Sometimes, only sometimes, Rebekah would look at the doppleganger and wonder about what Niklaus saw. Did he look at her lips, and picture his long lost Tatia? His his eyes ever linger on her breasts-slightly inadequate really- and imagine what it would be like to be naked with her? Did he ever close his eyes at night, and envision being with her?
Rebekah was jealous by nature. Angry, stubborn... all of the hotter vices she carried inside her heart. Yet, she had never been jealous of Tatia. That dark haired beauty from their old village had torn her brothers apart. She had caused a schism between Rebekah's strongest allies. For that, Rebekah wouldn't and couldn't feel jealous. Her brothers loved each other too much to ever let anything as trivial as a wet gash come between them. Tatia had created her own doom, in failing to love either of them properly. Rebekah would not make the same mistake.
She had seen Tatia toy with the brothers, and now she was watching Elena make the same mistake. Choose one, little girl, she thought. Choose one and promise him forever, that is the only way to keep a man for all eternity. Give him everything.
Rebekah had chosen Niklaus, as if there was a choice. She had chosen him and entwined his fingers in her own, just as she would later entwine their bodies. Tightly and eternal, dead and damned. The bond had been created when she had sworn away her forever to the blonde haired monster that was her brother, but like any oath it hadn't been truly formed until blood had been spilled.
He had come to her one night while Elijah hunted in the village. He had come to her with no hesitation, nothing held back. Niklaus had always been like that, Rebekah reflected, brash and headstrong and completely willing to make a bold move, consequences be damned. That behaviour had gotten him whippings growing up, slashes sliced into the weak flesh of a human boy. She used to clean him after, so seeing Niklaus naked-or near to- had never startled her.
So when he came to her, with his shirt removed and his leather pants halfway unlaced already, Rebekah didn't even draw an extra breath. His hands lifted her lace sleeping gown gently, carefully, and achingly slow. His fingers slid inside her with the same torturous pace, as he stared into her eyes. Blue and blue and asking a question. No words were needed between them, but she said it anyway.
"Always" she whispered, laying herself back on to the bed. He was silent as he kissed his way along her body. Her breasts, her stomach, the inside of her thigh, no part of her was left lonely that night. Their bodies fit perfectly, as she knew they would. And afterwards, as he came inside of her, Rebekah could swear she heard him whisper "forever" into the soft curve of her neck.
Now she wasn't so sure if he had ever returned the promise. Perhaps he had taken her, the blood on her thigh and the sweat from her skin and the moans from her mouth, and given nothing in return.
That was like him too, she thought. You chose him, little girl, now you have to give him everything. That's the way to keep a man. Just never expect him to give you anything back.