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Title: Hobby
Fandom: The Originals
Characters: Keelin, Freya Mikaelson
Category: Romance, Angst, Fluff, Family
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,527
Summary: Anon said: Freya shows Keelin her collection of Enemy Ashes (you KNOW she's grabbed dahlia's and her mom's).
Author’s Note: Set sometime post 4x13 "The Feast of All Sinners."
Warnings: None that I can think of.
“Freya!”
Keelin hadn't intended for her voice to come out so high pitched and squeaky as she called across the now well and truly empty Mikaelson compound for her girlfriend. But her nose, with werewolf sharpened senses honed to a fine edge by Freya’s gift of a moonlight ring, didn't lie. The contents of the box in front of her were disturbing to say the least.
“What's wrong?” Freya demanded as she flew out of her room on to the compound’s inner second story balcony. Keelin didn't miss the way her hands were clawed into the distinctive shapes that meant Freya was summoning magic at her sides. Freya had been ready and waiting for any attacks to come at them since the rest of the Mikaelsons, Hayley and Hope had fled the city. Keelin suspected Freya was almost eager for another threat to rear its ugly head, something she could sink her metaphorical teeth into and rip to shreds with her magic. Anything to erase the terrible taste of the futile desperation Freya had felt when her family was ripped apart all around her and there had been nothing she could do.
“Nothing,” Keelin gave her head a quick shake to reinforce her answer before Freya could really start to worry. “Not like that.” She hefted the box in her hands. “Why are there human remains in here?” She grimaced. “Very charred human remains.”
Freya’s reaction wasn't what Keelin expected at all. She laughed, almost sagging against the railing in relief before she sauntered down the stairs to where Keelin stood. Keelin shivered when Freya rested her hands over hers where she held the box. Freya’s touch lingered far longer than necessary and caressed the back of her hands, running up her wrists before they came back down to rest over Keelin’s hands.
“You asked once, if I had a hobby,” Freya drawled the words out, still stroking her thumbs back and forth across Keelin’s skin and forcing her to concentrate hard on what Freya was saying to retain it instead of losing herself in the sensation. From almost the first moment Freya had begun to relax around Keelin Freya had seemed almost obsessed with her hands. Touching them, performing some seriously unnecessary whispering of magic to the ring on Keelin’s hand, so close Keelin had felt the warmth of her breath like a phantom caress. It had sent a jolt of desire straight through Keelin, shocking her to her core and confirming - if she'd had any doubts - just how attracted she was to Freya Mikaelson. She had been such a goner, enchanted by the woman who had held her captive, even as Keelin pushed back against Freya for her own freedom.
Keelin swallowed and forced her thoughts back to the present. “And you fed me some bullshit line, so you didn't have to admit you have none,” Keelin teased back, her voice a rich, warm sing-song.
“Oh no,” Freya countered as she let her hands fall away from Keelin’s with one last lingering caress before she unfolded the corners of the box, opening it for Keelin’s inspection. “These are the ashes of my enemies.” She lifted first one jar, a dark stone container, sealed tight with wax around a small cork, and then another. “Lucien. Dahlia and my mother.”
“Freya,” Keelin’s voice broke, choked by the emotions that had welled up in her throat. It was one thing to collect the ashes of her enemies. It was a very Freya thing to do when she stopped and thought about it, but those names… Two of them, at least. It made Keelin’s heart ache. “Honey…”
“It's nothing,” Freya said and let the jars slip through her fingers and back down into the box Keelin held. “I told you I didn't have a mother.”
“It's not nothing. There's a difference between not having one and having one who, who…” Keelin realized abruptly she didn't know what Freya’s mother had done.
Freya’s lips tugged up into what might have been a smile but was instead full of bitterness. “Who sold me to my dear aunt Dahlia in exchange for more children, the children she actually wanted and never gave me another thought, leaving me to Dahlia’s tender loving care?”
“Yes,” Keelin acknowledged. “That.”
