was frightened of what this would mean.

The final transition from girlhood to womanhood.

No longer would she feel the comforting embrace of her mother when saddened, instead her husband's steely arms and unsympathetic ear would be all she had. No longer would she be able to freely trapeze the woods with Tora, yet she was getting everything she had dreamt of wasn't she? Wealth, freedom to see the world, and a husband who had been nothing but kind to her.

( SO WHY DID HER HEART STILL ACHE? )

The manor was nothing short of ostentatious, and yet in her panicked state Helena did not take note of the details. Her husband carried her over the threshold and up to the master bedroom, her spindly fingers clutching onto his jacket like a lifeline when he set her down a few feet from the bed. Not willing to meet his eye, her gaze flickered around the chamber that could most likely house a family of five. The bed was large and imposing, supported on massive golden pillars, and hung with curtains that were a deep rouge. The only window was smothered by the velvet curtains, so the only light was provided by the roaring fire and candles that a maid must have lit prior to their arrival. Other than the bed the only other furniture was a tall bookcase that ran along the entirety of one wall, a large tub, an ample cushioned chair near the end of the bed, scarlet in colour with a black footstool before it, reminding Helena scarcely of a throne. A matching sofa rested before the fireplace and an easel sat in the corner of the room.

But the items that truly shocked her were the mirrors. Scattered around the room, and the bed were dozens of gold framed mirrors, her pale reflection staring back at her no matter where she turned. When he walked towards her she was greeted with the sight of a multitude of him approaching her from every which way. He kissed her shoulders as he met her eyes in one of the mirrors, waiting for her shoulders to untense before he began to disrobe her. First the necklace; and, next, the skirt made of such delicate fabrics she was frightened it would tear under his grip, the blouse, the corset. He disrobed her in such a way that sent a rush of scarlet to her cheeks, he was not slow nor rushed, merely deliberate and exploring of his new wife. Once she was bare as the day she was born Helena resisted the urge to lower her head in submission.

Helena Valerious had not been shy a day in her life, and so Helena Mikaelson would not be either.

Instead she met his gaze through one of the many mirrors as he stood behind her, the man grinning wolfishly at her defiance. She found the grin truly resembled that of a predator, with too much teeth and aggression but she did not back down. Instead she smiled back as though she was not the one in a position of complete vulnerability as she stood nude before the still fully clothed man. The softness of his clothes against her bare back was a strange and misleading opposite to the roughness of his hands; one slowly cupping her breast whilst the other grasped her neck — the feel not dissimilar to that of the choker — and turned her head to meet his lips in a bruising kiss.

Her bare feet squirmed against the cold stone floor before she was abruptly tossed onto the bed, her body practically melting into the soft mattress as her husband loosened his tie and undressed with a hunger alight in his eyes. The breath that she had regained in that moment was promptly stolen again when he crawled between her legs and resumed kissing her swollen lips, neck, chest, anywhere his sinful lips could reach. There was not a moment for her to even begin to think of where he had learnt to use his tongue and hands in the ways he was, there was only him.

Then there was the pain she had been promised, the stretch pulling a single pitiful tear from her eye as Klaus buried his face in her neck, his lips soothing the skin there for a moment. All at once her blood stained the sheets, soft cries of pain and ecstasy intermingled filling the air along with the Count's whispered words. Helena withered beneath her husband, the feelings too much and not enough all at once as pain bloomed and pleasure blossomed between her thighs and her neck.

Her only tether to the world in that moment was her husband, her soul seemed to want to float away and free itself from the confines of her mortal body. But his grip on her was too strong, bruises littering the expanse of her thighs and hips as he held her quivering body to him until she finally fell still and drifted into a blissful, exhausted slumber.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Helena awoke to the sight of herself.

Her sight remained blurred for several moments after she awoke, though when her vision cleared she found her own gaze blinking sleepily back at her from the mirror suspended above the bed. Her hair was strewn all over the pillow, while her naked body was on display as the bed sheets were tangled around her ankles and feet.

Helena couldn't quite believe the sight in the mirror above her, love bites and bruises littered her thighs, neck, chest and practically every inch of skin her husband could reach. And yet she could not look away from her eyes, she sensed a change in herself immediately. A maturity that struck her with a deep intensity.

"Won't you join me, my little bride?"

At the sound of her husband's command, Helena shot up from the bed into a sitting position only to find him lounging in the tub, his gaze fixed on her. Helena found that it took several attempts to even lift herself from the bed, her legs shaking an embarrassing amount as she hauled herself over and into the warm water.

She laid with her back against his bare chest, wincing slightly at the stinging between her thighs. Helena pushed her face into the crook of his neck and simply allowed her body to relax in the warm water as he rested a large hand on her abdomen. Briefly she wondered of their future, it was rumoured the Count was infertile due to him never conceiving an air with any of his prior wives. Yet the thought did not burden her as it perhaps should have, Helena did not have a maternal bone in her body, the sound of a screaming infant was enough to drive one to madness and Helena was not a woman with an abundance of patience.

Helena allowed her husband to lean her back further, her legs spread as far as the tub would allow as he ran a cloth along the bloodstains between her legs with a gentleness she did not think him capable of. The sight of the blood triggered a memory that flashed before her eyes for a split second before it hid beyond her consciousness once again, leaving her confused and weary for a few moment before her husband distracted her with an abundance of kisses that trailed along her shoulder, "Shouldn't we be preparing to go soon?"

Her husband whined not unlike a child as he nipped at her neck, "But I wish to stay here, and ravish my bride."

"Later," Helena leaned in as if to kiss him before abruptly pulling away and standing, water dripping from her naked body as she towered over him, "come, you promised to show me your painting in the Louvre."

When he went to sit up clearly intent on pulling her into his arms, she placed her foot on his chest and pushed him back. The man clearly shocked and aghast as he stared at the boldness of his new bride, a newly awakened confidence in her clearly ready to break out, "Dress. Now."

"I don't recall you being this bossy when I asked you to marry me, love."

"I don't recall you being so needy."

AUTHORS NOTE!
This is as close to smut as I'm ever writing in the foreseeable future so enjoy it. Idk even know what this is I'm so tired — sorry for how short it is but I just wanna sleep lmaoo.

And I wanna be clear this isn't like Damon and Caroline's relationship where she knows everything and he just compels her to be his puppet and not be afraid. That defeats the purpose since Klaus can compel anyone to be his puppet, any evidence of vamps and stuff he compels away but in a way that soft of messes with her and confuses her causes he's a sadistic prick as we all know. His motivations are something I'll explain more later though as he's Bluebeard in this story it's really basically just that so if you know you know. If you don't well...

Dudes just a rich prick with a God complex lmaoo.

Also I made an edit with all the wives that's in the graphics gallery but here's the casting too:

Melisa Pamuk —— Hela 'the muse'
Zoey Deutch —— Letha ;)) 'the prima ballerina'
Adelaide Kane —— Emmeline 'the dutchess'
Abigail Cowen —— Beatrice 'the opera singer'
Lily James —— Dolly 'the townie'

Remember to vote, comment and or share please lovelies if you enjoyed <333

Unedited
—summer