Freya shrugged and set the stone jar back down in the box, never meeting Keelin’s eyes as she folded the cardboard wings of the box over each until they were locked shut again. “It’s nothing you have to worry about. I keep them in case we need them. That’s all. There are,” Freya swallowed. “Spells and things that call for them. In case we…” She shook her head. “I need to go finish packing. They’re nothing to be concerned about though.”
“Hey,” Keelin called. She juggled the box in her arms, until she could free one up and caught Freya’s wrist. It took a moment, but her witch’s gaze flicked up to meet Keelin’s. “I don’t care about the ashes, but I’m always concerned about you, Freya Mikaelson.”
The tiny smile that twitched up one corner of Freya’s mouth and the relief in her eyes was enough to let Keelin relax. This time when Freya stepped back Keelin let her arm slip through her fingers, but didn’t let go until the tip of Freya’s fingers had slid past her own. Keelin would let it go for now, but later… Later was another matter.
*** *** ***
“Keelin?” Freya’s voice wasn’t sharp and urgent, or frightened and anxious when she called out for Keelin, but it was louder than usual. A satisfied smile curled over Keelin’s lips as she crossed her arms over her chest and strode into the kitchen. The apartment was more than Keelin would have been able to afford alone on her clinic salary, but Freya and the ancient family wealth had been able to manage it easily. The lease was in both of their names - Freya had insisted when they moved out of the Mikaelson compound that it would be their place. The aftermath of the Mikaelson’s fleeing New Orleans for the four corners of the Earth had been difficult for Freya, difficult enough that Keelin had agreed when Freya had suggested it. They weren’t done discussing who would pay for what though - even if Freya didn’t know it yet.
That was a discussion for another day, however. Tonight was all about Freya and the way her eyes were shining right now in the warm light of the kitchen. There was an actual formal dining room off to the side, but it had seemed intimidating when Keelin had been debating where she wanted to set things up, so the small table at the kitchen nook it was.
“What’s all this?” Freya asked, with a sweep of her arm around the kitchen at the candles that dotted every free surface and the finely laid meal spread out across the table on china dishes with immaculate silver place settings and cloth napkins.
Keelin shrugged. “Dinner?” She took a step forward and grasped Freya’s elbows. “Do you remember the morning after we first kissed?”
Freya flushed and ducked her head. “Of course. How could I forget? I made you breakfast and we had to leave before we could eat it.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Keelin agreed. She slipped forward until her hands were at Freya’s waist and swayed them both gently from side to side. “But no one had ever done anything like that for me before, not after just one kiss.”
That drew Freya’s gaze back up, the strength of adoration in her eyes hitting Keelin in the gut like a solid object. “You’re worth it.” She snorted. “Especially for putting up with me.”
“Hey,” Keelin said, cupping Freya’s jaw in one hand and running her thumb across the worry line that had formed by the corner of Freya’s mouth when she had looked away. “None of that. That’s why I fixed this dinner. Because you deserve it. I don’t know what was wrong with your mom, why she couldn’t see how amazing you are. But guess what? I can. I see it all the time, Freya. In the way you fight so hard for your family and how you always get back up, even when it feels impossible. I see you, Freya.” She couldn’t resist any longer and nipped at Freya’s bottom lip in a brief, darting kiss. “I see you and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Freya’s eyes were watery when she took the final step closer, pressing their bodies against each other, and wrapped her arms around Keelin’s waist. “Promise?” She asked, her hands clutching tightly at the seam of Keelin’s jeans. She let her head fall to rest on Keelin’s shoulders. “I don’t think I could have done this without you, Keelin. Watched them all leave me and still keep standing. You don’t know-”
“I do,” Keelin said, cutting Freya off before she had to finish that thought. “I lost my family too and you won’t have to go through it alone. Not ever again.” She pressed her lips against the side of Freya’s cheek, the only part she could reach in their current position. “Promise.”
Fandom: The Originals
Characters: Keelin, Freya Mikaelson
Category: Romance, Angst, Fluff, Family
Rating: PG-13
Word count: 1,527
Summary: Anon said: Freya shows Keelin her collection of Enemy Ashes (you KNOW she's grabbed dahlia's and her mom's).
Author’s Note: Set sometime post 4x13 "The Feast of All Sinners."
Warnings: None that I can think of.
“Freya!”
Keelin hadn't intended for her voice to come out so high pitched and squeaky as she called across the now well and truly empty Mikaelson compound for her girlfriend. But her nose, with werewolf sharpened senses honed to a fine edge by Freya’s gift of a moonlight ring, didn't lie. The contents of the box in front of her were disturbing to say the least.
“What's wrong?” Freya demanded as she flew out of her room on to the compound’s inner second story balcony. Keelin didn't miss the way her hands were clawed into the distinctive shapes that meant Freya was summoning magic at her sides. Freya had been ready and waiting for any attacks to come at them since the rest of the Mikaelsons, Hayley and Hope had fled the city. Keelin suspected Freya was almost eager for another threat to rear its ugly head, something she could sink her metaphorical teeth into and rip to shreds with her magic. Anything to erase the terrible taste of the futile desperation Freya had felt when her family was ripped apart all around her and there had been nothing she could do.
“Nothing,” Keelin gave her head a quick shake to reinforce her answer before Freya could really start to worry. “Not like that.” She hefted the box in her hands. “Why are there human remains in here?” She grimaced. “Very charred human remains.”
Freya’s reaction wasn't what Keelin expected at all. She laughed, almost sagging against the railing in relief before she sauntered down the stairs to where Keelin stood. Keelin shivered when Freya rested her hands over hers where she held the box. Freya’s touch lingered far longer than necessary and caressed the back of her hands, running up her wrists before they came back down to rest over Keelin’s hands.
“You asked once, if I had a hobby,” Freya drawled the words out, still stroking her thumbs back and forth across Keelin’s skin and forcing her to concentrate hard on what Freya was saying to retain it instead of losing herself in the sensation. From almost the first moment Freya had begun to relax around Keelin Freya had seemed almost obsessed with her hands. Touching them, performing some seriously unnecessary whispering of magic to the ring on Keelin’s hand, so close Keelin had felt the warmth of her breath like a phantom caress. It had sent a jolt of desire straight through Keelin, shocking her to her core and confirming - if she'd had any doubts - just how attracted she was to Freya Mikaelson. She had been such a goner, enchanted by the woman who had held her captive, even as Keelin pushed back against Freya for her own freedom.
Keelin swallowed and forced her thoughts back to the present. “And you fed me some bullshit line, so you didn't have to admit you have none,” Keelin teased back, her voice a rich, warm sing-song.
“Oh no,” Freya countered as she let her hands fall away from Keelin’s with one last lingering caress before she unfolded the corners of the box, opening it for Keelin’s inspection. “These are the ashes of my enemies.” She lifted first one jar, a dark stone container, sealed tight with wax around a small cork, and then another. “Lucien. Dahlia and my mother.”
“Freya,” Keelin’s voice broke, choked by the emotions that had welled up in her throat. It was one thing to collect the ashes of her enemies. It was a very Freya thing to do when she stopped and thought about it, but those names… Two of them, at least. It made Keelin’s heart ache. “Honey…”
“It's nothing,” Freya said and let the jars slip through her fingers and back down into the box Keelin held. “I told you I didn't have a mother.”
“It's not nothing. There's a difference between not having one and having one who, who…” Keelin realized abruptly she didn't know what Freya’s mother had done.
Freya’s lips tugged up into what might have been a smile but was instead full of bitterness. “Who sold me to my dear aunt Dahlia in exchange for more children, the children she actually wanted and never gave me another thought, leaving me to Dahlia’s tender loving care?”
“Yes,” Keelin acknowledged. “That.”
Freya shrugged and set the stone jar back down in the box, never meeting Keelin’s eyes as she folded the cardboard wings of the box over each until they were locked shut again. “It’s nothing you have to worry about. I keep them in case we need them. That’s all. There are,” Freya swallowed. “Spells and things that call for them. In case we…” She shook her head. “I need to go finish packing. They’re nothing to be concerned about though.”
“Hey,” Keelin called. She juggled the box in her arms, until she could free one up and caught Freya’s wrist. It took a moment, but her witch’s gaze flicked up to meet Keelin’s. “I don’t care about the ashes, but I’m always concerned about you, Freya Mikaelson.”
The tiny smile that twitched up one corner of Freya’s mouth and the relief in her eyes was enough to let Keelin relax. This time when Freya stepped back Keelin let her arm slip through her fingers, but didn’t let go until the tip of Freya’s fingers had slid past her own. Keelin would let it go for now, but later… Later was another matter.
*** *** ***
“Keelin?” Freya’s voice wasn’t sharp and urgent, or frightened and anxious when she called out for Keelin, but it was louder than usual. A satisfied smile curled over Keelin’s lips as she crossed her arms over her chest and strode into the kitchen. The apartment was more than Keelin would have been able to afford alone on her clinic salary, but Freya and the ancient family wealth had been able to manage it easily. The lease was in both of their names - Freya had insisted when they moved out of the Mikaelson compound that it would be their place. The aftermath of the Mikaelson’s fleeing New Orleans for the four corners of the Earth had been difficult for Freya, difficult enough that Keelin had agreed when Freya had suggested it. They weren’t done discussing who would pay for what though - even if Freya didn’t know it yet.
That was a discussion for another day, however. Tonight was all about Freya and the way her eyes were shining right now in the warm light of the kitchen. There was an actual formal dining room off to the side, but it had seemed intimidating when Keelin had been debating where she wanted to set things up, so the small table at the kitchen nook it was.
“What’s all this?” Freya asked, with a sweep of her arm around the kitchen at the candles that dotted every free surface and the finely laid meal spread out across the table on china dishes with immaculate silver place settings and cloth napkins.
Keelin shrugged. “Dinner?” She took a step forward and grasped Freya’s elbows. “Do you remember the morning after we first kissed?”
Freya flushed and ducked her head. “Of course. How could I forget? I made you breakfast and we had to leave before we could eat it.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Keelin agreed. She slipped forward until her hands were at Freya’s waist and swayed them both gently from side to side. “But no one had ever done anything like that for me before, not after just one kiss.”
That drew Freya’s gaze back up, the strength of adoration in her eyes hitting Keelin in the gut like a solid object. “You’re worth it.” She snorted. “Especially for putting up with me.”
“Hey,” Keelin said, cupping Freya’s jaw in one hand and running her thumb across the worry line that had formed by the corner of Freya’s mouth when she had looked away. “None of that. That’s why I fixed this dinner. Because you deserve it. I don’t know what was wrong with your mom, why she couldn’t see how amazing you are. But guess what? I can. I see it all the time, Freya. In the way you fight so hard for your family and how you always get back up, even when it feels impossible. I see you, Freya.” She couldn’t resist any longer and nipped at Freya’s bottom lip in a brief, darting kiss. “I see you and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Freya’s eyes were watery when she took the final step closer, pressing their bodies against each other, and wrapped her arms around Keelin’s waist. “Promise?” She asked, her hands clutching tightly at the seam of Keelin’s jeans. She let her head fall to rest on Keelin’s shoulders. “I don’t think I could have done this without you, Keelin. Watched them all leave me and still keep standing. You don’t know-”
“I do,” Keelin said, cutting Freya off before she had to finish that thought. “I lost my family too and you won’t have to go through it alone. Not ever again.” She pressed her lips against the side of Freya’s cheek, the only part she could reach in their current position. “Promise.”
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